The Sinclairs respond to death and loss by denying them entirely, choosing to block painful memories rather than deal with them directly. In her search for answers about her mysterious accident, Cady explores the question of whether it would be easier to forget the past or to recognize and learn from it. While the Sinclair family adheres to the idea that “silence is a protective coating over pain,” Cady’s experience of recovering her memories demonstrates that the past can never really be forgotten or left behind. Through this transformative process, We Were Liars argues that it is necessary to truly experience the pain of loss in order to move past it.
The Sinclair family clearly represses its emotions following loss to its detriment; those who leave the Sinclair family, either through divorce or death, are almost immediately forgotten or simply purged from the family’s collective memory. When Cady’s father leaves her mother, the two women swiftly get rid of all of his gifts to them, as well as their furniture and decorations, starting over as if he had never existed. Cady does not understand why she isn’t allowed to mourn her parents’ separation—her mother even tells her not to cry—and would rather not shield herself from these authentic feelings. This erasure is much the same with the other Sinclair sisters. Their failed marriages are simply left behind as they spend summers on the island, not mentioning the men who once formed part of the family. This seems to be the coping mechanism built into the Sinclair family, giving them a selective memory of their lives and relationships. Even the death of Tipper, the family matriarch, is mourned only briefly. The Sinclair sisters seem to enter into an unspoken agreement to stop talking about Tipper, and the only person who brings her up in conversation is Gat. Gat is notably something of an outsider to the family and represents a kind of emotional openness that could lead to growth and healing, but that is completely foreign to the Sinclairs.
The deaths of Johnny, Gat, and Mirren become something of a family secret, as the family moves on from the tragedy in the same way they always have. Although they are not completely erased from the family history, the story of their deaths remains shrouded in mystery. After the fire, Harris Sinclair requests that there be no investigation, and does not talk about the incident. He sends Cady to Europe with her father the following summer, and builds a house he calls New Clairmont on the ashes of the old one. As with all of the other losses in his life, Harris ensures that he and his family move on as swiftly as possible. The fire and subsequent deaths become part of the mystery and legend of the Sinclair family, both vague and somewhat glamorous. Friends, neighbors, and acquaintances only know that the island caught fire, that a house burned down, and that three teenagers died. And as Cady notes, in death they “became more beautiful still in the eyes of their beholders,” which satisfies Harris Sinclair’s sense of family image. But for Cady, the deaths of Johnny, Mirren, and Gat are not glamorous at all, and as the sole survivor of the fire, she must live with the guilt and memories for the rest of her life. She spends the summer imagining their presence around her as a way of mourning their deaths and keeping herself from forgetting them.
When Cady wakes up in a hospital room one day, having suffered a terrible accident that she does not remember, she is determined to find out what happened. As she recreates a timeline of events, she also learns how memories can be both painful and cathartic, allowing her to finally heal in the end. In the days following her accident, Cady asks her mother what happened to her, and is frustrated when she gets no real answers. She writes down what she does remember, and then asks everyone in her family to help jog the rest of her memory. Cady believes that her family is keeping an important secret from her. Her cousins tell her that Penny has advised them not to talk about it with Cady and to let her memories come back on their own. Time and time again, she must confront her family’s inability to discuss the past and make themselves vulnerable to painful memories and feelings. Eventually, Cady’s memories do return to her, and she slowly begins to realize that the fire that burned down Clairmont also killed the other three Liars, leaving her alone. Her three companions have existed in her mind for the summer, and it is through her interactions with Johnny, Gat, and Mirren that she remembers what happened that night. This process is healing for her, as she is able to cry for the loss of her closest friends and—in her mind, at least—say goodbye to them and leave them behind peacefully.
Like the rest of the Sinclairs, Cady initially represses difficult memories. However, it is only when she begins to recover her memories and face them head-on by reliving the night of the fire, that Cady is able to mourn the loss and move on with her life.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Death, Loss, and Memory ThemeTracker
Death, Loss, and Memory Quotes in We Were Liars
I am nearly eighteen. I own a well-used library card and not much else, though it is true I live in a grand house full of expensive, useless objects. I used to be blond, but now my hair is black. I used to be strong, but now I am weak. I used to be pretty, but now I look sick.
Do you understand, Cady? Silence is a protective coating over pain.
I am not immune to the feeling of being viewed as a mystery, as a Sinclair, as part of a privileged clan of special people, and as part of a magical, important narrative, just because I am part of this clan.
“Beauty is a valid use,” Mummy argues. “It creates a sense of place, a sense of personal history. Pleasure, even, Cadence. Have you ever heard of pleasure?”
You began asking me the day you woke in the hospital. ‘What happened? What happened?’ I told you the truth, Cadence, I always did, and you’d repeat it back to me. But the next day you’d ask again.
“Cadence was the first, and it didn’t matter that she was a girl. I would give her everything. Just like a grandson. I carried her in my arms and danced. She was the future of our family.”
“I have a boyfriend named Drake Loggerhead,” says Mirren. “He’s going to Pomona like I am. We have had sexual intercourse quite a number of times, but always with protection. He brings me yellow roses every week and has nice muscles.”
A witch has been standing there behind me for some time, waiting for a moment of weakness. She holds an ivory statue of a goose. It is intricately carved. I turn and admire it only for a moment before she swings it with shocking force. It connects, crushing a hole in my forehead.
I wish I had her life. A boyfriend, plans, college in California. Mirren is going off into her sunshine future, whereas I am going back to Dickenson Academy to another year of snow and suffocation.
“Someone did something to me that is too awful to remember.”
Look. A fire. There on the southern tip of Beechwood Island. Where the maple tree stands over the wide lawn. The house is alight. The flames shoot high, brightening the sky.
Cadence Sinclair Eastman was present on the island at the time of the fire but did not notice it until it was well underway.
I cry for my aunts, who lost their firstborn children. For Will, who lost his brother. For Liberty, Bonnie, and Taft, who lost their sister. For Granddad, who saw not just his palace burn to the ground, but his grandchildren perish. For the dogs, the poor naughty dogs.
I love you in spite of my grief. Even though you are crazy. I love you in spite of what I suspect you have done.
“I want to be an accepting person, but I am so full of leftover rage. I imagined I’d be saintly and wise, but instead I’ve been jealous of you, mad at the rest of my family.”
