Fi died and everything that I'd believed in until then blinked out with him. He was smart and self-aware, too, and great company for his two sisters, the perfect son. Now he was gone and his mother was in unimaginable agony, the most aloneness I'd ever known.
The book's subtitle is misleading: this is less the story of Fi than of his mother's grief. Losing Fi was on a different scale, the worst thing I'd ever felt. Unimaginable.
She doesn't want to know why Fi died, won't give a blood sample to see if she carries the gene, the poison, the error that killed him. Grief drives her to the edge of reason.
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