Tommy's Book | A Grief Journey

I already told you what Tommy's Book meant to me years ago, and how much I believed in dad's writing. I was so obsessed with recovering the documents and getting it safely onto my computer that I hadn't really thought about it's contents. Tommy's Book was a way to be close to day, associated with so many feelings and memories.

I'd remembered reading it and loving the characters. I saw myself and my siblings in each of the children. I remember reading it quickly and sobbing through the end. But I'd kinda forgotten - or just hadn't really processed - what it was about. It's almost as if my brain wasn't ready to process it. So I blocked it all out until the moment I opened the book and all at once, it came flooding back.

On a cold Wintery Sunday afternoon, I lit my candles and christmas lights, brewed myself some chamomile lavender tea, and put on a cozy lofi station. When I was situated on the couch with a cozy blanket and my emotional support animals, I opened the document on my kindle scribe. Sorrow. Pride. Anticipation.

Tommy's Book by Daren Falter. The copyright was from 2017, the last year he really worked on it. I wondered what year the most recent draft was written.

Dad's emotional, inspiring writing. I was so excited, so ready to devour it. To feel close to him. To finish and polish, wherever I could. I turned to the first page and started reading, pen at the ready.

After the first sentence, I literally gasped and then froze. The memory of what the book was about came flooding back. My body felt heavy and cold. I had to stop and take a minute to breathe.

How did I forget. Inspired by a good family friend, Tommy's Book is about a military family. A story about their father, military hero, who is killed in Iraq. A story about a little girl Angie, and her younger brothers Josh and Tommy.

Tommy's Book - the gift dad left me - is a book written from the perspective of a little girl, who has just found out her dad has died. It is a book about the gifts he left them, and the love he expressed during his life and beyond.

Can you believe it? That THIS is the book he left me?

After the initial shock of remembering, I started reading the chapter. I didn't get very far, deciding not to push it when the grief and sorrow blurred my eyes enough to make reading inconvenient. (Ever since then, I have been more careful to be prepared emotionally before I pick up my kindle to read - I was NOT prepared this first time).

Before I began, I felt it would be healing to work on this project. I imagined this picture-perfect process of adding little bits here and there, polishing up his work, and take it to the finish line. A little piece of his legacy, preserved for his grandchildren.

But I never imagined the extent to which I could contribute to the content of his book.

I never imagined I would have to relive the fresh experience of hearing the unexpected news of my dad's death, in order to access the right words to express Angie's shock.

I couldn't have predicted that attending my dad's funeral would give me a perfect understanding of what it's like seeing the casket for the first time.

Intimate firsthand experience. Dad gave that to me as well, I suppose, in a twisted, messed up way. His death has given me the experience I need to contribute to his work. In return, his words is the gift I need to heal from his death.

We've always both loved stories that highlighted tragic irony. I guess this is what it feels like to be in one.

Dad, we made it. Nice.

While there is healing, there is also incredible pain and sorrow. The process is slow, intentionally so. I'm taking my time. And providing space for all of it. The hardest scene to read so far? The casket scene. I'll share about that experience more next time.