第一章 有一种爱叫放手（30）（2/2）
《世界上最温情的故事》作者：吴文智 2017-04-14 12:57
un speculating that it might be a boy I had a crush on or one who had noticed me even though I didn’t know him.
When I was 17, a boy broke my heart. The night he called for the last time, I cried myself to sleep. When I awoke in the morning, there was a message scribbled on my mirror in red lipstick: “Heartily know, when half-gods go, the gods arrive.” I thought about that quotation from Emerson for a long time, and until my heart healed, I left it where my mother had written it. When I finally went to get the glass cleaner, my mother knew everything was all right again.
I don’t remember ever slamming my door in anger at her and shouting, “You just don’t understand!” because she did understand.
One month before my high-school graduation, my father died of a heart attack. My feelings ranged from grief to abandonment, fear and overwhelming anger that my dad was missing some of the most important events in my life. I became completely uninterested in my upcoming graduation, the senior-class play and the prom. But my mother, in the midst of her own grief, would not hear of my skipping any of those things.
The day before my father died, my mother and I had gone shopping for a prom dress. We’d found a spectacular one, with yards and yards of dotted Swiss in red white and blue, it made me feel like Scarlett O’Hara, but it was the wrong size. When my father died, I forgot about the dress.
When I was 17, a boy broke my heart. The night he called for the last time, I cried myself to sleep. When I awoke in the morning, there was a message scribbled on my mirror in red lipstick: “Heartily know, when half-gods go, the gods arrive.” I thought about that quotation from Emerson for a long time, and until my heart healed, I left it where my mother had written it. When I finally went to get the glass cleaner, my mother knew everything was all right again.
I don’t remember ever slamming my door in anger at her and shouting, “You just don’t understand!” because she did understand.
One month before my high-school graduation, my father died of a heart attack. My feelings ranged from grief to abandonment, fear and overwhelming anger that my dad was missing some of the most important events in my life. I became completely uninterested in my upcoming graduation, the senior-class play and the prom. But my mother, in the midst of her own grief, would not hear of my skipping any of those things.
The day before my father died, my mother and I had gone shopping for a prom dress. We’d found a spectacular one, with yards and yards of dotted Swiss in red white and blue, it made me feel like Scarlett O’Hara, but it was the wrong size. When my father died, I forgot about the dress.