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Quote by Paul Dermée

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The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology

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Paul Dermée

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“People handle things differently, and everybody grieves differently, okay? No, I never considered taking my life, but think about it. What did I do? I did the very same thing you almost did. Maybe not literally but I made the decision to stop living. I went through the motions of waking and working and continuing with my life, but I wasn’t living. I didn’t even realize it until you came along. This is living.” He kissed her softly because he’d just had a huge revelation. “What I was doing before you . . . Baby, I may as well have been dead. My life now with you compared to what it was then . . . I was dead.”

“I had fought for this moment. I had fought for my life, what health I had, the ability to live my life, and the ability to love. And he was worth every moment I had fought so hard for. I never could have imagined what I was truly fighting so desperately for. But there he sat.”

“What were you going to make for Christmas dinner?” one of my older children asked in a very reasonable tone. I cleared my throat, but couldn’t speak. There was no real explanation for my behavior. I’d been so intent on getting through this first Christmas without David. I’d found new rituals to replace the old, wrapped gifts, and even made cutout sugar cookies. I’d modified Christmas in order to endure it. What I hadn’t done was plan on or prepare a Christmas meal. Everyone was looking at me expectantly by this point, including my sweet, hungry grandchildren. “I forgot all about Christmas dinner,” I finally admitted. No one batted an eye.”