When he was born he was alive.  That was one thing

. . .His lips: how barely pink they were, the pink of the rim of the sky at winter dusk.

. . . His hands like sea creatures curled and stretched, as if charged with purpose and intent.  Five of his fingers closed around one of his mother’s and held it while he slept.

The Grief of Others by Leah Hager Cohen

From the book jacket:

“How does a family transcend its own pain?  How do the secrets we keep shape our lives and the lives of those we love?  In this gracefully written, elegantly structured novel, Leah Hager Cohen has created an indelible cast of characters whose story is at once wrenching and redemptive.  This is a beautiful book.” – Dani Shapiro, author of Family History

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