What In Life Can Love

Once Heaven Is Done With Grandma, We'd Like Her Back, Thanks.

I Was A Workaholic. I Never Stopped. I Lived In Fifth Gear. I Bought Cars. I Invested In Stocks. I Made More Money Than I Had Ever Imagined.

I Hope You Never Hear Those Words. Your Mom. She Died. They Are Different Than Other Words. They Are Too Big To Fit In Your Ears. They Belong To Some Strange, Heavy, Powerful Language That Pounds Away At The Side Of Your Head, A Wrecking Ball Coming At You Again And Again, Until Finally, The Words Crack A Hole Large Enough To Fit Inside Your Brain. And In So Doing, They Split You Apart.

You Should Be Convinced Of The Authenticity Of What You Have, But You Must Also Be Humble Enough To Say That We Don't Know Everything. And Since We Don't Know Everything, We Must Accept That Another Person May Believe Something Else.

Holding Anger Is A Poison. It Eats You From The Inside. We Think That Hating Is A Weapon That Attacks The Person Who Harmed Us. But Hatred Is A Curved Blade. And The Harm We Do, We Do To Ourselves. Forgive, Edward. Forgive...no One Is Born With Anger. And When We Die, The Soul Is Freed Of It. But Now, Here, In Order To Move On, You Must Understand Why You Felt What You Did, And Why You No Longer Need To Feel It.' She Touched His Hand. 'you Need To Forgive Your Father.' ~pgs 141-142