Unknown origin?

       Recently I blogged about my late remembrance of Kindle on my laptop. So, when I opened Kindle, what did I find? Found were a host of titles I'd already read. Also found was a book which I have no recollection of downloading, nor anything about it. Words in Deep Blue, Cath Crowley,...when/how/why did I get it?
     So, what was I to do?...read it of course. It was engaging from the get go. Joanne had a practice of giving a book one chapter and if it wasn't engaging she'd put it aside. Not there yet, I'm inching in that direction. This one passed the test and remained so until the end. It's kind of a romance but what makes it more significant is the death of the protagonist's (Rachel's) brother before the book opens, and the impact of that death on the story. Rachel is in a significant depression over the death and as much as the book is romance it is also the story of grief work.
     When her loss becomes known to others one of her acquaintances, whose wife died twenty years earlier, writes to Rachel.

" I lost my wife twenty years ago, and sometimes I feel as if I have lived without her for a decade, and sometimes I feel as though I lost her just a minute before. I write “lost,” but I have grown to hate that expression. She was not a set of keys or a hat. The equivalent is saying that I have misplaced my lungs. I know you understand what I mean. I can see it in your face. There comes a time when the nongrievers go back to life, even some of the grievers, and you’re left trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. What’s the point in living on past the moment when those we have loved have left us? And how can we ever forgive ourselves for letting them go? I thought about these things a great deal after my wife died. I met her when I was twenty-one. She was my best friend. I could not imagine life without her... I tried to save my wife. I tried to resuscitate her while I waited for the ambulance. I think often about that last kiss—breathless in a way so different from the first. And I comfort myself with the thought that I tried. And that it was beyond my control.  But I do believe we have choices—how we love and how much, what we read, where we travel. How we live after the person we love has died or left us. Whether or not we decide to take the risk and live again."  PP. 258-260

   "Lost"...I,  too, have never liked that expression. It's that euphemistic need to avoid saying "she died."  "She was my best friend. I could not imagine life without her..."  Friendship is a major factor in marriage, indeed "my best friend."
    I wish I knew the circumstances of loading Words in Deep Blue, unto my Kindle but, regardless, I'm glad I did.

Takk for alt,

Al

Trygve, while I read.