I'm communing with the late Caroline Knapp today. I've pulled her books from the shelf [two of them are actually under my alarm clock] and am in my chair by the window rereading my favorite passages from Pack of Two, Appetites, The Merry Recluse, and Drinking, A Love Story. And feeling sad that this incredibly gifted writer died way too young at 42. Her struggles to recover from anorexia and alcoholism become so much more poignant when read knowing what I know, that Death is just ahead. I feel her mortality, and my own, more significantly. Life is short, we must reach out, get help. Though I sympathize with those particular challenges, I can more specifically relate to her questions about loneliness and lifestyle choices: her wonderings about how much time alone is too much, how much love for one's dog is too much, how does one know they're living their life the "right" way, especially when it looks different from everyone else's. These can be painful and confusing feelings and Knapp gave them the most tender and eloquent voice. In sharing her weaknesses she became strong, and I know I'm not the other one who read her work gratefully thinking they'd found a kindred spirit. I know now I'm not the only one, period. I am most thankful for what she was able to articulate while she was with us, and she is much missed.
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