“You don’t have to say you love me: A memoir” by Sherman J. Alexie Jr. is a beautifully poetic journey through the human experience of grief.

When Alexie’s mother died at the age of 78, he responded with a walk-through-the-woods of their relationship in this rhythmic tome.

The verses in this book often seem composed for the ear rather than the mind. (Which also makes it a marvelous audio book, read by the author.) This entire collection features over 80 essays and 80 poems connecting their intimate family dynamics, all of which are very relevant and relatable to our modern times.

These stories and poems are deliberately enraged, inflated and even redundant at times. He is a writer who will use words over and over to make his point and help one understand the powerful details. The entire book is rhythmic like a consistent drum beat or bass chord.

Alexie is an award-winning, prolific author known for lavish and detailed storytelling of real life struggles. He was raised on the Spokane Indian Reservation in rural Washington State. Much of his writing draws on his experiences as a modern Indian, but is also very relatable to everyone’s life wisdom and blessings.

In this memoir I connected directly to Sherman’s unabashed honesty regarding the trials of supporting aging parents and family. He is unembarrassed by the realities of his abusive and complicated parents and his role in this persona. He is honest with his audience and connects you to your personal grief.

In a way, he systematically approaches each stage of grief to build the storyline and connect all these stories together in this book. It will probably make you laugh out loud and cry a bit too. One will understand his journey, since we all go through these times.

Alexie’s mother seemed to be a bold personality and a heartbroken realist. She was an excessive quilter, often telling her own stories through the many hours and much blood which made up her quilts. She had her manner and fought hard for her family. She doled out punishments and protected in equal measure.

And as a storyteller, or as Sherman harshly expresses — a pathological liar — she embellished her own life to such a degree that her family never really knew when she was being honest.

I felt connected to the author in a manner I had not experienced from his previous works. His most popular of which are stories of life on the reservation and suffering from debilitating disabilities at a young age. Even though we were raised in very different environments, on the complete opposite ends of this fantastically diverse country, I know him better after reading this memoir.

If you want to connect deeply to your next read this is the book for you!