Tag: Cathy Rentzenbrink

Cathy Rentzenbrink’s The Last Act of Love: Excerpt #5

After three weeks in Killingbeck, Matty came home with a tube coming out of his side and a bag to collect the pus from his lung. The homecoming was subdued. Every other time he’d come close to death and then survived we’d treated it as a triumph. This was the first time I caught myself wondering if it might have been better if he’d died.

— Cathy Rentzenbrink, The Last Act of Love (2015), p. 100.

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Cathy Rentzenbrink’s The Last Act of Love: Excerpt #4

Everything apart from being with Matty seemed irrelevant. I’d always kept diaries and notebooks, but now I wrote nothing. My words had gone AWOL. I couldn’t bear to read the pointless, silly rubbish the old me had written so I tied all my diaries up in two carrier bags and chucked them into the skip at the back of the pub.

— Cathy Rentzenbrink, The Last Act of Love (2015), p. 52.

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Cathy Rentzenbrink’s The Last Act of Love: Excerpt #3

Misunderstanding abounded. Because we always talked positively and hopefully about Matty, people tended to think he was doing better than he was and were then shocked if they visited him to find that his gaze was either vacant or his eyes looked over to the right, that his skin was deteriorating and that he had spots and blackheads for the first time in his life.

— Cathy Rentzenbrink, The Last Act of Love (2015), p. 49.

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Cathy Rentzenbrink’s The Last Act of Love: Excerpt #2

We were shown to a little room with a table and chairs, a kettle and an ashtray, and drank tea for what felt like hours and hours. I noticed a Guinness stain on the bottom edge of my cream shirt, knew that it would have happened as I’d leaned over the pump at work earlier, and thought how much the world had changed in the lifetime of that little stain.

— Cathy Rentzenbrink, The Last Act of Love (2015), p. 21.

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