When Emily died, relatively suddenly, aged 30 (I was 27), I coped with it as well as anyone could. In fact, I prided myself on how outwardly resilient I seemed: I spoke to a therapist, started a new job. Before I’d even processed the lyrics, the very sound of it released something in me. “If I didn’t know better / I’d think you were talking to me now,” sings Swift. But Marjorie did something I hadn’t managed in five years of therapists and packed diaries – it made me sit still with the grief I’d compressed for half a decade.

Source: The Guardian March 28, 2026 07:06 UTC