…she liked being reminded of butterflies. She remembered being six or seven and crying over the fates of the butterflies in the yard after learning that they lived for only a few days. Her mother had comforted her and told her not to be sad for the butterflies, that just because their lives were short didn’t mean they were tragic. Watching them flying in the warm sun among the daisies in their garden, her mother had said to her, See, they have a beautiful life. Alice liked remembering that.
-Still Alice, Lisa Genova (A novel about a woman diagnosed with Alzheimer’s at the age of 50)
I spent ALL of last night reading this amazing bit of work…I was touched, I cried…no I wept from the pit of my soul…there is nothing so heartbreaking as losing the very thing that we identify with “who we are”…losing our “self”…please pick up and read this short novel if you have the opportunity, you will NOT be disapointed in fact you will be effected…forever. xxx c