It S Not Goodbye It S See You Soon

A picture book about loss and the fear of saying goodbye.

An Inspirational Book about Life, Love and Loss Richard Lawrence Belford is an inspirational writer whose twenty-year creative journey has not only allowed him to become well-published, but has also been fueled by his genuine desire to provide faith, comfort and hope to those in grief. His inspiring parables have been published in dozens of inspirational journals, magazines, periodicals and on numerous websites. A parable by definition is a symbolic short story that illustrates or teaches some truth, religious principle or moral lesson. Richard trusts this book's beautifully illustrated artwork, inspiring quotes and its collection of his inspirational parables, along with the stories behind their creation will help bring some small measure of solace to those grieving the loss of someone dear to their heart.Now, although "It's Not Goodbye, It's See You Later" is about loss, it's also about the lives, and the love shared by family & friends. As just one of literary millions of people who have lived, loved and experienced loss Richard strongly encourages you to read this book. He truly believes it will inspire you to always try and say, "I'll see you later, instead of goodbye." Richard has dedicated the book to the memory, and written its forward as a tribute to his father. He hopes it makes him proud

All people could do was speculate on the fate of those who vanished - strangers; seemingly random, unconnected: all plucked from their lives and never seen again. The notes found left behind, apparently describing some slender reason for their removal, were all that linked them. They were all delivered by one man. Rodney Moon had admitted seeing those who had been disappeared and to passing the notes, but denied any involvement beyond that. Who wrote the letters, then? Moon shrugged during the trial: 'It has no name,' he said. 'It's a bogeyman. A monster.' He was not mourned when the vengeful bereft finally found him. Some years later, four strangers; seemingly random, unconnected, all take the last train home. But something each of them has forgotten - or is trying to forget - is catching up with them; with a terrible, inexorable purpose. The devil is in the detail, as they say.

After being diagnosed with terminal cancer, a professor shares the lessons he's learned—about living in the present, building a legacy, and taking full advantage of the time you have—in this life-changing classic. "We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand." —Randy Pausch A lot of professors give talks titled "The Last Lecture." Professors are asked to consider their demise and to ruminate on what matters most to them. And while they speak, audiences can't help but mull over the same question: What wisdom would we impart to the world if we knew it was our last chance? If we had to vanish tomorrow, what would we want as our legacy? When Randy Pausch, a computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon, was asked to give such a lecture, he didn't have to imagine it as his last, since he had recently been diagnosed with terminal cancer. But the lecture he gave—"Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams"—wasn't about dying. It was about the importance of overcoming obstacles, of enabling the dreams of others, of seizing every moment (because "time is all you have . . . and you may find one day that you have less than you think"). It was a summation of everything Randy had come to believe. It was about living. In this book, Randy Pausch has combined the humor, inspiration and intelligence that made his lecture such a phenomenon and given it an indelible form. It is a book that will be shared for generations to come.

It’s Not Goodbye is a compilation of personal interviews of parents and siblings who have experienced the loss of a child. This book provides insight into how parents and siblings survived the loss and managed to continue living their life with meaning and hope.

THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER What would you do with one last year? Susan Spencer-Wendel was determined to laugh instead of cry. In June 2011, Susan Spencer-Wendel learned she had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) - Lou Gehrig's disease - an irreversible condition that systematically destroys the nerves that power the muscles. She was 44-years-old, with three young children, and she had only one year of health remaining. She decided to live that year with joy. She left her job as a journalist and spent time with her family. She built a meeting place for friends in her backyard. And she took seven trips with the seven most important people in her life. As her health declined, Susan journeyed to the Yukon, Hungary, the Bahamas, and Cyprus. She went to the beach with her sons and to Kleinfeld's bridal shop in New York City with her teenage daughter, Marina, for a glimpse of the wedding she would never attend. She also wrote this book. No longer able to walk or even lift her arms, she tapped it out letter by letter on her iPhone using only her right thumb, the last finger still working. And yet Until I Say Good-Bye is not angry or bitter. It is sad in parts - how could it not be? - but it is filled with Susan's optimism, joie de vivre and sens of humour. It is a book that, like Susan, will make everyone smile. From a hilarious family Christmas disaster to the decrepit monastery in eastern Cyprus where she rediscovered her heritage, Until I Say Good-Bye is Susan Spencer-Wendel's unforgettable gift to her loved ones and to us: a record of their final experiences together and a reminder that every day is better when it is lived with joy.

“[Art Buchwald] has given his friends, their families, and his audiences so many laughs and so much joy through the years that that alone would be an enduring legacy. But Art has never been just about the quick laugh. His humor is a road map to essential truths and insights that might otherwise have eluded us.”—Tom Brokaw When doctors told Art Buchwald that his kidneys were kaput, the renowned humorist declined dialysis and checked into a Washington, D.C., hospice to live out his final days. Months later, “The Man Who Wouldn’t Die” was still there, feeling good, holding court in a nonstop “salon” for his family and dozens of famous friends, and confronting things you usually don’t talk about before you die; he even jokes about them. Here Buchwald shares not only his remarkable experience—as dozens of old pals from Ethel Kennedy to John Glenn to the Queen of Swaziland join the party—but also his whole wonderful life: his first love, an early brush with death in a foxhole on Eniwetok Atoll, his fourteen champagne years in Paris, fame as a columnist syndicated in hundreds of newspapers, and his incarnation as hospice superstar. Buchwald also shares his sorrows: coping with an absent mother, childhood in a foster home, and separation from his wife, Ann. He plans his funeral (with a priest, a rabbi, and Billy Graham, to cover all the bases) and strategizes how to land a big obituary in The New York Times (“Make sure no head of state or Nobel Prize winner dies on the same day”). He describes how he and a few of his famous friends finagled cut-rate burial plots on Martha’s Vineyard and how he acquired a Picasso drawing without really trying. What we have here is a national treasure, the complete Buchwald, uncertain of where the next days or weeks may take him but unfazed by the inevitable, living life to the fullest, with frankness, dignity, and humor.