Opinion | I Wrote a Memoir About Grief. That Was the Beginning.

These letters were different. These were sent after I published a memoir about losing a friend to suicide. None of their authors wanted anything. No coffee dates, no contacts, no advice. They were flares. Missives of grief sent by envelope as well as email, containing pages of pure loss. Many came offering further reading: obituaries, that saddest of attached documents. There were stories of lost parents, siblings and friends.

At one point, I was getting about eight letters and emails a day. I am not the sort of author who writes with the intention of helping people. So eight is a lot. That number is not a measurement of the book's success. It's a measurement of our need to unburden ourselves about loss, about suicide in particular, and our struggle about how to do it in a way that feels honest and useful.

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