"How far we all come. How far we all come away from ourselves. So far, so much between, you can never go home again. You can go home, it's good to go home, but you never really get all the way home again in your life. And what's it all for? All I tried to be, all I ever wanted and went away for, what's it all for?
Everything was... better than he ever deserved; only whatever it was and however good it was, it wasn't what you once had been, and had lost and could never have again, and once in a while, once in a long time, you remembered and knew how far you were away, and it hit you hard enough, that little while it lasted, to break your heart."
A Death in the Family
(found in my 1977 journal)