A Quokka Dreeds its Weird

A short, heartfelt, sometimes unexpectedly funny, wrenching memoir about Delaney's son Henry, who died of cancer when he was two years old, and about his family in the time when Henry was there. It's about love and grief and joy; it's an incredible depiction of the early, intense kind of grief that feels like it's going to rip you apart; it's very beautiful. This is the kind of book where either you want to read it or you really, really don't. If you do, I recommend the audio read by Delaney.

There is no physical paradise where he’s waiting for me, and for that I’m glad. I have to imagine that would get boring after a couple of centuries, for him, for me. For you. Rather, I suspect I am a glass of water, and when I die, the contents of my glass will be poured into the same vast ocean that Henry’s glass was poured into, and we will mingle together forever. We won’t know who’s who. And you’ll get poured in there one day, too.