“My aunt haunts me—her ghost drawn to me because now, after fifty years of neglect, I alone devote pages of paper to her, though not origamied into houses and clothes.”

                                —Maxine Hong Kingston, The Woman Warrior

There comes a moment in every woman’s life when she yearns to be loved for who she really is. On that day, at that moment, she will no longer be able to take part in false friendships or unhappy, unfulfilling relationships. She will only want truth. 

Sometimes loss is endless. I learned about the long span of death when my mentor died some years ago. When people would ask me how he was doing I would say, “He’s dying from cancer.”

But months later, I was still saying the same. It was then that I better understood that loss is a lifelong process. Sometimes loss is something that lasts for years, decades. Just when loss has depleted the pit of the soul, it continues.