Take a bow, Gracie

I can count on one hand the number of books that have made me cry and I remember every single one of them and why. Sometimes it's nothing more than a word or a phrase and it evokes feelings or memories from the past. Or perhaps it's the connection to the characters or the sheer genius of the author.  Or any combination there of.

In the instance of P.S. I Love You by Cecilia Ahern, I was on an emotional roller coaster from cover to cover. While never having lost a spouse (and I hope that never changes), I understand the pain of loosing someone you love. My grandmother passed away after years of fighting cancer and I miss her as much today as I did the day I found out. As much as I cried, they were tears of healing as well as of pain while following Holly's and Gerry's (beyond the grave) journey. Who wouldn't want our lost loved ones sending us actual words of encouragement after they're gone? To help us move on the way that Gerry did for Holly?

"PS, I love you, Holly, and I know you love me. You don't need my belongings to remember me by, you don't need to keep them as proof that I existed or still exist in your mind. You don't need to wear my sweater to feel me around you; I'm already there... always wrapping my arms around you."

Sometimes it is hard to remember the truth behind those words. When your memories start to fade around the edges and you forget the sound of their voice or the way they smell. It's harder to deal with death when you're young that way. I can't remember much about my grandmother; her face is blurry in my mind. But I can remember that my grandfather always smelled like the mints he kept in the house and the sound of his voice when he told me "shut up, you talk too much" when I was being quiet.

While the reasons for my feelings as far as PS I Love You are obvious, there are other books that reduced me to tears where the reasons are less so, such as Karen Marie Moning's The Immortal Highlander.

"You were firing questions at me today, trying to get inside my head.
You asked if I believed in God.
I told you of course I do- I've always had a strong sense of self.

Your house is quiet now, you're sleeping upstairs and I'm alone with this blasted, idiotic book that purports to tally the sum of my life, and fact is, maybe I do.
But maybe, ka-lyrra, your God doesn't believe in me."

Adam Black is arrogant, irreverent and, at most times, a complete ass. But seeing this glimpse into the somewhat compassionate depths of his soul had be blubbering like a baby. The words themselves, out of context, aren't perhaps so tear jerking, but in the environs of the book it's a turning point. 

Unholy Magic by Stacia Kane, the second in her Downside Ghosts series, centers around Chess Putnam a post-apocalyptic Church employee who banishes ghosts. She also happens to live in the slums and pops pills like there's no tomorrow. Not much on the surface to recommend her or, seemingly, the series, but it is a dark, compelling world that Kane paints and despite or perhaps because of all her short comings, Chess worms her way into your heart even when she makes colossal screw ups.

Without posting a huge spoiler for anyone who hasn't read this series (what are you waiting for?), I was hooked on this series before I even knew what happened and the end of this book ripped my heart out and stomped on it. 

"His eyes were closed. His body was still. She picked up his hand, tried to get him to look at her, to talk to her, but he would not, and her mind refused to accept it and her eyes refused to see it..."

I was crying off and on for a few days after this book, which may be supremely pathetic, but I blame it on the fact that I had just been screwed over romantically, speaking. And that I am just that lame and books steal my soul. I get more invested in books than in movies. There's more description, more time to get entangled in the world the author creates. It makes me wonder how I could have ever thought I didn't enjoy reading.