One of the most compelling threads in her body of work is her treatment of grief. She moves beyond the linear stages of loss and into something more fluid: grief as a companion, a teacher, a slow tide that reshapes the shoreline of the self. Her words offer no platitudes. Instead, she offers imagery—a hand on a windowpane, the particular quality of afternoon light in a room someone has left, the way silence can feel like a living thing. Through this, she performs a kind of alchemy: transforming private pain into a shared, almost sacred, language.