It feels like all these beautiful pieces of life are flying around me and I’m trying to catch them. When my granddaughter falls asleep in my lap, I try to catch the feeling of her breathing against me. And when I make my son laugh, I try to catch the sound of him laughing. How it rolls up from his chest. But the pieces are moving faster now, and I can’t catch them all. I can feel them slipping through my fingertips. And soon where there used to be my granddaughter breathing and my son laughing, there will be… nothing. I know it feels like you have all the time in the world. But you don’t. So, stop playing it so cool. Catch the moments of your life. Catch them while you’re young and quick. Because sooner than you know it, you’ll be old. And slow. And there’ll be no more of them to catch. And when a nice boy who adores you offers you pie, say thank you.[to Olivia, about dying]
Yeah, but people who really listen, they hear the bass.[Beth Pearson: Everybody remembers the trumpet.]
You deserve it. You deserve the beautiful life you’ve made. You deserve everything, Randall. My beautiful boy. My son. I haven’t had a happy life. Bad breaks. Bad choices. A life of almosts and could-haves. Some would call it sad, but I don’t. ‘Cause the two best things in my life were the person in the very beginning and the person at the very end. That’s a pretty good thing to be able to say, I think.
Roll all your windows down, Randall. Crank up the music. Grow out that ‘fro. Let someone else make your bed.
If you’re out on the street at 3:30 in the morning, at some point, you realize you made a very wrong turn.
Community. It’s a strange word on its own. The word is not as warm as family, but, some people, people like myself, we don’t have family. But that’s okay, because we have each other. We have this place and that’s not nothing. That’s not nothing at all.
Told you I’d send you a postcard. Goodbye, my dearest Beth. The daughter I never had. Love, William.