I don’t know how,” I confessed, and I pulled my hand away so I wouldn’t hurt her in my frustration.She grabbed my hand and brought it back, this time pressing it to her heart.“I’m telling you how. You hold onto me. You trust me. You use me. You lean on me. You rely on me. You let me shelter you. You let me love you. All of you. Cancer. Fear. Sickness. Health. Better. Worse. All of you. And you’ll have all of me.
Amy Harmon, The Song of David
cancer, david-taggert