Chapter 22: Grief, Love, and the Search for Closure at Gus’s Visitation

Chap­ter Twen­ty-Two opens with a somber scene at the Lit­er­al Heart of Jesus church, where Augus­tus “Gus” Waters lies in his cof­fin dur­ing his vis­i­ta­tion. The setting—marked by its exposed stone walls and rows of mourners—visually reflects the emo­tion­al void left by Gus’s death. As the pro­tag­o­nist walks into this space of shared grief, her inter­ac­tions with Gus’s par­ents reveal their pro­found heart­break, cap­tur­ing the uni­ver­sal pain of los­ing a loved one. Their drained demeanor and heart­felt words under­score the deep bond they share, one root­ed in their mutu­al love for Gus.

The protagonist’s emo­tion­al strug­gle becomes increas­ing­ly evi­dent as she approach­es Gus’s cof­fin. In a sym­bol­ic ges­ture, she tem­porar­i­ly removes her oxy­gen tube, a phys­i­cal rep­re­sen­ta­tion of her desire to momen­tar­i­ly bridge the gap between life and death to be clos­er to Gus. Her whis­pered words, “I love you present tense,” reveal her inabil­i­ty to ful­ly accept his pass­ing, cling­ing to the hope that he might some­how hear her. Plac­ing a pack of Camel Lights into his coffin—a poignant nod to their shared memories—serves as both a farewell and an acknowl­edg­ment of their bond, deep­en­ing the emo­tion­al weight of this moment.

Unlike tra­di­tion­al funer­al ser­vices, Gus’s vis­i­ta­tion becomes a mul­ti­fac­eted space where love, frus­tra­tion, and intro­spec­tion con­verge. The pro­tag­o­nist silent­ly grap­ples with the minister’s attempt to offer com­fort through sim­plis­tic plat­i­tudes about Gus’s new­found “whole­ness” in the after­life. These words, while well-inten­tioned, fail to res­onate with the depth of her loss, high­light­ing the inad­e­qua­cy of uni­ver­sal con­so­la­tions in the face of per­son­al grief.

The atmos­phere grows even more tense with the unex­pect­ed arrival of Peter Van Houten, the reclu­sive and cyn­i­cal author whose actions pre­vi­ous­ly caused anguish. His pres­ence dis­rupts the mourn­ing process, as his dis­mis­sive remarks stark­ly con­trast the gen­uine sor­row felt by those present. Moments of lev­i­ty, includ­ing anec­dotes from Isaac and one of Gus’s high school friends, pro­vide brief respites, yet the emo­tion­al under­tone remains heavy as the pro­tag­o­nist reflects on the inter­play of pain and joy dur­ing her heart­felt speech.

After the ser­vice, the sto­ry takes an intro­spec­tive turn as Van Houten seeks a ride with the protagonist’s fam­i­ly, stir­ring a mix of irri­ta­tion and dis­be­lief. His pres­ence reignites unre­solved ten­sions, cul­mi­nat­ing in a blunt rejec­tion of his offer to reveal the fate of a char­ac­ter from his novel—a sub­plot that once con­sumed the pro­tag­o­nist. In a poignant act of self-preser­va­tion, she choos­es to hold on to her mem­o­ries of Gus, pri­or­i­tiz­ing her per­son­al expe­ri­ences over Van Houten’s attempt to impose clo­sure through fic­tion.

This deci­sion high­lights the protagonist’s grow­ing under­stand­ing of grief and accep­tance. Rather than seek­ing exter­nal expla­na­tions or val­i­da­tions, she begins to real­ize the impor­tance of cher­ish­ing the mem­o­ries and love she shared with Gus. By reject­ing Van Houten’s nar­ra­tive, she asserts con­trol over her own mourn­ing process, demon­strat­ing the strength required to nav­i­gate such pro­found loss.

Chap­ter Twen­ty-Two poignant­ly explores the com­plex emo­tions tied to grief, love, and the search for clo­sure. The protagonist’s jour­ney through Gus’s vis­i­ta­tion cap­tures the raw inten­si­ty of los­ing some­one deeply cher­ished, bal­anc­ing moments of heart­break with reflec­tions on the endur­ing pow­er of love. Through her sym­bol­ic gestures—like remov­ing her oxy­gen tube and leav­ing the Camel Lights—she bridges the emo­tion­al dis­tance between her­self and Gus, show­cas­ing the intri­cate ways indi­vid­u­als attempt to process loss.

The pres­ence of Van Houten adds anoth­er lay­er to the chapter’s explo­ration of grief, con­trast­ing the sin­cer­i­ty of shared mourn­ing with the cyn­i­cism of some­one con­sumed by their own pain. This jux­ta­po­si­tion under­scores the var­ied ways peo­ple cope with loss, from gen­uine reflec­tion to attempts at deflec­tion or con­trol. The protagonist’s abil­i­ty to reject Van Houten’s intru­sion demon­strates her resilience and com­mit­ment to pre­serv­ing her authen­tic con­nec­tion with Gus.

The chap­ter ulti­mate­ly reflects on the endur­ing com­plex­i­ties of love and mem­o­ry in the face of death. Through her inter­ac­tions with Gus’s fam­i­ly and the con­fronta­tion with Van Houten, the pro­tag­o­nist begins to accept that clo­sure is not always a tidy res­o­lu­tion but rather a process of find­ing mean­ing in what remains. Her reflec­tions dur­ing the funer­al under­score the idea that grief is deeply per­son­al, shaped as much by love as by the absence of the one lost.

Chap­ter Twen­ty-Two cap­tures the uni­ver­sal strug­gle of grap­pling with death while hold­ing onto the beau­ty of life’s fleet­ing con­nec­tions. By blend­ing moments of shared sor­row, per­son­al intro­spec­tion, and acts of defi­ance, the chap­ter paints a vivid por­trait of nav­i­gat­ing loss. It reminds read­ers that while grief is inevitable, the mem­o­ries and love we car­ry for­ward pro­vide the strength to endure and hon­or the lives of those we hold dear.