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What can I say about this short, heart-breaking memoir? For any mother with young children to willingly delve into this book is an act of bravery, because Deraniyagala describes unflinchingly her own loss, and (for me, at least), it was impossible not to empathize and imagine this same type of tragedy being visited upon my precious family. Two things were salient to me as I read this book. One was how materially privileged Deraniyagala must have been; for she was able to hide out in mourning for months and months, even leaving her London home unlived in, untouched, un-rented for four years before she could bring herself to visit it. Most people would have to return to their homes and live in them and pay bills and other mundane things, despite such heart-rending loss. The other thing that stuck with me strongly was how much I wanted her to move on--- not to forget her husband and children, but to open herself to life again, to move forward, to make space to love other people. It doesn't seem as if she has.