Don't go away

Hi, I think I don't like the book, I love it. I had told you it's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Haven't finished yet, but I've cried a lot already. didn't expect it would be so sad. I really really cried, because both the story is soo sad, and another tears fell for no reason. there had to be a reason, but like on this book, he said:

'Who said there had to be a reason?'
'No one did, exactly.'
'My question was rhetorical.'
'What's that mean?'
'It means I wasn't asking it for an answer, but to make a point.'
'What point?'
'That there doesn't have to be a reason.'

I don't want to discuss more about crying for no reason, anyway.

so, I just want to tell you some (another) parts that I love:

1.

She was extending a hand that I didn't know how to take, so I broke its fingers with my silence, she said, 'You don't want to talk to me, do you?' I took my daybook out of my knapsack and found the next blank page, the second to last. 'I don't speak,' I wrote. 'I'm sorry.' She looked at the piece of paper, then at me, then back at the piece of paper, she covered her eyes with her hands and cried, tears seeped between her fingers and collected in the little webs, she cried and cried and cried, there weren't any napkins nearby, so I ripped the page from the book – 'I don't speak. I'm sorry.' – and used it to dry her cheeks, my explanation and apology ran down her face like mascara, she took my pen from me and wrote on the next blank page of my daybook, the final one:
Please marry me

I love this part, even though I don't really understand when it is. obviously, it's his future. I'll get into that. but I just cried when he used the page to wiped her tears. and she said "please marry me". weird, but I think it's beautiful. in a weird way.

2.

In bed that night I invented a special drain that would be underneath every pillow in New York, and would connect to the reservoir. Whenever people cried themselves to sleep, the tears would all go to the same place, and in the morning the weatherman could report if the water level of the Reservoir of Tears had gone up or down, and you could know if New York was in heavy boots.

 yes, I like his idea, because I cried to sleep, a lot. (ok, it's a secret between you and I)

3. 

Even though the volume was way down, so Dad's voice wouldn't wake Mom, he still filled the room, like how a light fills a room even when it's dim.

:')

4. He talking to his Grandma with walkie-talkie! how cool is thaat.

but the sad part coming up:

Grandma lives in the building across the street. We're on the fifth floor and she's on the third, but you can't really tell the difference. Sometimes she'll write notes for me on her window, which I can see through my binoculars, and once Dad and I spent a whole afternoon trying to design a paper airplane that we could throw from our apartment into hers. Stan stood in the street, collecting all of the failed attempts. I remember one of the notes she wrote right after Dad died was 'Don't go away.'

5.

'Grandma? Over.'
'Yes? Over.'
'Why are matches so short? Over.'
'What do you mean? Over.'
'Well, they always seem to run out. Everyone's always rushing at the end, and sometimes even burning their fingers. Over.'
'I'm not very smart,' she said, insulting herself like she always does before she gives an opinion, 'but I think the matches are short so they can fit in your pocket. Over.'
'Yeah,' I said, balancing my chin on my hand, and my elbow on the windowsill. 'I think that, too. So what if pockets were a lot bigger? Over.'
'Well, what do I know, but I think the people might have a hard time reaching the bottoms of them if they went much lower. Over.'
'Right,' I said, switching hands, because that one was getting tired, 'so what about a portable pocket? Over.'
'A portable pocket? Over.'
'Yeah. It would be sort of like a sock, but with a Velcro outside, so you could attach it to anything. It's not quite a bag, because it actually becomes part of what you're wearing, but it's not quite a pocket either, because it's on the outside of your clothes, and also you can remove it, which would have all sorts of advantages, like how you could move things from one outfit to another easily, and how you could carry bigger things around, since you can take the pocket off and reach your arm all the way in. Over.' She put her hand against the part of her nightgown that covered her heart and said, 'That sounds like one hundred dollars. Over.'
'A portable pocket would prevent a lot of finger burns from short matches,' I said, 'but also a lot of dry lips from short ChapSticks. And why are candy bars so short, anyway? I mean, have you ever finished a candy bar and not wanted more? Over.'
'I can't eat chocolate,' she said, 'but I understand what you're telling me. Over.'
'You could have longer combs, so your part could be all the way straight, and bigger mencils – '
'Mencils?'
'Pencils for men.'