I could simply kill you now, get it over with, who would know the difference? I could easily kick you in, stove you under, for all those times, mean on gin, you rammed words into my belly. (p. 52)
alcoholism
barbara-blatner
cancer
colon-cancer
conflict
daughters
death
death-and-daughters
death-and-dying
death-and-love
death-and-sickness
death-and-son
death-of-a-loved-one
dying
dying-at-home
grief
grieving
grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother
hate
healing
letting-go
life
love
love-and-hate
memoir
memoirs
mother
mountains
new-york
new-york-quarterly
poem
poems
poetry
son
soul-searching
verse
verse-memoir
verses