Cathedral

Going through Raymond Carver's book of short stories Cathedral again. All I remember from the last time (read quickly at an airport about 3 years ago) was that story "Where I'm Calling From," and how the last few paragraphs of that story inspired me to cry brokenly about the beauty of doomed relationships for days. Funny thing is, I re-read it today and the ending of this version isn't like how I remember it at all.

Where did those lines come from? Did I just make it up?

I still love Raymond Carver's All of Us (a book of semi-autobiographical poetry) but not as much as I used to. Am I growing further from the emotional tumult that was Carver's life? Have I passed the point of potentially becoming an alcoholic? (Cathedral, by the way, is a terrific book to read if you want to know what it's like to be an alcoholic, from an alcoholic's mind). Is this maturity or apathy?

I feel like I'm changing, but I can't tell if it's toward the person I want to be or not. :-/