When Barbara Abercrombie's husband died, she found the language of condolence, no matter how well intended, irritating. "My husband had not gone to a better place, as if he were on a holiday. He had not passed, like clouds overhead. He wasn't my late husband, as if he'd missed a train. And I had not lost him, as if I'd been careless." She yearned instead for words that acknowledged the reality of death, that spoke about the unfathomable sorrow and loneliness (and perhaps even guilt and anger), and that might even point the way toward hope and healing. She found those words in the writings gathered here. The prose and poetry in The Language of Loss follows an arc that mirrors the path of many mourners -- from abject loss and feeling unmoored, to glimmers of promise and possibility, through to gratitude for the love they knew. C.S. Lewis wrote, "We read to know that we're not alone." These writings, which express what often feels ineffable, will accompany those who grieve, offering understanding and solace.
