Reblog this and tell me what was your biggest crying over a piece of fiction. You can be vague if you don't want to spoil.
When I was maybe 8? I was reading the Chronicles of Narnia, which took a long time because I was, y'know, 8. And I loved those books so much that that I was reading them, at least a bit, every day. It was the first series of books I read, and there were so many of them. 7! And when I got to the end of the last one, The Last Battle (which as an adult I am deeply unsatisfied with but at the time I didn't have any ability to be critical of), I just bawled my eyes out.
My mom asked me what was wrong and I couldn't really answer.
"Is it your book?" I nod.
"Did something bad happen in the story?" I shake my head.
"Is it because you finished?" I think. Nod.
My mom hugs me. "It's sad when something you love ends, isn't it it? Because you loved it so much and you feel empty without it."
I knew even then that I could reread the books (and I would, many times) and remember what I missed, but that it would never be quite as good. It wasn't the first time I'd felt that feeling, but it was the first time I had words to put to it. And I've learned since what my mother might have meant but didn't tell an 8 year old: That sadness like that is part of the love. That pain isn't always bad,because sometimes it's one more way of loving something. Or someone.















