Review: Every Last One by Anne Quindlen

Synopsis:

Mary Beth Latham has built her life around her family, around caring for her three teenage children and preserving the rituals of their daily life. When one of her sons becomes depressed, Mary Beth focuses on him, only to be blindsided by a shocking act of violence. What happens afterward is a testament to the power of a woman’s love and determination, and to the invisible lines of hope and healing that connect one human being to another. Ultimately, as rendered in Anna Quindlen’s mesmerizing prose, Every Last One is a novel about facing every last one of the things we fear the most, about finding ways to navigate a road we never intended to travel. - from Random House, Inc.

Review:

I have not cried as hard as I had in this book for a long time! I don't even remember when the last time was. 9/11 had shocked every American to the core, and its effect on Anna Quindlen as a whole was, it started her worrying about security. About safety. She felt that Americans have this illusion about being secure. This worrying affected her most because she's a parent. There are ways that security is blindsided by events that's beyond control. You can teach your child to become the most careful driver ever but that doesn't help when there's a drunk driver on the road. Still, this example is very simple compared to what she'd done with this novel.

The first half of the book drags a little, dragging because if you happen to have a steady income and you can provide well for your family, this is the kind of every day life that you get every day--normalcy, comfortable living, steady marriage, sibling rivalry and bickering, one daughter or son needing more attention than the other, that steady relationship with a man or a woman and the comfortable familiarity that provides . When the most unimaginable, horrifying and unthinkable happened to this family, this normalcy became a striking contrast that identified the second half. Unspeakable loss. Numbing grief. Days that just won't stop. Where to find strength? How to continue?

This is about consequences and judgment, middle age, teenage grief, secrets, acceptance, remembrance, and a lot of hope for the future. More than hope is love. Mary Beth's love for her family--the ones that she'd lost and the one who grieves with her and who needs her more than anything in the world--eventually showed her the way to go on living.

I have not cried this much. I'm not sure if I can read it again but it is a book I'm sure I will never forget.

Quotes: (spoiler warning)

“Every day, with few variations – snow, minor illnesses, the failure of the paper to arrive, a lost backpack, a sleepover that’s left us one, or two, or sometimes even three kids shy of the usual full set – every day is like this. Average. Ordinary. More or less.”

“This is how I learn most of what I know about my children and their friends: by sitting in the driver's seat and keeping quiet.” 

“Here is one of the worst things about having someone you love die: It happens again every single morning.”

"Sometimes I remind myself that I almost skipped the party, that I almost went to a different college, that the whim of a minute could have changed everything and everyone. Our lives, so settled, so specific, are built on happenstance.” 

“I sit on the sofa again, Ginger's head on one of my insteps. I finger the long scar on my shoulder and think, Glen is gone, Ruby is gone, Max is gone. It's the way I used to memorize poetry when I was younger. It's like I am trying to teach it to myself so I will understand.”

“I am. Every day I am trying.

I am trying for Alex.

I am trying for Ruby.

I am trying for Max.

I am trying for Glen.

It's all I know how to do now. This is my life. I am trying."

Six Kids and Twins

I have twins. I'm a mother of six already when I got my twins. The sixth is in the second grade and the first in college and suddenly, I'm pregnant with twins. Well, I know that I have a pair of twin aunts and about a pair of twin cousins, too. But I already have six adorable, noisy, boisterous, pasaway kids. Twins. Beautiful, elegant, both-cheek-dimpled, bubbly beautiful, beautiful twins. Who can resist them?

I will kill anyone who would!

Sofia Eleina and Sofia Ysabela are four month olds now and adored by everyone in the household. They  laugh and snicker, they can almost crawl, they still prefer being breastfed than bottle-fed. They watch TV, they coo and shout. Most of all, those adorable, charming, vivid smiles gets better and better. I still can't believe I have them. I wake up in the morning and the first thing I'll smell is their smell, and I'll smile. The first thing I'll reach out for is the one who's nearest. And I'll suddenly feel guilty for paying attention to one so I'll reach for the other. God help me. I get guilty a hundred times during a day since I've had them.

Sometimes I would go research about twins in the web just to see if I'm shaping up. It's a challenge, double-up and yes, I feel the pressure everyday. For after everything that I do, for every deed that I've committed, I know that one day I will be remembered for being what kind of a mother I've been. Everything else that I did felt selfish everytime I remember I'm a mother because this is the one role I feel very helpless of doing. whatever you read in mags and online about parenting doesn't really help on hand. You go with your instinct. and when you love so much, that instinct will give you everything you need. I love all my kids very much. And I'm scared because along the way, mistakes will be part of our lives. One parent already buckled under the pressure. It's all up to me now.

There are tons to say. It's always not enough.

A mother should do everything she could. 

And I will.