When Gerry died, I wanted to be dead.
When he died, a piece of me did die, but a part of me was born too.
-Holly, Postscript
When I first read P.S. I Love You, I was emotionally drained by its simplicity and the profound love Gerry had for Holly. My teenage self couldn’t help but think, “I want someone like Gerry in my life.” The first book followed Holly as she found her footing, motivated by the letters Gerry left for her, arriving each month for ten months. Each letter was a lifeline, helping her take another step forward. But once the letters stop, what happens then? The story ends with the line, “But I’m just a chapter in yours. There’ll be more. I promise. So here it comes, the big one: Don’t be afraid to fall in love again.” It left us wondering—does Holly ever truly move on?
That’s exactly what Postscript explores. Seven years after Gerry’s death, we see how Holly has rebuilt her life. The book shifts the lens to revisit those letters, forcing Holly to re-examine why Gerry wrote them the way he did. Did each word carry a hidden meaning, or were they simply a way to help her move on? As Holly grapples with these questions, she risks unraveling the life and relationships she’s worked so hard to rebuild. The book digs deep into how people, like Holly, carry on after such a profound loss, even when the pain lingers. It’s a constant battle between holding on to the past and embracing the present—a struggle we all face in some form or another.
There’s a particularly poignant moment where Holly reflects: “Perhaps this is how Gerry felt while writing letters for me. While everything else was uncertain, or out of his control, he had this one thing under control. At the same time I was fighting for him to live, he was making preparations for after his death.”
Holly’s journey takes a new turn when, after speaking about Gerry’s letters on a podcast, she’s approached by terminally ill individuals who ask for her help in writing letters to their loved ones after they’re gone. It’s a bittersweet experience that forces her to confront how Gerry’s letters made her feel, what they meant, and the deep connection they maintained between them. This time, Holly isn't just reading the letters; she’s analyzing them, revisiting every word with a mix of nostalgia, confusion, and even doubt. Were they practical or something more? These layers of introspection were never explored in the first book, and the second part brings a sense of completion to those unanswered questions.
One of the themes Postscript touches on is the idea of “The One.” In the first book, we were wrapped in the belief that Holly and Gerry were soulmates. But now, the question becomes: what happens after “The One” is gone? This book offers a tender, heartbreaking exploration of what death does to those left behind, and how they slowly find a way to carry on.
So often, books focus on the immediate aftermath of loss, but few take the time to explore how it affects someone years later. Postscript does just that, offering a look into the long-term effects of grief and the ways people learn to live again.
I never expected a sequel to P.S. I Love You, and honestly, I didn’t feel like the first book needed one. The space and hollowness it left behind was beautiful in its own way. But Postscript doesn’t overshadow the original; instead, it deepens it. It enhances the story and gives us a fresh perspective on the love and loss that defined Holly’s journey. It’s the sequel we never saw coming, and yet, it feels necessary—and absolutely worth reading.
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