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Any arrival at dawn necessitates the navigation of night beforehand. It is written in the very cycle of life. History is continuously being written and rewritten, and every breath serves us another glorious opportunity to forge forward from the past. As I trundled to the hospice elevator, tear-stained face in open sight, I tried to grasp the greater tragedy: that my father had died, or that we had never had a loving relationship. I had thought silence might be welcome at that point, but I was wrong. Transience: From Failure to Future in a Scarred Family demonstrates how a reasoned examination...