Roberta F. King

Author site for the memoir, He Plays a Harp

Archive for May, 2014

29 May
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Connectioning

I’ve found that one of the joys of reading He Plays a Harp is talking with people who come to my book events. I haven’t had that many events (yet) but at each, I meet people who have connected with my writing or my story.

Open

Open

Recently at Schuler Books, a young woman came for the reading and brought me a book to be signed. She was a bit teary and I asked her if she’d lost a child. “No,” she said, “but my son Colin has CP.” I asked her to stay after the signing so we could talk. Her son is 2 ½ years old and is in Grand Rapids for a session at the Conductive Learning Center. The six-week program of intense physical and occupational therapy helps kids with CP and other conditions gain strength and mobility. The mom was from California, her husband had just flown back home and she was staying for the therapy program. During the event I read a couple of stories about the severity of Noah’s disability—one about reading to him throughout his life because he never learned to read and another about an incident when Noah, despite his poor hand coordination, pulled a fire alarm at school. These stories perhaps foreshadowed her future with her son. She’s still coming the grips with the idea that she is raising a son with a severe disability—an emotional and heart-ripping situation when you don’t know what the future holds. Even with a non-disabled child, there is no sure and smooth path to the future, but that path is more stable and steady. Some kids with disabilities require constant care and attention and I think she knows that’s what her son will need. It is a heavy burden to carry—knowing that your child’s future is full of complications and physical, mental and social barriers physical.

I didn’t have any words of advice—other than you meet each moment as it comes and just do your best for you and your child. The fact that she was in Michigan from California for a six-week program showed me that whatever the future for Colin might hold, it was certain to be filled with tender care and motherly love.

Could anyone ask for anything more?

03 May
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A Second Goodbye

Broken

Broken

After four years of writing, revising and editing; making photo choices and reviewing page proofs I have a book in hand.

I love the feel of its soft touch paper cover, the typography is pleasing and the stories delight me as I re-read them. I have a handful of events planned and people seem excited to read it. This is what I worked for, right?

And I wonder why I don’t feel better, happier about this moment in time. I reached out to another author, Christine O’Hagen. She wrote The Book of Kehls, about the death of her son Jamie from Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy at the age of 24. After her book was published she had similar feelings. She wrote this to me: “The reason why you are not happier now is because you had Noah with you during the writing of the book, and now he is gone again. It took me a while to figure this out. The whole catharsis thing everyone in the world promised would happen – didn’t happen at all.”

Christine was right. For four years I held Noah close as I wrote. I thought about him hard, recalling scenes and moments that would help me create his character for the book. I held him closer than I had in many years and in the writing he became alive to me again.  Then, the writing ended. I had a sweet book on the way and I focused on other things. I felt emptiness return and the ongoing grief that had been tempered by writing was back. I’m missing Noah like I did in the early years after his death.

In the next few weeks I’m doing several readings and book signing events. I’m hoping to feel Noah’s presence as I introduce him to people that never knew him and share memories of him with our old friends.