EDITOR'S LETTER #3
At the start of the year, we took a trip to Miami with friends we love and adore. It was relaxing and restorative. By the end of May, I'd finished a year of writing workshops at NYU, and I'd completed the manuscript I'd been working on for years. At home, my spring garden was in full bloom. The sun had never shined so bright. But then the clouds rolled in, and color everywhere disappeared when my mother called to say she had terminal cancer.
Over the next seven weeks, nothing else existed as I chronicled my mother's one-day-at-a-time hanging on her every last word until that bastard cancer claimed her body. It still feels surreal to recall that warm July morning just before sunrise when my mother transitioned to the place where angels flock and only good things happen; where the pain is a distant memory, and she now rests in eternal peace.
Since then, my life exists in two parts: before my mother passed and after she passed. In light of this, my pace has slowed. Because before she died, it was as if I were always in a hurry to get somewhere or achieve that next thing. However, if asked today why I was always in a rush, I'd say, “I am no longer sure.”
Losing my mother has forced me to recalibrate everything. And I am a more present person because of it. Though I suppose that is what they call the silver lining.
And as I dive headfirst into 2018, I find my cup runneth over with with love and support from my three incredible daughters and my husband/best friend. Time with the four loves of my life is what matters most. Still, as I make strides to secure a literary agent/have my novel published, I will remember the year I've had, and I will remind myself to take every day one-day-at-a-time; and I will remind myself that though I am bent, I am not broken.
With love,
Brooklyn Chateau
Happy New Year!
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