Heart-Shaped Gratitude
Many thanks to my agent, Wendy Sherman, who championed this book from the word go, and to the brilliant Claire Bidwell Smith, who so generously led me to Wendy. Without your friendship, insight, and support, I’d be just another girl with a blog.
To the fearless females at She Writes Press: thank you for existing. Thanks for taking the chance no one else would and trusting my vision even (and especially) when it wasn’t protocol. Brooke Warner and Kamy Wicoff: it’s an honor and a joy to be on this ride with you.
I am indebted to the friends-slash-editors whose early belief in this story moved it beyond a saccharine collection of Facebook updates. Diane Vadino, Liz Madans, Jo Piazza and Ian Moore: I couldn’t repay you in a hundred lifetimes or with two hundred drinks, but I’ll try.
God bless you, Mom and Dad, for lifting me through the rough and stumbles. Thank you for believing in me when I needed it most but deserved it the least. I love and adore you both. Also, if a few pages made you reach for the eye bleach, forgive me?
Most people are lucky to have one great family, but I was blessed with two. I am deeply grateful to Hilda and Barby, who neither cringed at the idea or reality of this book. Muchisma gracias for embracing me as Albert’s wife . . . and widow. You truly are my Next Best Things.
Jack and Lisa: your grace astounds and humbles me. How can I begin to thank you for raising the daughter I couldn’t? And for then sharing her with me . . . and the world? Laurie, your existence has shaped my existence, but your love has evolved me. The girl I hoped to become is now who I am. You are the reason why.
And because it takes a village, I’m in awe of the kindness, generosity, and talent that goes by the following names: Don and Laurel, Henry, Francesca, Tara, Katie, Carter, Mike, Brent and Quiana, Mandy, Joye, Hood, Mal, Missy, Camille, Jason and Rob, Naumann, Sharon, Nikki and Fico, Kip, Mariana and Agnes, Tony Papa, Jess and Gene, Sue, Vanessa, James, Maggie, Ron, and Svetlana. Ryan Bradley: for all the floor picnics, soundtracks and cover-shaping glimmers . . .
domo arigato.
To the army of Tumblrs who helped shape this story into existence: you keep me laughing, connecting, writing, and remembering that the Internet is made of people whose lives are braver, better dressed, and more inspiring than mine.
To the members of the club no one wants to join: thank you for embracing, energizing, and affirming a fellow widow. Each grief path is different, but our Facebook posse has made mine considerably less solitary. (Bonus: the right kind of inappropriate and women without judgy faces.) May all of you find comfort in the peace-shaped things.
My greatest gratitude, of course, is owed to the man whose life and legacy inspired these pages. Darling, I hope you’ve dispensed already with the fear of heights because I’ve just sent up a book tied to a few hundred balloons.
About the Author
Tré Miller Rodríguez was born in California and lives in New York City. An award-winning copywriter and UC Berkeley graduate, her essays have appeared in Manhattan Magazine, and on The Daily Beast and WhiteElephantInTheRoom.com. This is her first book.
Photo © Henry Alvarez
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