A Pessimist's Guide to Love (Heartsong, #2)

by Jennifer Hartmann

What I’m starting to realize is that things meant to happen are just going to happen. There’s no preparing, no preventing. They just happen. And the risks we take, the memories we make, are the only things that count. That’s all that matters. Everything else is going to happen anyway.

Songs are funny like that—you might not hear them play for years, but you still remember every word. And I think it’s because songs are more than words, more than notes, more than verses and choruses. Words fade and scatter over time, but songs tied to life’s most precious memories live inside of us forever.

“Home is something I buried a long time ago,” he tells me, voice cracking with sentiment. A breath passes between us, a drumbeat. And then he whispers, “But I buried it inside you. Just in case I ever wanted to go back.”

“Even a tragedy can have a happy ending. Sometimes we just need to write it in ourselves.”

Within the tangled roots of grief, we stand to lose so much. But no one ever acknowledges what we stand to gain. Strength. Perspective. Appreciation. Resilience. Those things are often buried, overpowered by grief’s mighty right hand—suffering. They exist, though. There’s beauty in the breakdown, a glimmer of light hidden in the smoke. And sometimes, every once in a while, if you’re truly lucky… There is love.