I will love again (even if it takes a lifetime to get over you)

I finished reading P.S. I love you, in a considerably shorter time than I did Lolita or Ulitskaya's new novel (which was my first Ulitskaya novel). The reason I felt like reading (and buying) it was that I saw the last ca. 30 minutes of the film on TV last year (or earlier this year, never mind) and quite liked it. Ever since I saw Clint Eastwood's Million Dollar Baby I've been a fan of Hilary (Hilarious) Swank, with her big smile and all. I can't remember seeing her in anything else, though. Perhaps I've heard from other people, e.g. my soulmate blogger, that it was a good piece of chick read, or perhaps I was just driven by mass media or my instincts.
Anyway, I got it and read it and loved it right from the cover (with its nice polka dots on baby blue).
I hope I don't have to tell you what it's about, but I will, briefly. It's about a 30-year-old Irish woman (girl) who lost her husband to brain tumor. One day she gets a mysterious envelope with the words "The List" written on it. It contains ten small envelopes, each corresponding to a month. That is a list of things to do written by her late husband in order to help her carry on. From funny ones like "buy yourself a bedside lamp" to important advice this guardian angel gives all kinds of instructions. As the months pass by we follow Holly Kennedy on her crusade of moving on and finding her place in life again.
In general I liked the book and it's I-will-survive point of view, and fortunately it didn't end with finding Mr Right as for example Bridget Jones's Diary or Someone Like You (or the Hungarian Csak szex és más semmi). I didn't always like the protagonist because she was often selfish or cruel, but I suppose that made her human (and more similar to me). The other characters weren't all genuine, for example I don't see why each heroine needs two ladies-in-waiting, and for me Shazzer and Jude in BJD were a lot funnier than Sharon and Denise here. The idea of a big Irish family was nice, though a bit too nice for me, especially mum and dad. Perhaps the most interesting family member was Richard, the eldest brother, who eventually got closer to Holly.
There were a few elements of the plot that I didn't like, for example it was too much for me that Sharon got pregnant, Denise got married, Richard was left by his wife, and Declan won an award, all this in one year. In the meantime our focus of attention was Holly and her whining, though I must say it wasn't half as irritating as in Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat pray love. Choosing the third person singular was also an interesting choice instead of the first person because we could look at things from outside as well.
I don't think I will go into any more details so as not to spoil it. It was funny and I couldn't help reading it. I read it on the bus, the tram, the train, even walking home, and in the bath. It was just the book I needed now, and it also made me want to go to Ireland and sea the sea, the cliffs, and the huge green fields. And it triggered lots of thoughts. I started to ponder a lot of things, like how would I feel in a similar situation, who would support me, what I would do, lots and lots, really. For example, I came up with the solution that I'd listen to Janis Joplin, Diana Krall, Leonard Cohen, Nina Simone, and Norah Jones, drink lots of tea and wine (and whine), and eat stupid things like heaps of chocolate. And these are practically the things I always do, I listen to them when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when it's cold outside, when I must carry on, whatever. As to who would support me I'm not sure, perhaps even my (would be) sisters-in-law would call in and once in a life I would open up to them. I really don't know.
When I was down after being dumped I listened to music a lot, once I went out with one of my university friends, ate fried pine apples, and watched the movie Crash. There was another time when I got drunk with a high school friend, spent the evening swearing and scolding "the bastard," and finally threw up if I remember correctly. There was a night when I kept reading One Hundred Years of Solitude like a madman madwoman just to keep my mind off the subject, and to be honest I don't remember much of the book. Oh, and I can recall one more, when I changed schools and sort of ended my "relationship" with my first love. You see, I was 12 at the time and he was 11, and most of what we did was sitting next to each other in solfeggio classes and walking home together after class until the crossing, but it was worth a million billion stars and I had already imagined signing my name with his surname. So when we sort of broke up, which was only due to my changing schools, I kept watching the last episode of Esmeralda and whining over it for days, stupid as it sounds. Then somewhere around September or October I "fell in love" with the nicest guy in my new class, and it had kept going on ever since, until the time I met my "current" boyfriend and most likely future husband (though I have had a few crushes in the meantime like I always do).

P.S. Have I told you my bestest little high school friend is gonna get married next summer, and I'm gonna be her maid of honor? I'm just so excited over it. She's really the one whom I want it to be perfect, who is supposed to be my maid of honor, the godmother of my children, and my gossip partner till the day we die.
P.P.S. It was only yesterday I realized Mö also had had brain tumor and felt like crying at the guilty feeling that this year I forgot his birthday. I mean I did thought of it a few days beforehand but not that day. I feel I should have remembered it somehow. Or maybe I should let him go. I still dream about him sometimes and wonder why he's not here any more, just like I do think of my grandparents, and I'd like to think that they see me and know that I haven't forgotten them. Or have I?