" Here's the bitch of it: You can't mourn a man who didn't love you. But that is what I will do. I will mourn quietly not being loved--for at least a while. I ought to be too grown up for childish grief and rage at such an elemental lack, but somehow I know I am not. It is the original injury.

Publicly there will be no real leave-taking: his friends are dead or long cheated in some scheme. He did not live in a community. He lived on the very edge of society and took pride in that. This was a man who had no possessions, no house, nothing of his own--a fact that he repeated over and over with a real smile. At the end it was cash only. And trail of family and friends left with worthless IOUs. "

― Margaux Bergen , Navigating Life: Things I Wish My Mother Had Told Me