This morning, Nick and I were talking about the fact that some people seem to be afraid to read Little Matches when a friend sent me a message:

I hadn’t yet started LITTLE MATCHES because a friend’s son is dying of cancer, and I didn’t think I had the emotional capacity. Last night, however, your book seemed to be calling. I began reading and was hit with wave upon wave of warmth and light. I’m just getting started, but I wanted you to know what comfort LITTLE MATCHES provides. 

I have been receiving a lot of messages, and some of them are by people who are surprised to find that Little Matches is comforting and inspiring. Please know that I didn’t write the book to share misery, but to share the beauty and mystery of living and loving.

I think I’ll post a few anonymous snippets of messages I’ve received. And below I will re-publish Caitlin’s wonderful Mother’s Day post of 2015. Her words are reminders that “everybody has some kind of pain, as well as some kind of good in their life, and that none of this is a contest.”

I am certain this book will continue to ignite people’s souls on so many levels as it has done mine. I think love is making yourself known. On that, you have shared yourself and, just as importantly, Caitlin with the world which, to me, is love. It is a selfless act to share all of these stories and many will be the better for reading your words. Caitlin not only was a deep thinker but zippy and full of sparkles!

Just finished Little Matches. Wow. Is it weird that I feel like I’m in an altered state after reading it? Maryanne has a remarkable ability to make me feel like I was somehow part of it all. It seemed so vivid, so familiar. The grief is so tangible, even though I didn’t know Caitlin. I’m still processing, but what’s coming through for me most right now is gratitude that I got to share in the beauty and wonder of Caitlin’s life.

I just finished your book. I follow your blog, but this put it so much more in perspective. Choose faith, today and always. Thank you for that reminder and for framing it not in a religious context, but one that we can all use every day.

Last night I was thinking how glad I am for this book because like – this huge thing happened, Caitlin, and I was a tiny piece of it but it changed my life and my whole outlook on life, and I can’t explain it to people, the bigness of it, of her. And the book just does it. You feel the bigness on every page.

I don’t normally write to authors, but felt compelled to share this story with you, after seeing you last night in conversation about your book. Thank you for sharing your story and your daughter with the world. My work with older people keeps my eye on the brevity of our living, even if we reach 100.  I  share your conviction and Caitlin’s, loving people and human connection is what matters most, that endures beyond all constructs of space and time.  I hope you don’t mind that I shared this with you. Your story and writing are inspiring.

I wanted to write you and let you know I stayed up most of the night reading your gorgeous and heartbreaking and hopeful book, Little Matches. First of all, I wanted to thank you for writing such an amazing book.  Your words are so beautiful —and so important. Thank you for sharing them with the world.

9LivesNotes

Our Cat has Nine Lives

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Mostly Companion, written by Caitlin

At some point when I was little, my mom and I started referring to one another as our “mostly companion.”  It probably grew out of the time I was having surgery when I was 11, and was in the hospital a lot.  We would get overly tired, stressed, and…really silly.  We were absurdly often at our funniest when things were worst.  I guess that is common for people in trying health situations, and it’s a nice silver lining.  The other day, in the hospital while I tried to eat lunch, my mom put on quite a show of impressions and we were laughing so hard. The game was to do one small word, look or movement from a movie…not a whole line.  Her imitation of Salieri yelling “MOZART!!!” from Amadeus was the best…she has an incredible man-voice that she harnesses from deep within. Oh my goodness, maybe you had to be there.

I don’t write much on the blog, but today is the day to do it.  For those of you who know us well, I am so close to my mom that it sometimes terrifies me.  Maybe it terrifies her too. I know how lucky I am to have a mom like her, and parents like mine, and our situation — my situation — has made our link stronger, and sometimes that’s scary.  We both know that there will be a time, hopefully, strangely, where I am well again and we live apart like typical adult mother and daughter, and we will look back on this time with nostalgia. Right now we are  suspended, and we do puzzles together and watch Mad Men and she gives me leg massages, and everything, good or bad, is heightened. Everything makes me cry these days, good things more often than bad — so there’s a lot of appreciating that goes on.  But its also draining, exhausting.  Living in the moment is a good adage, but like anything, there can be too much of it.

My mom is doing everything for me, she has uprooted herself.  My dad is living alone in MA when he is not here, and I know its hard for him in a way I can’t imagine. Andrew is back and forth as well.  Here since December though, non-stop, has been my mom.  She cooks, does the laundry, listens to me, sits with me in the ER, in the hospital…she even feeds Henry homemade food that she makes herself. Here in Pittsburgh, where she knew no one, she has made friends and found interesting things to do, always finding something to be enthusiastic about.  Even writing this now is making me want to be more like her, and I feel even more thankful just putting it into words.

She has somehow found time to write everyday, and has since July 1st, circling the date in red when she is done — she has remarkable follow-through with things.  It has taken me over 2 months to gain 4 pounds, and I WOULD NOT have been able to do it without her.  When you get evaluated for transplant, part of the evaluation is making sure you have a good support system, because it is so vital to how well you do.  This might seem hard to grasp to a healthy person who thinks that ultimately, you can get through anything on your own if you really have to.  I am telling you – haha – you can’t.  You need people, and I wouldn’t be here without her.

I am also aware on a day like today how hard it must be for some people, who have to be painfully reminded each May that they don’t, for whatever reason, have that relationship.  It reminds me again that everybody has some kind of pain, as well as some kind of good in their life, and that none of this is a contest.  As hard as it is being sick and being here, my mostly companion and I are having some laughs.  There’s probably a lot of people out there with great lungs, and no mummy.  Everybody is just trying.

As it usually is when you love someone so much you can’t put it into words, everything I have written here feels inadequate.  But most of you already know what a great mummy she is, I am just here to tell you …that she is even better than that, and that I love her so so so much.

happy mother’s day!

–Caitlin

Three years ago right now I was in Italy at a literary workshop. I had 25 pages of Little Matches written but I still I had no idea whether it would ever become a book. When I arrived home, I resumed my practice of setting a timer every day and sitting down to write “no matter what.” I aimed for a chapter a week, and sent the pages to my friend, the writer Susan Conley, every Monday. I needed to feel like somebody was expecting those pages, and I’m grateful to Susan and to two other close friends, Jane and Monique, for steadily urging me on.

And now it’s complete! In four short weeks, it will be out in the world.

🕯BE MY GUEST AT THE VIRTUAL LAUNCH CELEBRATION 🕯

All events are currently still virtual. It means I can’t see you in person, but it also means you can see me from the comfort of your own home, and we can be connected no matter where we are.

My first event will be at Brookline Booksmith in Massachusetts. I did quite a few CASCADE events there, and nothing would make me happier than to talk about this book, for the first official time, with loved ones surrounding me and pizza at Otto afterward, but I am also so grateful that the virtual option exists.

I am excited to talk about Caitlin and this book, and how much I hope it will inspire people to love deeply, live purposefully, and seek joy. My conversation partner is going to be an old friend, the absolutely stunning writer and wonderful human, Lily King. Lily and I had a long, outdoor walk this past December and talked about how people, after they are gone, can actually start to feel near again in a wonderful way that you never expected.

I have a small request. I would LOVE it if attending guests would light themselves a little candle 🕯 in honor of Caitlin, their own loved ones, and in honor of themselves. I won’t be able to see you all out there, but if I can imagine your faces shining amidst all that light, I think we can conjure a beautiful, virtual community for one precious hour.

The event is free but you must register to get the Zoom link. Click here: Zoom link for Booksmith

🕯MORE LITTLE MATCHES CONVERSATIONS 🕯

Because I will be doing most of my book talks with conversation partners – wonderful writers who are generously giving me their time – we will not be following any set script. Each talk will be unique and wonderful and I hope new readers will hear about them and attend.

All of my events are/will be listed on my website and we will keep it up-to-date. I will also write another post soon, with updates.

🌀 LEGACY WORKSHOPS 🌀

A head’s up that I’m going to be offering some mini-workshops at some bookstores around the country. Recently, I trained as a certified end-of-life doula at the University of Vermont’s Larner College of Medicine. I knew that the training would a) better prepare me for the hospice volunteering I plan to do when Covid restrictions lift, 2) help me to better speak to the state of end-of-life care in our culture.

My favorite part of the doula training was legacy work – helping people record life interviews. Life interviews offer an opportunity for people to reflect on their lives and shape their stories, regardless of age or current health.

I believe in the idea that everyone has a story that deserves to be preserved, and have written a brief article about life interviews and the opportunities that I missed with my daughter and my mother. It will run in Time Magazine in early April.

So far, we’ve set up three of these free, one-hour workshops with bookstores in California, Washington state, and Florida, but because they are virtual, anyone anywhere can certainly attend. They are/will be listed on my website with registration links. So far it’s Warwick’s in LaJolla, Books and Books in Miami, and Elliot Bay Books in Seattle.

🌀 SIGNS 🌀

I’ve been wanting to write another “signs” post for a long time but I’ve been so busy writing other things, I haven’t had a chance. As always there are constant 33s and hawks in our lives, but some of the instances have been particularly fascinating. Here’s one thing that I’ve been meaning to share since last summer.
As I wrote here, my mom passed in June. Earlier that year, I was helping to take care of her after she had begun to fail.  I knew that she had a lifelong fear of death and even though she was clearly not long for this world, she clung to a hope that she would miraculously get better and live another ten years. With my mother and me, if a subject was uncomfortable, it was not discussed, but as I was helping her into bed one night, I mustered up my courage. I said, “I know you’re scared but it’s going to be okay.” And I said what I believed to be most true: “I KNOW there’s more than this. You’ll see!  I’m actually envious. You’re going to see Caitlin.”

She did not comment, just looked at me steadily, processing what I’d said.

Two months after her passing, I had a session with Kristin Bredimus, a spiritual consultant with a toolkit full of abilities, whose energy work is so powerful that I stumble off her table like I’ve had a two-hour deep-tissue massage. As Kristin was passing her hands through the air above the left side of my body, I heard her ask something about “mother.” We were both masked and she had a shield on; she had to speak up.

There was mother energy wanting to present itself, she said. “Has your mother passed?”  

“She has,” I said. “Very recently.”

“She’s saying, ‘You were right. You were right.’”

“Really?”

“Yes. Did you two have an argument about something?”

We had not, I said. And I told her what I thought it meant.

After the session, I got in my car and began to drive away. A car pulled out of a side street, right in front of me, and right in front of Kristin’s building.

And as I was writing this post, I had to do a search on my phone to find the pic of the license plate. You really can’t make this stuff up.

Oh and this just popped up this morning in “Facebook Memories.” I’ll add it for the pleasure of all who are longing to travel again. Sigh.