You'll come to my grave? To tell me your problems?" My problems? "Yes. ' And you'll give me … - Mitch Albom

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Music was such a love of mine. It was my way of exploring life, my internal world. To be honest, I don't really know why or why not. It's just seems life without it would be death.

Mitch Albom

You'll come to my grave? To tell me your problems?" My problems? "Yes. ' And you'll give me answers? "I'll give you what I can. Don't I always?" I picture his grave, on the hill, overlooking the pond, some little nine foot piece of earth where they will place him, cover him with dirt, put a stone on top. Maybe in a few weeks? Maybe in a few days? I see myself sitting there alone, arms across my knees, staring into space. It won't be the same, I say, not being able to hear you talk. "Ah, talk. . . " He closes his eyes and smiles. "Tell you what. After I'm dead, you talk. And I'll listen.

Cover, Eye, Feet, Piece, Space, Talk

Same Author Quotes

When someone is in your heart, they're never truly gone. They can come back to you, even at unlikely times.

Come, Gone, Heart, Love, Times

We need to forgive ourselves. For all the things we didn't do. All the things we should have done. You can't get stuck on the regrets of what should have happened.

Regret, Should Have, Forgiving, Forgive, Regrets, Happened

Have you found someone to share your heart with? Are you giving to your community? Are you at peace with yourself? Are you trying to be as human as you can be?

Heart, Found Someone, Giving, Found, Share

Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away. The moments that used to define them - a mother's approval, a father's nod - are covered by moments of their own accomplishments. It is not until much later, as the skin sags and the heart weakens, that children understand; their stories, and all their accomplishments, sit atop the stories of their mothers and fathers, stones upon stones, beneath the waters of their lives.

Letting Go, Mother, Children, Understand, Waters, Parents

Lost love is still love. 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.

Love, Romantic, Memories, Different, Dance, Floor