ugh. I don't want to spoil what's in the book, but then again -- you all KNOW the story. It's just like... you can't read something like this without wanting to talk to someone about it like every other paragraph.
I know I've said a few times that I never really *felt* sad about Jonathan's death until very recently. It's hard to verbalize this, but I was always like "oh, that's terrible," etc, etc, but I never had a tangible *feeling* of being sad. Now I do. For a lot of reasons.
So now I'm up to the part where they're all at the theatre just after getting the news, and I'm sitting here reading this, having trouble doing so. Daphne talks about this idea of doing what you have to do, and then just being gone. And I think about what Tracie said at the Q&A last week: that so many artists are like "I'm gonna change the world, I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna make a difference." And Jonathan did. He actually did.
I was just talking to my roommate about this, and then gave up when my lips started trembling. But this idea of doing what you're here to do and then just being gone. It's weird. It's almost unfair, this notion that Jonathan put this piece into the world, and just left it to take on its own life and to take off and fly. It never really has before, but that kills me.
My pocket-change. It's been a while since I've read a book that took me in like this, I guess.
A work of art is an invitation to love.
