I couldn't have foreseen all the good things that have followed my mother's death. The renewed energy the surprising sweetness of grief. The tenderness I feel for strangers on walkers. The deeper love I have for my siblings and friends. The desire to play the mandolin. The gift of a visitation.

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For me titles are either a natural two-second experience or stressful enough to give you an ulcer. If they don't pop out perfect on the first try they can be really hard to repair. Or worse if the author thinks they pop out perfect but the publishing house does not agree it's difficult to shift gears. And then? Then you go insane.