Written by: Alice Sebold
Plot Introduction provided in Wikipedia:
It's another death story told in a rather creative way (If you've read Mitch Albom's The Five People You Meet in Heaven you'de know what I mean). It's actually a poignant recount of the events that follow the death of a daughter/sister/friend/crush/schoolmate.
The story of a brutal death does not end when a body is found or a murderer served with a sentence. It lingers. Like the wringing sound of a pulled spring. Each reverberation echoes the pain felt by family members, friends, relatives and the whole community touched by the deceased.
Death means something to the dead as it does to the living. The letting go part is never easy. Painful, especially when death comes in a rather unexpected and brutal way. The father, not willingto move on, consumed by anger. The other daughter who just wanted to be seen for who she is and not whose sister she was. The younger brother who barely new what gone even meant. The mother, struggling and finally giving up on family life.
If I were to dream of my own heaven it would contain a placid lake with me floating on it. The wind caressing my cheeks giving me a little push while I move past beds of lilies and lotus. It would be eternally misty, as in early morning.
Plot Introduction provided in Wikipedia:
"In 1973, a 14-year-old girl named Susie Salmon is raped, murdered, and dismembered by a neighbor. Over the next few years she watches from a personalized heaven as her family and friends deal with their grief. She sometimes becomes angry and frustrated from the choices her family makes while looking over them."
It's another death story told in a rather creative way (If you've read Mitch Albom's The Five People You Meet in Heaven you'de know what I mean). It's actually a poignant recount of the events that follow the death of a daughter/sister/friend/crush/schoolmate.
The story of a brutal death does not end when a body is found or a murderer served with a sentence. It lingers. Like the wringing sound of a pulled spring. Each reverberation echoes the pain felt by family members, friends, relatives and the whole community touched by the deceased.
Death means something to the dead as it does to the living. The letting go part is never easy. Painful, especially when death comes in a rather unexpected and brutal way. The father, not willingto move on, consumed by anger. The other daughter who just wanted to be seen for who she is and not whose sister she was. The younger brother who barely new what gone even meant. The mother, struggling and finally giving up on family life.
If I were to dream of my own heaven it would contain a placid lake with me floating on it. The wind caressing my cheeks giving me a little push while I move past beds of lilies and lotus. It would be eternally misty, as in early morning.
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