A Thousand Broken Pieces (A Thousand Boy Kisses #2)

by Tillie Cole

“I have come to understand that death, for the sick, is not so hard to endure. For us, eventually our pain ends, we go to a better place. But for those left behind, their pain only magnifies.”

She looked over her shoulder, to where Rune was sitting on the bed, laying kiss after kiss on my older sister’s hands, her fingers, her face, looking at his Poppymin like he always had—like she had been designed solely for him.

In that moment, I lost something in my soul that I knew I would never get back.

I was simply broken. I didn’t know how to heal, how to put myself back together again. The truth was, when Poppy died, all light vanished from my world, and I’d been stumbling around in the dark ever since.

grief never left us. Instead we adapted, like it was a new appendage we had to learn to use. That at any moment, pain and heartache could strike and break us. But eventually we would develop the tools to cope with it and find a way to move on.

Because she was buried in the ground behind me. Eternally seventeen. The age I was now. Never to grow old. Never to shine her light. Never to share her music. A travesty the world would forever be deprived of.

“But the thing I’ve found hardest since we lost Poppy…” I held my breath, waiting for what she would say. Ida’s shoulders dropped and she whispered, “Was that awful day… I lost you too.”

Poppy, please, if you can hear me. Help me. Please, just one last time. Help me get through this. Help me learn how to live without you. Help me be okay.

A loved one’s death wasn’t a onetime thing that you had to endure. It was an endless cycle. A cruel Groundhog Day that burned away at your heart and soul until there was nothing left but scorched flesh where they once had been.

“Some people are only in our lives for a short time, but the mark they leave on us is a cherished tattoo.”

“She was my rock. My ship’s anchor, and I’ve been unmoored ever since.”

Two broken pieces searching for a way to feel whole.

“Keep your heart open and let love in when it should present itself…”

Hockey was Cill, and I am hockey. Cill was me and I was him and now it’s all blown to hell.”

“If someone judges you for how long it’s taking you to move past a loved one’s death, be happy for them, because it means they’ve never experienced it.”

But that miracle never came. I knew now that when it came to death, they rarely do.

“Your grief does not make you a bad person. The way you process it does not make you weak.

“That that which is broken, once repaired, can be more beautiful than it was before.”