No One Can Write Like Cheryl Strayed.

Grief Doesn't Have A Plot. It Isn't Smooth. There Is No Beginning And Middle And End.

In My Adult Life, I Had Spent A Lot Of Time Angry At God, Mostly Over The Sudden Deaths In My Family - My Brother At 30, My Daughter At 5.

A Sibling Is The Lens Through Which You See Your Childhood.

Time Passes And I Am Still Not Through It. Grief Isn't Something You Get Over. You Live With It. You Go On On With It Lodged In You. Sometimes I Feel Like I Have Swallowed A Pile Of Stones. Grief Makes Me Heavy. It Makes Me Slow. Even On Days When I Laugh A Lot, Or Dance, Or Finish A Project, Or Meet A Deadline, Or Celebrate, Or Make Love, It Is There. Lodged Deep Inside Of Me.

No One Can Write Like Cheryl Strayed.