"The Love Of My Life," by Cheryl Strayed | The Sun Magazine
"SHE DIED ON a Monday during spring break of our senior year. After her funeral, I immediately went back to school because she had begged me to do so. It was the beginning of a new quarter. In most of my classes, we were asked to introduce ourselves and say what we had done over the break. “My name is Cheryl,” I said. “I went to Mexico.”
I lied not to protect myself, but because it would have been rude not to. To express loss on that level is to cross a boundary, to violate personal space, to impose emotion in a nonemotional place.”
One of my favorite essays, even though reading it is akin to getting punched in the gut, repeatedly. Get punched in the gut. Read this.