How My Grandmother’s Death Made Me Love Myself Again by Amy Oestreicher will make you shudder and reflect. Not bad for these quarantine times. It exudes tenderness, nostalgia, grief and catharsis. The reader goes through all these stages to finally understand the magnitude childhood feelings and teachings attain in our lives no matter if we do or do not have the awareness and the truthfulness to recognize it. Amy Oestreicher does. In American writer Domnica Radulescu’s words the story is “so absolutely both heart wrenching and exquisite… And so powerful”. Indeed the threshold between fictional living and living fiction is so thin in How my Grandmother…that it stops being a preoccupation. The audience’s focus is displaced towards how to possibly digest the near-to-death experience regurgitating the concentration camp survival in such a short life span. In literature time shrinks and expands and everything is possible. Apparently, in life too. Amy Oestreicher teaches us as much.