How Virginia Woolf Taught Me to Mourn

“I couldn’t shake that crystalline, hyperaware feeling one gets on important occasions—on birthdays, for instance, or on losing one’s virginity. My father is dead, I said to myself, my father is dead. Again and again I said it, and still I failed to grasp what it meant.”

Source: LitHub
Published: Jan 25, 2019
Length: 9 minutes (2,400 words)
Read the story