Why My Story Has to Be Told Now

I keep coming back to the original manuscript.

Sitting on a bench in my bedroom, the sun kissing my face, warming my heart. The pages of the first draft of My Dearest Children sitting in my lap. 

I’m pretending that I’m reading it, but really I’m not. I’m staining the pages with my tears, staring at the words without really taking them in. I’m turning the pages, I’m fixating on words, but they are not the typed words in the middle of the page. They’re his notes in the margins. 

I know if I actually read my words I would find comfort in them. But the handwritten scrawl with his familiar penmanship distracts me. The sticky notes he left me on so many of the pages draw me in and keep me thirsting for more. I guess it’s normal to thirst when it seems no tears could possibly be left inside me.

I force myself to read. 

How is it possible that my words could be speaking to me? 

They were written for my children and their children. I guess a part of me knew that my inner child would one day need to read these words.

My words and my father’s written addendums become the medicine I never knew I would need to help me process his death. 

His attention to detail of my phrasing, the way certain lines had to be pushed a little further, or softened, or clarified. 

Each of the markings on each of the pages are a living testament to who my dad was, to his personality, to his perfectionism. To his approval. They hug me.

Sitting with the original manuscript feels like I'm sitting with him. Like he’s speaking to me. 

My emotions are so layered, so raw. 

It’s hard to separate my story from his in this moment. My grandparents’ story is tangled up in there too. 

My new experiences since he died don’t belong in this book. 

My dad’s presence is woven through each marking of his pen. 

This story must be preserved even though the world has changed drastically since his edits. My personal world and the world at large. We are not living in the same reality as we were back then. 

I find a way to move forward in a way that honours and preserves my dad’s imprint on my story. I will not change the book even though the world is upside down. Topsy turvey. I will add one chapter at the beginning to explain this and then I will publish. Hit send. It will be done.

Because that’s what he encouraged me to do. 

He believed that my manuscript was valuable and worthy of being seen. 

My book has been finished for a while.

If I don’t feel ready to publish it now, would I ever become ready? 

Is there a timeline for this kind of vulnerability? A statue of limitations? If I’m being honest with myself, it’s not very likely. 

Holding my tear filled manuscript filled with my dad’s notes close to my heart I decided the time was now. 

It felt heavy in my hands. It’s time to put it down. To set it free, into the world. I’ve been carrying a lot. The weight of my grief feels slightly lighter making the decision to finally let the manuscript go. 

I think part of why this feels important right now is because something has shifted. 

We’re hearing fewer firsthand stories of survivors. 

I’m seeing antisemitism show up in ways that feel so incredibly familiar inside my body. But I’ve never experienced anything like this before. 

This book is my attempt to sit in the space between history and lived experience. To find a way to make the horrors of the Holocaust stories I grew up listening to feel like there was some lesson to be learned. Find a light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s my attempt to fill the space between my head and my heart with words of meaning, comfort, inner strength. 

To do better for my children. To encourage others to do the same. 

In my writing there are no real answers. There are lots of questions. 

There are topics that I am curious about and that I attempt to engage with honestly.

It’s my attempt to bridge the stories from my grandparents and great grandparents, so they somehow feel connected to the lives we’re living right now. Connected to the legacy I would like to leave for future generations.

I invite you to grapple with all of this alongside me. 

My Dearest Children is my memoir to be released (finally) on Amazon May 7th. 

Kindle pre-orders are live now! 

I hope you find sparks of resonance and connection as you read my memoir. I look forward to hearing your feedback! 

Xo Danna