My favorite thing about this book is it shows how messy grief is. Grief is not a neat package of sadness -> anger -> acceptance, or however many stages there might be. Grief is disgusting, indulgent, and (occasionally) violent. This book shows that - from the cursing to the despondency to the piss and shit. And it's interwoven with absolutely heartrending statements on what it is to lose someone and the mess they leave behind. As stated early on in the book, it's an apartment of "no-longer hers", and it doesn't have the care that comes with slow illness.

Now what? I'm just supposed to go on with my day? Crow would laugh at that but also agree - both in literal and in intent.