"Get up," Izzie ordered, standing in front of the young girl who was sitting on the bench. "I mean it, get up. Get up. Now go get a life."
"I can't," Amanda said softly.
"George was a surgeon," Izzie told her. "He had a purpose, he wanted to save lives and now he doesn't get the chance. Now he doesn't get the chance to do anything anymore. You do. You could go to medical school, you know. You could hang out with your freaking friends, I don't care what you do. Just go do something with your life because you have one. You lived. You lived and George didn't and I know... I know... I know that feels horrible and shocking and terrifying but you lived. So go live your freaking life."
"I don't know how," the other girl replied meekly.
"Nobody does. Nobody knows how. But God, have enough respect for George to figure it out because if I ever see you sitting on this bench again I will kick your ass from here to Sunday," Izzie snapped, turning on her heel and storming away.