Did the living matter as much to the dead as the dead did to the living? Jane had tried, at some desperate point with David, to blame what happened on grief. Grief for her mother that she wasn’t even sure she felt. She felt it now in some new, unbearable way. Tangled up with her regret over him. Sometimes the tragedies of a person’s life didn’t happen neatly, single file, one at a time, but all at once, so that it was impossible to know how you felt about any part of the whole.
