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Quote by Steve Maraboli

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Life, the Truth, and Being Free

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Steve Maraboli

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“But in that moment, they already saw him as a lucid vision from the nostalgic past like when a deceased loved one visits you in a dream and you wrap them up in your arms and refuse to let go until you wake up tightly clutching your pillow and crying into it, and still you refuse to let go.”

“But his body, so cold, so unrelentingly unmoving was beginning to belong back to Earth, a block of perfect marble into which, even now, I tried to press my own life, exhaling, exhaling, exhaling. It's fruitless, you know it's fruitless, but you do it anyway, entreating your dead son to return to this perfectly usable thing, this beautiful, still body, so umblemished, so strong, so midstride.”

“She knew loss too well, knew that your dear ones never left, that they stayed with you, spoke to you, attempted to console you, but that these ghosts had no arms to hold you, that no one else could hear their jokes. That their love was not enough. And that as more and more of these familiars passed away, the world around you became less and less interesting, less and less real.”

“Put another way: I don't know what's going to happen on Election Day, other than the fact that the election won't be the only thing I'm thinking about- as November 5, 2024, also marks the ten-year anniversary of the death of my mother: a milestone so striking, it seems impossible to me even as I write it. And guess what? I won't be the only person in this country with something else on my mind that day, either.”