Review: Something I Might Say

Grief is a Beast That Craves Control
​Review: Something I Might Say

Courtney R. Hall

Stephanie Austin
Creative Nonfiction Essays
WTAW Press, pp. 60
Cost: $12.95 (trade paperback)

As a fellow member of the Dead Parent Club™, Stephanie Austin’s Something I Might Say caught my attention because it made me want to compare notes on grief. In this brief collection of nonfiction essays describing an even more brief portion of Austin’s life, she explores the many layers of grief that overwhelmed her in just a few months' time due to back to back losses in her family. If you have experienced significant loss in your life and yearn for someone who can genuinely empathize, not just sympathize, then this collection of bite sized essays is for you.

​The first half of the collection focuses on the decline and passing of Austin’s father, a man who left lasting scars on Austin starting in early childhood, and who gave half-hearted side hugs at best. His illness was a slow decline and not a surprise; he had been a heavy drinker, smoker, and unwilling participant in his own health journey. The candid retelling of this portion of Austin’s life correlates to the strained and difficult relationship she shared with her father. The syntax in this first half is rather direct and concise, with humor peppered in throughout—a subtle cue to the audience that humor is often more accessible than vulnerability. This tactful blending of comedy and tragedy is not only a testament to Austin’s skill as a writer, but also highlights her effortless ability to evoke a range of emotions from a single scene. After recalling a particular childhood memory that haunts her to this day, she says, “New drinking game: Every time your dad destroys your self-esteem, take a shot,” (3).

The essays that speak to her father are written matter-of-factly, with a distant voice rather than one in emotional turmoil. While Austin can be direct in expressing her feelings, as evident when she states, “This is what I know. My father is dead. I am alive. He needed me at the end. I needed him my whole life,” (16), the true pulse of her emotions often lies between the lines, intertwined with the memories and reflections she calls upon. There is little emotion in the words about her father because they mirror the little emotion in the words they said to each other. While the passing of her father is undeniably a traumatic experience in her life, it seems that much of Austin’s grief lies in the things left unsaid and unchanged between them in the end. This is why Austin tells us all of the things she felt like she couldn’t tell him.

“This is what I know. My father is dead. I am alive. He needed me at the end. I needed him my whole life.”

It is in the second half of the collection where we see the flip side of Austin. As the family member who shared the closest bond with her grandmother (her mother’s mother), she believed it was her responsibility to have the same level of control over her grandmother’s end-of-life care as she did with her father's. But she wasn’t, and we see her once seemingly cool, calm, and collected facade start to crumble. The voice shifts in this portion of the collection. In the first half, there is an air to the curtness in Austin's words that can be attributed to a strained and concise relationship. In this portion pertaining to her grandmother, it seems that Austin's sentences become succinct when she is most emotional. The brevity in her words reminds me of someone being short because they will cry if they keep going. “My relationship with Grandma Sis had meaning. My dad was a person. My grandma was my person. The person I went to. Had gone to. I was hysterical, (45).” Austin was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions during this time of her life, and it’s evident in her words, especially when juxtaposed with the essays pertaining to her father. ​

"My relationship with Grandma Sis had meaning. My dad was a person. My grandma was my person. The person I went to. Had gone to. I was hysterical."

​To no one’s surprise, I underlined and highlighted a considerable amount of lines in this collection. One that stood out to me in particular as I scanned through them once more, one that I feel is the heart and essence of this collection, is “I need to cry so hard I touch my own death and only then can I heal” (59). On its surface, this collection is the story of a woman who lost her emotionally unavailable father and her emotionally supportive grandmother just months apart from one another, all the while contending with the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic during the progression of the latter. But for those that have been paid a visit by the abominable beast we call grief, we can tap into the emotional well that is this collection and explore what is written between the lines. Austin’s voice is one that is accessible and relatable because it is one that is seemingly struggling with the collapse of their personal world, all the while the world around them is shifting, and the floor is falling out from underneath them. Something I Might Say is a testament to sitting in your feelings and moving forward in a way that works best for you, in a culture that often encourages you to “suck it up” and hide your grief.