Dad's Gift to Me | Tommy's Book

It's been like something from a story, the things that have fallen into place since dad died. As if he knew. As if he'd prepared his whole life for the moment he'd have to leave us, his kids. By providing gifts. Pre-packaged miracles.

He never wanted to leave us. The way he fought his parkinson's every day was evidence of that. He planned for decades with his wife, with us.

Which makes it all the more wondrous.

His soul knew we'd a little extra magic when he was gone. Sparkles and glimmers of him, everywhere.

I guess when you live your life with so much light and abundance, it's bound to leave a traces.

In 2013, dad decided to write a novel Tommy's Book. In 2017, he finished it his first draft. Shortly after he finished it, he sent me to office depot to print it out. When I handed him the coil bound pages, he pushed it back into my hands. "It' for you".

We worked on it together, and I didn't take it easy on him. While I adored the story and loved his writing, I wrote pages of edits, suggestions and ideas. Call it payback for editing my stories throughout my life. I was afraid how he'd react to my suggestions, so I played it down, saying "it's perfect, but here's just a few recommendations, if you're interested".

He devoured my edits. Rejected some, but wholeheartedly agreed with MOST of what I had to say. I was proud of that. And while the story is 100% his, I am so proud to have contributed bits and pieces as well.

Note: I took this picture in 2017. I was carving pumpkins for halloween and dad plopped himself down to work through some of my extensive edits. I'm so blessed to have this picture, because we spent hours in this same posture that season. Sipping cocoa, talking through characters, word choices, and dialogue.

Years went by and he never published. I'd ask him often about it, but he said he never felt it was complete enough. It never felt right. Unpolished.

Last June (2024), just 5 months before his death, we sat together in a hot truck on our way to southern utah for a writers retreat, I asked him about Tommy's Book. His response was unchanged, "There's a lot of work to be done, I just never feel like it's ready. I'll get to it someday..."

"But it's so good, dad. I wish you'd just publish it as is. I'm sure it's amazing. I remember it being amazing, I cried like 12 times...and that was several drafts ago. I swear, I'm going to have to publish it myself when you're dead". I laughed. He laughed. Then he told me about the several books he'd been working on. I could tell he was much more excited about these. I rolled my eyes.

Then, 5 months later, a drunk driver took his life.

The day my brother Austin went to recover his computer to backup all the files, he called and asked, "is there anything you need me to find for you".

There was not a moment to question or hesitate, I just started begging. "I didn't know who to even ask about this, but I need someone to please, please find Tommy's Book! I don't have any idea when he worked on it last but it has to be on his computer files somewhere. Send me everything you can find related to it. Please, Austin, you have to find it".

"I will", he said with strained voice.

Within hours, I got a message from daddy - the last I ever received. The file folder was labeled "Tommy's Book". In it were documents of research, pictures he took of me and my little sister, for a tentative book cover idea, and his most recent draft.

I sobbed.

It felt like a miracle. Or perhaps magic. Maybe both.

Dad's parting gift to me, his unfinished, unpublished novel.

I have always wanted to help dad to publish the best version of his novel that was in him. I believed in him. I worked with him. I encouraged him. But he never thought it was ready.

Now that it is miraculously and safely in my hands, my parting gift to him will be to finish and publish it for him.

I have already felt him guiding my pen, and smiling over my shoulder as I write pages and pages of notes. And that is perhaps the greatest gift of all.

Daddy, I love you. I can't wait for your name to be big and bold on the cover of such an profound, emotional piece of work. I hope I can make you proud. But I know I already have. Thank you for always believing in my writing - it is what has sustained me during this project. Thank you for this gift - it has sustained me in my grief.

Love, Brooklyn (your co-author and editor extraordinaire)

PS. There's so much more to this story that I haven't shared. Like what the book is about and why it's actually insane...but it takes time for me to emotionally process. I'm living this journey, and it isn't always easy. So stay with me and I'll update as I feel ready.