The Words by Ashley Jade

Today’s blog is also one I posted on my previous website. It’s doing double duty as a review of The Words by Ashley Jade and my own thoughts and musings on the subject of grief. While I didn’t intentionally read this book right before my own novella would be released, an important theme to this book and mine is grief. The timing was not intentional, but perhaps kismet. (Is that not an awesome word?)

Ashley Jade’s romance The Words is… frustrating. Heart-wrenching. Tear inducing. It ties you up in tight little knots, only to reassure you that everything will be okay. Right before tying you up in knots again. I absolutely adored Phoenix Fucking Walker. (On the subject of book boyfriends, he’s a close number 2.)

Link: Growly, Grumpy Book Boyfriends

Phoenix Fucking Walker is a growly, imperfect, damaged Alpha male, and dammit, I want one. (Ashley Jade, where can I order one?) I’m all for a book that shows people to be the flawed, sometimes selfish creatures they are, and this book does that.

PFW has made some mistakes. Okay, so they’re whoppers. He realizes this, far far too late, and is now stuck in a mess completely of his own making. If he’s going to try to fix it, he’ll have to do some world-class groveling. And PFW, in his new iteration does. Not. Grovel. He’s got to put his fear, his pride, his shame, and his self-hatred aside, and that’s not easy for anyone.

And can I just point out how dreamy the cover is? Yum.

Lennon Michael is an innocent, starry-eyed teenager at the beginning. She is a normal, overweight, bullied girl who sees something in someone no one sees. The innocent teenager doesn’t remain innocent very long. She is unapologetically betrayed, and her dreams ruined. Between tragedies in her life and betrayal, she is understandably angry and disillusioned.

The Words is about dreams. It’s about your deepest desires, the dream you think is unattainable, and the choices you make when that dream becomes even a remote possibility. How far would you go? What would you be willing to do when the possibility is staring you in the face, only if? Would you make the right choice? What if you believed that dream was the only thing keeping you from giving up? That is the choice Phoenix faces, and it’s not one a teenager should have to make.

***Spoiler Alert***

Phoenix Fucking Walker makes his choice. It’s one most teenagers would make. They have no real understanding of consequences, the future, or what is truly important. Throughout the story, however, Phoenix slowly realizes how badly he screwed up and what his priority should have been all along. When Lennon’s life crashes around her, when she needs Phoenix to step up, he does. And holy hell, Ashley Jade brings out the big guns. She hits you right in the feels, and it’s a TKO. (I actually sobbed while reading this book.)

While many books bring out the feels, many have made me sad. (or happy, or angry, etc.) Few have made me bawl. Be forewarned: Before reading this book, (and you have to read it) get out your tissues. Clear your calendar, get rid of the fam, get the ice cream and the chocolate, and get cozy. You don’t need anyone to see you torn apart by a book. And this book will leave you with a major book hangover. My heart bled out onto the floor. Thank goodness Phoenix Fucking Walker fixed it.

Ashley Jade does a great job of making you feel Lennox’s pain. She wraps you up in her grief and drags you through the mess. Grief is a funny (not haha funny) thing. Some shut down and become empty shells. (Me.) Some become angry. (Also me.) While some, like Lennox, explode from the hurt, letting their emotions overwhelm them, sweeping up everyone around them before shutting down. I can picture her in the hospital room wailing. I can picture Phoenix physically hurting for her. I can picture doctors and nurses tearing up seeing and hearing her visceral grief.

When I lost my husband, I felt betrayed, angry, disrespected, and disregarded. I felt as though I was not important enough to fight for. He made his choice, and he will never come back and fix what he did. To this day (almost 8 years later – now 8.5 years), I’m still damaged. I no longer have faith in finding someone for me. I no longer have trust. I got stuck in the anger and betrayal, and when I’m honest with myself, I’m not sure I’ll ever get beyond it.

I’ve written about moving forward versus moving on before. (If I can find this blog, I’ll repost it.) Anyone can move on. It doesn’t require dealing with grief. It doesn’t require forgiveness. All it requires is for you to ignore the deepest part of what you feel. It only requires you shoving it in a box in your mind and throwing away the key.

Moving forward is a whole different thing. It requires you to forgive yourself. It requires you to admit you need help. It requires you to put away any guilt and shame. And no, it won’t be perfect. Your feelings and emotions will sneak out of their box. They will invade your thoughts and your dreams. They will make you doubt yourself and everyone around you.

Moving forward simply means that when this happens, you are willing to lean on someone else, that you are willing to let them in. It means understanding that you are not alone and that people care. Allow yourself to grieve when you need to. No matter how long it’s been or how often you have to grieve. Allow the grace to forgive yourself for your (real or imagined) mistakes.

When I got that phone call, my world shattered. I (think) felt all the things. Sadness, anger, loneliness, all of it. I was wrung out and empty. And I felt alone. If you are in the throes of grief, give yourself time to feel, but don’t allow yourself to wallow. If you have a friend or family member who is grieving, be there for them.

They don’t need you to fix anything. They don’t need your advice. And they certainly don’t need to listen to your story. What they need is a hug, a shoulder, and someone to listen. That’s it. Whenever and where ever they need it, they need to be heard. Put your own shit aside and care for them.

Grief is an abyss that if you allow it, will never let you crawl out. Forgive yourself. Allow yourself to feel all the things. Then put on your big girl panties (or pull yourself up by your bootstraps) and live. Crawl out of the abyss. And if a hand reaches out to help you, for crying out loud, accept the help. It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you strong. ❤

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