And my sister, my Lindsey, left me in her memories, where I was meant to be.

Each time I told my story, I lost a bit, the smallest drop of pain.

As she brought prospective buyers through, the realtor said it was an oil stain, but it was me, seeping out of the bag.

My father had not been outside the house except to drive back and forth to work or sit out in the backyard, for months, nor had he seen his neighbors. Now he looked at them, from face to face, until he realized I had been loved by people he didn't even recognize. His heart filled up, warm again as it had not been in what seemed so long to him- save small forgotten moments with Buckley, the accidents of love that happened with his son. ~pgs 209-210; Buckley, Lindsey and Jack on Susie

There’s no condition one adjusts to so quickly as a state of war.

I wish you all a long and happy life

Ruth hadn't talked to my sister since before my death, and then it was only to excuse herself in the hallway at school. But she'd seen Lindsey walking home with Samuel and seen her smile with him. She watched as my sister said yes to pancakes and no to everything else. She had tried to imagine herself being my sister as she had spent time imagining being me.