The first draft of Into the Night and Gone was written over the course of only two-weeks, during a very difficult time in my life.
You see, my brother had passed away only two years previously in a violent accident. Two years can seem like a long time, and, honestly, I felt like I was doing okay. Bouts of mourning would come and go, but they were getting further and further in between. I thought I was healing up quite nice, thank you!
But the more time that past, the more I found myself struggling to reconcile the enormity of that event with the mundanity of my daily life. I struggled with the questions and doubts that I imagine are common to all of us who grieve.
- Did he know how much I loved him?
- Did he know how much I valued his friendship?
- Did I leave anything left unsaid?
- Did he?
Into the Night and Gone became my meditation on memory, missed chances, reconciliation, and the courage it takes to return to mourn.
Writing it was not an escape from grief. Instead, it was a way of confronting it and honoring the beauty that can be found, even in tragedy. It was a way of expressing, through fiction, those feelings that I couldn’t find the words to say out loud.
If my story, or Into the Night and Gone, resonate with you, I hope it reminds you of the people who you’ve lost, who’ve helped to shaped you, and gives you an opportunity to honor their memory.