In the English language there are orphans and widows, but there is no word for the parents who lose a child.

When you're a parent you find yourself looking at the unknown that is your child, trying to find a piece of yourself inside her, because sometimes that is what it takes to claim.

Being a parent wasn't just about bearing a child. It was about bearing witness to its life.

Words, he decided, were inadequate at best, impossible at worst. They meant too many things. Or they meant nothing at all.

For in spite of language, in spite of intelligence and intuition and sympathy, one can never really communicate anything to anybody.

How could you go about choosing something that would hold the half of your heart you had to bury?