Mary Ann Schaeffer, Annie Burrows. The book club and pies out of potato peelings (№ 169818)

When my son.... died... the people who came to condole, comforted me with the words: "Life goes on". What nonsense, I thought. On the contrary - the death continues. Ian is dead now and will be dead tomorrow. And next year, and forever. His death will not end. But probably will end sorrow. Sadness has swept the world like a biblical flood, she needs time to subside. Notice, little by little mending tiny Islands - what? Hope? Happiness? Something like that.