Anne Rice Is Gone from the World
A piece of my soul left with her.
Tonight is one of those nights for me, as a writer, that is especially hard. I’ve had a glass or two of wine. I log into Facebook one last time for the evening just to scroll through. The very first thing I see on my feed is the announcement of the death of Anne Rice.
Ya’ll my heart dropped into my stomach.
Anne could have never known what she meant to me over the years. But, of course, her son, who posted the announcement to social media, also could never possibly understand what his mother truly meant to me. You see, she was someone I didn’t know, but also someone I knew intimately. My heart rarely aches so much at the news of someone’s passing. The death of a famous “stranger” has never hurt so much as this.
With her work, Anne shaped the writer that I would someday become. She also shaped the adult that I grew into. From the very first moments I spent reading her words, I heard a truth of the universe that my young adolescent mind couldn’t really comprehend.
Over the years, her stories have shaped my worldview. She taught me compassion for monsters. She also taught me how to see the bigger picture of creation. Every single novel helped me face my demons (and hers) in a way I could’ve never done otherwise.
