Mitch Albom
Mitch Albom
Mitchell David "Mitch" Albomis an American best-selling author, journalist, screenwriter, dramatist, radio and television broadcaster, and musician. His books have sold over 35 million copies worldwide. Having achieved national recognition for sports writing in the earlier part of his career, he is perhaps best known for the inspirational stories and themes that weave through his books, plays, and films...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth23 May 1958
CityPassaic, NJ
CountryUnited States of America
I hope you never hear those words. Your mom. She died. They are different than other words. They are too big to fit in your ears. They belong to some strange, heavy, powerful language that pounds away at the side of your head, a wrecking ball coming at you again and again, until finally, the words crack a hole large enough to fit inside your brain. And in so doing, they split you apart.
There's a story behind everything..but behind all your stories is always your mother's story..because hers is where yours begins.
A little girl came home from school with a drawing she'd made in class.She danced into the kitchen ,where her mother was preparing dinner. "Mom,guess what ?" she squealed waving the drawing . her mother never looked up. "what"? she said ,tending to the pots. "guess what?" the child repeated ,waving the drawings. "what?" the mother said , tending to the plates. "Mom, you're not listening" "sweetie,yes I am" "Mom" the child said "you're not listening with your EYES
You count the hours you could have spent with your mother. It's a lifetime in itself.
He almost told her everything right then, that very moment. But you grab a moment, or you let it pass. He let it pass.
But you grab a moment, or you let it pass.
Learn what you do not know. Understand the consequences of counting the moments.
I love you every day, Mom
There are many things in my life that I wish I could take back. Many moments I would recast.
Personally, I always wondered about authors and celebrities who loudly declared there was no God. It was usually when they were healthy and popular and being listened to by crowds. What happens, I wondered, in the quiet moments before death? By then, they have lost the stage, the world has moved on. If suddenly, in their last gasping moments, through fear, a vision, a late enlightenment, they change their minds about God, who would know?
when all this started, I asked myself, 'Am I going to withdraw from the world, like most people do, or am I going to live?' I decided I am going to live-or at least try to live-the way I want, with dignity, with courage, with humor, with composure.
People come down for baseball or football or hockey and drive by the refurbished Fox and State theaters, they see the new Hard Rock Cafe, the Borders bookstore, the bars and restaurants, the loft conversions. You can't drive around and not see what's happening down here.
I've always said I have one skill. That skill - if I have it at all - is storytelling.
Love lost is still love. It takes a different form, thats all. You cant 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. Life has to end. Love doesnt.