Quotes by Lisa Schroeder

Ill lose myself in the pain. It might not make sense. But it works.

After Lucca died, everything shut down. I couldnt eat. I couldnt sleep. I couldnt talk. Somehow they got me on the plane and back home.

«I’ve never been to a funeral until today. I see dazzling arrangements of red, yellow, and purple flowers with long, green stems. I see a stained-glass window with a white dove, a yellow sun, a blue sky. I see a gold cross, standing tall, shiny, brilliant. And I see black. Black dresses. Black pants. Black shoes. Black bibles. Black is my favorite color. Jackson asked me about it one time.“Ava, why don’t you like pink? Or yellow? Or blue?” ”I love black,” I said. ”It suits me.” ”I suit you,” he said. I’m not so sure I love black anymore.And then, beyond the flowers, beneath the stained-glass window, beside the cross, I see the white casket. I see red, burning love disappear forever. As we pull away, my eyes stay glued to the casket. It’s proof that sometimes life does not go on. I look around. If tears could bring him back, there’d be enough to bring him back a hundred times. That’s not what I’m thinking. I’m thinking, I hate good-byes. It’s like I was a garden salad with a light vinaigrette, and Jackson was a platter of seafood Cajun pasta. Alone, we were good. Together, we were fantastic.Memories might keep him alive. But they might kill me.»

Heads: This girlTails: That girl

And then it hits me like a fast, open-palmed, stinging smack in the face.Having a ghost boyfriend WASweird

And what I think is thatwhen you’re completely aloneand deep inside yourselfwith feelings no one else can understand,there really aren’t a hundred places to go. It’s like if I woke up one dayand looked outside and saw purple treesand red grass and green dogs,is there anyone I could tell who would understand? No.There’d be no one.It’s exactly like that. He saw purple treesand red grass and green dogswhile no one else did.   And maybe, he just got tiredof seeing them.

Memories fall like snowflakes upon my dreams. The snowflakes toss and tumble, each different and yet the same.

And years from now,you may not remember exactly what you ate.But you’ll remember who you ate with.

I like the memories because they remind meI havent always beenthis girl,constantly mad or scaredor confused.

I know. You can be fine, and then,out of nowhere,a memory blindsides you.

When he opens the door, I step in and an army of memories comes at me from all sides.

He was a character.A character who should still be here. Damn it all to hell.He should still be here.

Joy, not sorrow.Laughter, not tears.Life, not death.Love, not blame.

When you meet someoneso different from yourself,in a good way,you don’t even have to kissto have fireworks go off.

WRAP ME UPI shiver.He pulls away.Are you cold? he asks.A little.Plus... you know.What?Um... your kisses?He laughs,pulls me downonto the blanketand wraps his armsand legs around me.Perfect.My kind of blanket.

I look at him and realize, maybe I overreacted. Maybe more than once.

The road to happiness is paved with good deeds for others.

Okay.I will go.But only ifyou will give meyour guiltto takewith me.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ME AND YOUWhen I hold a rose,I see the soft, velvety petalsand smile, becausetucked betweenthose precious petalsis a special gift -the one of a fragrance,pure and sweet.When you hold a rose,you see the thornsalong the stem,and you frownbecause those thornscan bring you painand cause you to bleed.I see the gift.You see the tragedy.More and moreI fear that one of these dayssomeone will hand me a roseand all I will seeare thorns.Talk about tragedy.

I know its not the end...its only just the beginning.