Schmidt: Okay, you know what? Here's my new scenario. [Cece groans] I'm in the Merchant Marines...
Cece: Stop it. I only blurted out "three years" because I don't even want to think about you being gone. I don't know what I would do without you. I would end up dragging a lawn chair out to your grave on the Fourth of July and lighting a sparkler, and Ruth wouldn't want to come with me because she would say "Mommy, Kevin's having a party, and I don't want to go to the grave again." Okay? So I'm just alone, on a chair, and I miss you.
Schmidt: I don't want you alone at my grave. That sounds terrible. I want you to be with your new husband at my grave. I want you to find someone who's gonna take care of you, who's gonna love you as much as I do.
Cece: I just want you.
Schmidt: Well, it's too late for that. I-I'm dead.
Cece: No.
Schmidt: It's a waste of time. I might as well be at the bottom of the ocean.
Cece: Stop.
Schmidt: You have to move on.