Loretta
Two major events transpired since our first publication of this book.
First off, I finally met Suzy.
We hugged. We brought sunflowers. We went out to lunch and got to know each other in the real flesh and blood. Like Rita and Glory, we ran for each other, tugged on each other, made sure the other was real. It was, just as in the book, totally and completely glorious.
The second event was the opposite of that. On a bright Saturday morning in May of 2016, my husband, Tom, my Sal, left to play a round of golf and never came home. He died of a sudden massive heart attack at the age of forty-five, right after telling his buddies a joke. He was gone before I got to him. Like Rita, I never had the chance to say goodbye.
My friends and family provided a lifeline that got me through that dark, dark time. Also, in some strange cosmic way, Rita pulled me through as well, her experience suddenly becoming my own, her wisdom reminding me that the only way to honor the dead is to continue living.
While I was writing her story, had I understood, on some unconscious level, how much the future me would find comfort in those words as I grieved? I’ll never know. What is clear to me, however, is that making sense of loss is not a process best done alone. My wish for everyone who reads this book is that when it’s your time to reach a hand out, there is a loving friend to grasp it.
Suzanne
It is hard to revisit the person I was when Loretta and I were writing these letters to each other. I was unhappy, lost and desperate for something I couldn’t put my finger on. The only thing that took my mind off myself during those years, besides my beautiful daughters, was the words that floated out from my fingertips onto the serene white pages waiting for me late at night. I was very alone and the friendship I was forging with Rita through Glory was incredibly real and life affirming.
Six years and five more books have passed since this labor of love was first published. Two of those years were very dark. Like Glory, I was running against time. Trying to hold on to all the romantic notions of what I’d thought my life would look like when I was young. I thought that becoming an author would mend some existential tear in my life. I didn’t have any idea of what I wanted, or who I was. Beyond being a mother (again, much like Glory), I didn’t know a thing about myself.
I had to face losing everything in order to make things right. Over the summer of 2015 I was confronted with two life events that forced me to look inward. My grandmother died, and after years of disquiet, I thought my marriage was over. Faced with this new reality and scared beyond reason, I reached out for anything stable to lean on. It was then that I realized, almost too late, that everything I’d ever needed or wanted was right there in front of me. A cliché, to be sure. But the absolute truth.
Looking back, and reading through the pages of this book, I’m astounded at the parallels in our journeys. Glory and I grew up together, it seems. And I’m so grateful for it.
Today I live in a place of love and light and peace. I found it by reinvesting in my family, my career as an educator and in a renewed devotion to my faith. I haven’t written much in the past few years, but I think I will again someday. Maybe Loretta will have a go at it again. What say you, L?