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As a motherless non-mother, I didn’t expect to identify this much with a memoir about raising a sick child, about the impossible choices parenting requires, about having to hold fear and hope in the same hand. But the writing is so blazingly good, true, and precise, that sentence after sentence had me nodding with recognition: Yes, I know this exactly. Heather Harpham is a writer of such ability and intelligence that her struggle becomes your struggle; her revelation about the true state of happiness becomes your revelation. Hearing it in her own voice only makes that connection more personal.
8 of 8 people found this review helpful
This author, in my book, (no pun intended) has one of the most forgiving hearts. I admire that immensely! That she totally owns her shortcomings in every facet of her life is something most of us never even think of. Not without years of therapy anyway.
The delivery in words and tone made this journey very easy to hear, as painful as it was. I found myself avoiding germs and then catching myself. My heart felt like boiled mash at times. I celebrated out loud during the joyful parts. I cried silent, ugly tears over losses.
This book is for anyone, especially parents or loved ones, experiencing a long battle with severely ill children. Or for anyone like me-who loves a story told by a narrator who can deliver such a moving story in a gentle, but matter-of-fact manner.
I loved the story so much that I hated for it to end. I'm hoping there will be a sequel of everyday experiences about this family.
4 of 4 people found this review helpful