Will I love Notes on Grief?

Even though Adichie’s father did not die from COVID, it happened during the pandemic when the world shut down. To this, I could relate all too well.

I spent the pandemic, and months afterward, grieving my father’s death, and I found comfort reading the stories of other daughters whose dads have died. 

I loved this book for its intimacy and compactness. It’s less than 100 pages long, and yet Adichie manages to contain so poignantly the splintered pieces of herself that must be sorted after her father dies 5500 miles away, completely out of her reach from where she’s locked down during Covid.

I recognized myself in Adichie’s efforts to find language for what is so often unspeakable, including something as seemingly simple as what verb tenses to use after someone dies; to describe the pain as it inhabits her body in unexpected ways; to reconcile the moments of laughter that then… show more.

I admire the author's ability to write about the conflicting mesh of emotions she had to cope with after her father's unexpected demise. After losing my mother in 2021, I realized that grief isn't a linear process. Instead, it often felt like I was navigating unfamiliar terrain without a roadmap.

Adichie's memoir helped me understand that grief is a “cruel kind of education,” and we need to equip ourselves for it by having more meaningful conversations about death. Notes on Grief also encouraged me to view grief as an opportunity for self-reflection and spiritual growth.

This book dives in head-first to the concepts of sudden loss.

When you lose someone, it can never be explained as easy – but losing someone when you had no idea they would be gone so soon is the least easy way to watch them go. This book shows how many of us are connected by grief and loss, and how important conversation and connection are for the sake of getting better.

Plus, the book is in relation to loss during the COVID-19 pandemic, adding another layer of relatability to thousands of people.