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Quote by Marie Mutsuki Mockett

“Endo told me that when he first read this story, he thought that it was about regret, and how people leave many things undone and unsaid when they die, and that the burden of such grief -- for the living and the dead -- is quite possibly the greatest torture any person will ever undergo. But then, as we discussed the story, we decided that it was really about how the man had let go and come to accept that the wife was gone, though the process had made him ill for a while.”

Quote by Marie Mutsuki Mockett

Work

Where the Dead Pause, and the Japanese Say Goodbye: A Journey

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Marie Mutsuki Mockett

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“Lost love is still love, Eddie. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it. 'Life has to end,' she said. 'Love doesn't.”

“A sudden, unanticipated death has a way of jolting us to our senses. Life as you know it will never be the same. It can be reinvented, reshaped into something different- but its never the same.”

“I think Kwan intended to show me the world is not a place but the vastness of the soul. And the soul is nothing more than love, limitless, endless, all that moves us toward knowing what is true. I once thought love was supposed to be nothing but bliss. I now know it is also worry and grief, hope and trust. And believing in ghosts - that's believing that love never dies. If people we love die, then they are lost only to our ordinary senses. If we remember, we can find them anytime with our hundred secret senses.”

“when you died, the spark of your life flew into me when I watched your breath stop, and the spark did its last energy frizz inside of me and I didn't tell anyone but half of the lights of myself went off as well. Almost every door in me closed too. Most of the space, where you used to tread, to rest, to read, to sleep, most of that space closed up for good. I became a house with only the porch light on.”

“...] and there, retiring into a corner, called up before his mind’s eye a vast amphitheatre of faces over which a dusky curtain had hung for many years. [...] There were the faces of friends, and foes, and of many that had been almost strangers peering intrusively from the crowd; there were the faces of young and blooming girls that were now old women; there were faces that the grave had changed and closed upon, but which the mind, superior to its power, still dressed in their old freshness and beauty, calling back the lustre of the eyes, the brightness of the smile, the beaming of the soul through its mask of clay, and whispering of beauty beyond the tomb, changed but to be heightened, and taken from earth only to be set up as a light, to shed a soft and gentle glow upon the path to Heaven.”