On Divine Timing, Long-Gestating Projects and Collaboration

From left to right: Ona Gritz, me, Judy Lipson, and Susan Casey with our anthology, photo taken by my awesome daughter

“Divine timing” is a phrase that I just learned has biblical roots—it suggests that an omnipotent deity ensures that life on earth unfolds in the precise way that deity knows to be for the highest good. The phrase is often used in new age circles and is a slippery term, but one that resonates with me.

I have a story for you.

When I was 24, my brother Will died. I moved from my new home in Maine, where I was attempting to assemble my young adult life, back to my parents’ home in Alaska. Will was my only sibling, and I felt like life as I knew it been obliterated. When I turned to books, which is what I always do when I’m struggling with something, I was baffled to find there was almost no existing literature on sibling loss. In one of the brief pauses between violent waves of raw grief, I decided, I’ll write one.

Months passed, and then years. I continued to ride the waves of grief. My mom and I took an epic road trip. I finally completed my extended college career at Evergreen State College, where I thrived, able to hyperfocus on writing. I experienced more grief. I tentatively made my way back to Maine, where I met my husband.

I went on to get an advanced degree in Transformative Language Arts—the power of writing to help us heal and grow. I wrote a thesis about how writing can support us through grief. I ran a crisis team, got burned out, decompressed for a while by doing temp work in data entry.

I had babies, which reignited my desire to write, despite or perhaps because my time was no longer my own. From time to time, I’d think about the anthology I’d wanted to write. To be honest, I sort of thought someone else would compile it.

But a few years ago, sometime in the haze of the pandemic, I sensed it was time to move forward with the anthology. During that time, I’d connected with several other writers who’d experienced sibling loss, and I became more intentional about creating community around this topic. I drafted a book proposal. A newish writing friend asked if I wanted a co-editor. We had a zillion Zoom meetings and revised the book proposal and sent out queries. We heard, wow, that sounds like a really sad book. And, this sounds important.... but I don’t know how to sell this book in this market.

We regrouped and tried other agents and publishers. We edited the essays we’d already collected and invited a handful of new colleagues to submit an essay. We wrote to four amazing, well-acclaimed published authors to ask for permission to include an excerpt from their work in our anthology, and they each said yes, and this is so necessary and thank you for doing this.

A few years into our work on the anthology, the magic began. We kept getting connected to amazing writers who’d experienced sibling loss, and as we reached out to each one, we began to form a life-changing community of writers, many of whom had felt isolated around the loss of their brother or sister.

My co-editor, Alyson, and I realized we had a book. We’d worked hard—our partner, Molly Fowkes, had created a beautiful website full of resources for sibling loss. We’d started a Sibling Grief Book Club. Two dozen of our colleagues had written, revised and generously agreed to allow us to use their words in this anthology.

It’s been 26 years since I first dreamt of this book. As someone who struggles with follow-through and completion, I can’t tell you how happy I am to offer this book up to those who need it. I believe wholeheartedly that it’s the right time for this long-gestating book to be here.

To me, this book is more than a book. It’s a tapestry of stories from people I now call friends. It’s the names, uttered out loud, of our lost brothers and sisters, whose lives and deaths shaped us. It’s heartbreak and love and magic.

It's a gift to the 24-year-old version of me, who felt alone and invalidated and lost. You will have friends who understand, I whisper in her ear. You will take this pain and make something beautiful out of it. It will take the time it takes. And when it finally happens, you will feel a sense of fullness you’ve rarely felt.

If you’re struggling with a project, or a number of projects, and it’s taking longer than you’d like, I offer this story to you. As long as we’re here, living this life, it’s not too late for your book/movie/painting/nonprofit/collaboration. I believe that this book was waiting for the right time and the right people to find one another, to create a constellation that hadn’t quite aligned until now.

Listen to those quiet, deep whispers of knowing. Do the next right thing, and then the next. Make something beautiful.

The Loss of a Lifetime: Grieving Siblings Share Stories of Love, Loss, and Hope is now available for pre-order in paperback and on Kindle!