The Two Lives of Lydia Bird

by Josie Silver

“I don’t believe in fairy tales or magic beans,”

“You’re the love of my life, Freddie Hunter,”

I’ll tell her how sometimes, on the dark days, she’s been the only light I could see.

He can’t even climb a stepladder without breaking out in a sweat;

Our mother is by and large a creature of habit; her home hasn’t changed much over the years,

Kathrin Magyar might be good, but she never stood a chance against the Bird family collective.

Death is a surefire way to become a complete social pariah.

It’s perfectly right that the world has kept turning, but sometimes I just want people to say they remember,

The problem with addiction is that at some point you have to give up whatever it is

that’s taken you over, or else give yourself over completely to it.

“People do strange things for good reasons sometimes,”

Grief is an odd thing. It’s mine, and no one can do it for me, but there’s been this whole supporting cast of silent actors around me in the wings.

If I’m the lead actor, then the show must go on.

my social skills have taken a knock, another casualty of spending too much time alone.

And then he turns and lights the wick of my candle, and I’ll never forget the look in his eyes—it’s as if he knows. He holds my gaze, and for a little while we just stand and stare at each other. This is it. This is all of our tomorrows, every day of our love concentrated into one small light that will burn out too soon. My hand shakes as I try to decide where to place my candle. I don’t want to let it go. In the end I stand it beside Freddie’s. “Time to go,” he says, his arm around my shoulder.

I’ve learned not to question my own actions and thoughts too deeply though, sometimes you just have to go with whatever gets you

“You can’t fix grief. It takes as long as it takes,”

“Time changes everything in the end, Freddie, and I’ve realized now that that’s okay,

because what we have is more than just here, or just now. You and me, we’re all the time, and we’re always, and we’re everywhere. If I live a million lifetimes, I’ll find you in all of them, Freddie Hunter.”

“Your secrets are your own here.”

The human brain is wired to cope with grief. It knows even as we fall into unfathomably dark places, there will be light again, and if we just keep moving forward in one brave straight line, however slowly, we’ll find our way back again.

You don’t get over losing someone you love in six months or two years or twenty, but you do have to find a way to carry on living without feeling as if everything that comes afterward is second best. Some people walk up mountains, others throw themselves out of planes. Everyone has to find their own way back, and if they’re lucky they’ll have people who love them to hold their hand.

Noisy, messy, complicated life, and I love it.

you can love people in different ways at different times of your life.