“When he dies, I fall out of time.”

Amy Lin never expected to find a love like the one she shares with her husband, Kurtis, a gifted young architect who pulls her toward joy, adventure, and greater self-acceptance. On a sweltering August morning, only a few months shy of the newlyweds’ move to Vancouver, thirty-two-year-old Kurtis heads out to run a half-marathon with Amy’s family. It’s the last time she sees her husband alive.

Ten days after this seismic loss, Amy is in the hospital, navigating her own shocking medical crisis and making life-or-death decisions about her treatment.

What follows is a rich and unflinchingly honest portrayal of her life with Kurtis, the vortex created by his death, and the ongoing struggle Amy faces as she attempts to understand her own experience in the context of commonly held “truths” about what the grieving process looks like.

Here After is an intimate story of deep love followed by dizzying loss; a memoir so finely etched that its power will remain with you long after the final page.

This book contains mentions of suicidal ideation.

Get an early look from the first pages of Here After.

I’m the kind of reader who treats “I cried” as a firm endorsement of a book. Based on Here After’s premise, it was perhaps foreseeable that I found myself unmoored and wet-faced upon finishing it. However, I could never have predicted how severely this book would gut me.

Amy Lin’s husband was just 32 when he died. They were happy, healthy, newly married, and deeply in love. Here After is Lin’s exploration of the aftermath of his death as much as it is a celebration of their courtship. We see Kurtis through Lin’s eyes—his contagious enthusiasm and zest for life—and feel her emptiness without him by her side.

Here After is gorgeously written in poetic vignettes. It is so emotionally raw you will be tempted to look away, but Lin’s utter lack of self-pity will keep you grounded, on the page, in the moment. This is one of the most affecting books I have ever read. It voices the deepest fears we all keep in the back of our minds: the knowledge that we cannot protect the ones we love, and that, someday, we will have to go on without them. So yes, I cried. But I also came away from this book grateful to be alive and grateful to be loved, and so will you.