My aunt sent me this article this morning: an account by Cheryl Strayed, author of Wild before she was the author of Wild, of losing her mother. I suggest you immediately put down whatever it is that you are doing and do this instead.
I’d only heard passingly about Wild; its prominent place on bookshelves in airport bookstores made me nervous that it might be merely The Secret by another name. How glad I am to have been so, so wrong. Strayed talks in raw terms about what it means to lose someone you cannot live without, about our need to somehow neutralize the unyielding reality that people who die do not come back, and about the fallacy of attempting to contain complexity in a single word. She talks about sex and the decisions that lead us to hurt the people we love and to cling to the people we don’t. As someone who continues to wear her mom’s wedding ring, I found Strayed’s account of wearing her mom’s wedding band, and later losing it, eerily familiar. Her account is intensely relatable, and ultimately uplifting, despite the fact that she expressly refuses to coddle or to cow to the pressure to wrap a bow on the end.
Guess I know what I’ll be reading next time I’m in the airport.
Full article: http://www.thesunmagazine.org/archives/2192?page=1