"Olivia's gone," he said in a quiet voice. He took in a large breath and let it out slowly, trying to get control of his voice. "Her mother found her ...his morning. The prescription painkillers that the doctor had prescribed was on the table empty and she wasn't breathing. The paramedics said she had died early this morning, a couple of hours before her mom found her." He was so choked up that he couldn't speak anymore. He didn't break out in sobs; rather he sat there in shock with tears. Love is an idea; it is not real. Nothing we think orfeel--especially feel--is real.Only the moment is real. The now. The incident and the event are real,but only as long as they happen, for memories, also, are unreal.Very well. Let me explain. Perhaps an example will help. My breasts arereal when their weight is in my hands--or yours. They have density, then;they are tangible; they are measurable. Unmistakably, they haveexistence. But, after the moment, when they are no longer held, they. More

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