In the piece, Oswalt gives a brief history of McNamara’s life as a writer and also shares a sweet anecdote involving their 7-year-old daughter, Alice: “Five days after Michelle was gone, Alice and I were half-awake at dawn, after a night of half-sleeping. Alice sat up in bed. Her face was silhouetted in the dawn light of the bedroom windows. I couldn’t see her expression,” Oswalt writes. “I just heard her voice: ‘When your mom dies you’re the best memory of her. Everything you do and say is a memory of her.'”
“She hasn’t left a void,” he says of McNamara. “She’s left a blast crater.”
Read Oswalt’s entire essay at Time.