This is the best book I have ever read about death and grief. When she was 19 years old, the author's mother died of cancer. Now, at 30, the author writes the book she wishes she could have read about loving someone, watching them fall sicker and sicker, die, and then what comes next. The immediate things: a funeral, sitting shiva, going back to her sophomore year of college. But also the much later things- the grief and memories that still resurface at surprising moments even a decade later. Turning the age her mother was when the author was born- contemplating living to ages her mother never reached. I didn't cry once in 2020 as far as I can remember- if ever there was a year for tears, it was 2020, but crying has never been a way I regularly express emotions. But I cried through reading the last third of this book, despite the fact that I am lucky enough to have both my parents still living. This seems a poignant time and horribly relevant for a book of death and grief to be published. But I am so so glad that this book was released and I hope everyone who reads it (now, or in 10 years, or whenever they can stomach a book about grief) finds comfort here and can laugh and cry about it as much as I did.