Tommy's Book | Editing The Funeral

One time, I questioned dad's decision to write the book from Angie's perspective.

Me: Why not Tommy? It's literally called Tommy's Book.. So why Angie?

Dad: I don't know why. I honestly feel a little bit embarrassed by it. It feels weird telling people that it's 'written from a 13 year old girl's perspective'. But every time I get away from Angie's voice, it falls apart.

I found it so interesting that he never fully understood why he connected so much with Angie, and why it was her perspective he had to write from. But dad always wrote from inspiration and from his heart.

God, looking back now it seems like divine inspiration. Like this book was mean for me all along...

Dad's Blessing

Let's be honest, I am pretty brutal when it comes to my pen. I slash and hack my own writing moments after I write it. I leave notes in the margins of my favorite authors with commentary and suggestions. I can't help it. It's my process.

Tommy's Book is no exception. My scrawling notes are in the margins of each pages as I read. I chose to do a complete read through before I commit to any changes. To change anything dad wrote feels heavy. I don't take it lightly.

I'm reminded that in 2016, I came running into his room after finishing the first draft, and with tears in my eyes, expressed how much I loved every part. In the same breath, I told him the ending was all wrong, and begged him to consider a few adjustments. He listened in silents for a few minutes.

"You're right", he smiled. He then kicked me out of his office, opening his laptop and settling in.

Dad was never so committed to his vision that he can't see any room for improvement. It's one of the many things I adore about my father. So as I read, tears in my eyes, I'm not shy cross things out and scribble in the margins. I have his blessing. I know this.

But boy, do I wish he could see what I'm adding. That we could have just one more conversation about the ending...

Editing the Casket & Funeral Scenes

I came to a chapter, not too far into the book, that made me pause.

Angie getting ready for dad's funeral. Angie, seeing the casket for the first time. Angie, worried about Josh and Tommy while they sat in pews to honor their dad.

Dad had written a powerful, descriptive chapter. But he was unable to fully capture what Angie would have felt in those moments. Dad is survived by his mom and dad, meaning he had never experienced the loss of a parent. But I have. I have felt the shock, I've experienced the purest form of sympathy and love for my siblings, and the life-altering moment when you have to surrender to the truth.

I tried to continue reading past that chapter, telling myself not to make change to the document, just take notes. But I couldn't. There wasn't enough margin space for everything I needed to add. My mind was fixated on getting this scene right. After all, it had been less than a handful of weeks since I walked into a cold room with a wood box, the what remained of my father inside.

I opened the document on my computer and made a copy, labeled "Tommy's Book - BK edit". Then I found the chapter and started from the beginning. I walked side by side with Angie through the scene, reliving my own experience. Putting some of myself onto the paper.

And while Angie's dad was killed in a war, and mine a car accident, for the first time I had something real to add to her story. Something my dad could never write. As I reread my work, an hour later, I breathed in. As I let it go, I sent a prayer that dad would accept the changes and be proud of our work. Then I cried, and cried, and cried.

After It took a few weeks to go back to Tommy's Book, since that day. It takes a lot out of me, and I'm not always in a place emotionally to reawaken my deepest grief. But certainly, I have learned that there are miracles in the heartbreak. There is healing in creating art from loss. The process of editing Tommy's Book is, in a word, wonderful. And I am not eager to finish quickly.

Love, Brooklyn