On My Mind Monday

There were times Ruma felt closer to her mother in death than she had in life, an intimacy born simply of thinking of her so often, of missing her. But she knew that this was an illusion, a mirage, and that the distance between them was now infinite, unyielding.

and in my heart, a little heavy...

But death, too, had the power to awe, she knew this now - that a human being could be alive for years and years, thinking and breathing and eating, full of a million worries and feelings and thoughts, taking up space in the world, and then, in an instant, become absent, invisible.

Thanks to Jhumpa Lahiri's collection of short stories. I read Unaccustomed Earth for lunch today.