When my sister died, I lay down on the floor of my office and howled. My mother died just before Christmas last year. “I was looking,” she says, “at grief and complicated grief, and sibling relationship, and trauma.” It was only after her mother died that she felt set free to write it. Because it’s still only months since my mother died, her descriptions of her mother’s last days in hospital nearly finished me off. Since my mother died, I haven’t looked at photos or read any of her letters.

Source: The Guardian September 23, 2017 05:26 UTC