And father of Lilyīloom-that strange girl with the erratic red hair who once fell in love with a homeless guy and brought great shame upon her entire family. Husband of the highly adored Jenny Bloom, the most revered teaching assistant in all of Plethora. Owner of the most successful real-estate agency within city limits. Adored mayor of my hometown of Plethora, Maine.

It was the funeral of the prodigious Andrew Bloom, after all. Or the one delivered by Steve Jobs’s sister. Don’t get me wrong the eulogy I delivered wasn’t profound enough to make history, like the one Brooke Shields delivered at Michael Jackson’s funeral. My mother, who probably won’t speak to me for a solid year after today. I guess that would depend on whether you were asking my mother or me. It very well could be considered the most disastrous. Particularly today, considering I just-twelve hours earlier-gave one of the most epic eulogies the people of Plethora, Maine, have ever witnessed. This was a bad idea.” Somehow, I think not. Do they look at the ground as it rushes toward them and think, “Well, crap. Do they ever regret it? In the moment after letting go and the second before they make impact, there has to be a little bit of remorse in that brief free fall.

I’m more focused on other people, and how they ultimately come to the decision to just end their own lives. I like my life enough to want to see it through. And for my mother, who made sure we never saw him at his worst.Ĭhapter One As I sit here with one foot on either side of the ledge, looking down from twelve stories above the streets of Boston, I can’t help but think about suicide. For my father, who tried his very best not to be his worst.

It ends with us book