Cheshire recounts the emotional aftermath of her mother’s death from pancreatic cancer.
Cartoonist Cheshire’s life was upended when her mother was diagnosed with late-stage pancreatic cancer. In her graphic memoir, she chronicles the five stages of grief after her mother’s passing. Central to the story, which sets the tone from the first sentence (“I get that death isn’t a tasty dish for anyone”), is the metaphor that mourning is “a jigsaw puzzle where pointless pieces inexplicably appear.” Cheshire draws readers into her shifting emotional landscape where anger, numbness, guilt, and love all mixed. Each chapter builds on the last, chronicling an evolving process, from the early days of shock and denial to an uneasy acceptance. Despite the weighty subject matter, the book is often light (“You’re looking beyond grim, kiddo”), injecting humor into an account of Cheshire’s losing “one of the most important people in my life.” The artwork swirls with feeling, conveying the personalities of Cheshire and her mother, Mari Carmen, along with the infuriating and depressing experience of watching a parent get sicker. The design choices—simple panels, shifting frames, and symbolic motifs—create a visual rhythm that mirrors the disorientation of grief, which can swing from heartbreaking to funny (“Mari Carmen was full of life. Pun not intended”). This is a moving, endearing tale, rendered more immediate by the author’s depictions of her mother holding, praising, and arguing with her; working as an ER nurse; or volunteering at the dog shelter. Throughout, the memoir avoids sentimentality as it depicts destabilizing loss (“The only times that came to mind were when we fought. Something we did a ton of”) and tells a story that lingers long after the final page.
An affecting, witty graphic memoir filled with honesty and insight.