“….we were equally incapable of imagining the reality of life without the other. This will not be a story in which the death of the husband or wife becomes what amounts to the credit sequence for a new life, a catalyst for the discovery that (a point typically introduced in such accounts by the precocious child of the bereaved) “you can love more than one person.” Of course you can, but marriage is something different. Marriage is memory, marriage is time. ‘She didn’t know the songs,’ I recall being told that a friend of a friend had said after an attempt to repeat the experience.” ~ Joan Didion

I can’t even begin to try to empathize with this. But that’s okay: a lot of this book, for me, functioned as a preparatory guide to understanding the nuts and bolts of grief so that, maybe, way off in the distance when it happens to me, I can have some way of even attempting to navigate or cope with or reckon with it. Among my favorite passages where those addressing  the composure with which it is expected to be met in this here modern Western world.

I wonder if Joan Didion ever saw Tokyo Story….

Well, anyway, I’m onto some Henry James next! Peace out, folks!


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