“What about the funerals?” I asked. My voice was bitter. Molly was quiet for a long moment before she said, gently, “Those, too.” I bowed my head. I counted my breaths. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re trying to be kind and I’m just …” “Don’t,” she said. “It’s supposed to hurt, Harry. I’m glad you hurt. It means you’re still you.”
