Tre Miller Rodriguez's Blog, page 104

A Tar Heel-Shaped Hope

May 16th will find me in North Carolina.

At an event most bio moms dare not dream of:

Their child’s high-school graduation.

At her family’s invitation, I’ll be cheering, picture-taking and happy-crying right along with them.

There isn’t much that compares to a weeklong sleepover in Laurie’s room during graduation and prom season.

But we’re pretty sure that a May 19th reading at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill will only make it sweeter.

If you guys feel the same way, would you: 

Like Flyleaf’s Facebook page and post on their Wall?

Follow/Tweet ‘em @FlyleafBook + mention #heartshapedmemoir?

Reblog this for your Raleigh/Chapel Hill friends?

With your Tar-Heeled help, I’ll be hugging all your faces in six weeks—and introducing you to the new graduate who’s sprung back into my world as a fully formed daughter/sister/best friend.

"Just finished ‘Splitting the Difference.’ Your voice is so strong and your storytelling..."

“Just finished ‘Splitting the Difference.’ Your voice is so strong and your storytelling so descriptive that I felt as though I was right there with you throughout the entire year. But the beginning…those opening pages…your words put me in that room, beside you. I can’t imagine reliving those moments in order to write those words, but I’m so grateful you did it — reading it was an experience I will never forget.

Thank you.”

- —Tara, Canada (itonlylookslikeimincharge)

‘Heart-Shaped Memoir’ is currently #71 on Amazon’s 100...

‘Heart-Shaped Memoir’ is currently #71 on Amazon’s 100 Bestsellers in ‘Death & Grief.’ Thank God for the sexy categories. (And Tumblrs who don’t believe in categories.)

Heart-Shaped Sidewalk (Chelsea, NYC)

Heart-Shaped Sidewalk (Chelsea, NYC) 

ink-and-paper-pursuit:Splitting the Difference: A...

ink-and-paper-pursuit:

Splitting the Difference: A Heart-Shaped Memoir
By Tré Miller Rodríguez

Reviewed By: Lili

The Set Up:

Tré Miller Rodríguez became a widow at thirty-four.  I’m not spoiling anything from the book here - it’s on the book jacket, for goodness’ sake - and it’s important to know going in that this is a memoir of loss and mourning.  That being said, it’s not a Sad Book: think Nicholas Sparks or those lovely Lurlene McDaniel books I devoured in middle school about kids with cancer.  After telling us about Alberto’s sudden death in March of 2009, following a whirlwind courtship and three-year marriage, Tré’s story is about her past triumphs, her present grief, and her future in a world immeasurably shaped by, but no longer physically including, Alberto.

Tré has a very popular Tumblr, and I devoured her blog in my early Tumblin’ days, so I’ll admit that I was concerned that I’d read it all before.  I hadn’t.  Tré has lived the kind of life that you WANT to read about - especially me, living in the East Coast ‘burbs incredibly far from the action movie that was her teens and twenties.  (There weren’t many bonfires with acid trips in small town New Jersey.  I suddenly feel like I missed out on something.)  But beyond all that, Tré delves into the nitty gritty of her life: the loss of her brother Phil to a car accident, the surrender of her daughter for adoption at nineteen, the boyfriends and hook-ups and funerals and parties that led her to Alberto and a cross-country move.  And of course, what happens next, including a beautiful reunion with her daughter that I won’t spoil for you.  But grab some tissues.  I needed them.

This book is moving without being cloying, optimistic without having a Disney ending, artistically woven without a forced artsy feeling.  It’s fascinating to me how immediate the book felt: she writes about posting to Twitter the morning she finds Alberto and leaving him Facebook messages after he’s gone, things I never really considered but are obviously a part of loss in our social media-soaked world.  I lost the thread of the narration sometimes - Tré intersperses stories from her youth into the present, and I’m incredibly literal when I read - but it was always easy to pick up again.  Her words feel like poetry, and even when she’s in the worst of her despair, there’s something beautiful about reading her words.  

When I finished, I wasn’t depressed.  Similarly to how her daughter feels, I felt like I’d just read about an amazingly literary, well-lived, well-loved life.  I felt like I’d gotten to know Alberto and had just experienced a beautiful tribute to his life and the impact it’s had even after it ended.  And overall, I wanted to give Tré a huge hug.  Which is not something I normally say about memoir writers.  I don’t usually like memoirs.  I loved this one.  It made me want to love harder and live a little crazier and appreciate everyone in my life a little more.  THAT is the sign of a good book.

Trigger Warnings: As mentioned on the jacket and in this review, Tré’s husband dies of a heart attack.  She finds him that morning, and the first chapter of this book deals with the day of his death in vivid detail.  If that’s a thing that freaks you out, brace yourself - it’s not worth skipping the book over, but it is a thing you should know before starting.  

Read This If: You’ve ever lost someone you loved, or you’ve ever loved someone at all.  I hugged my boyfriend A a little tighter after reading this, and called my mom, and sent a prayer up to my nana in heaven - who died of a heart attack at age 56.  It’s a fitting tribute to anyone you’ve lost to read this book and think of them.

Rating: 

Add it to your Goodreads!

Order: Book / Kindle

Kept waiting for the “but…” or “the book failed to…” yet it somehow never came. Fingers/eyes/toes crossed that the other impending reviews are half as kind.

I did not wake to bacon scents or snow flurries this morning. I...

I did not wake to bacon scents or snow flurries this morning.
I did not have to carry a coffin or deliver a eulogy this afternoon.
In fact, the memory of March 21, 2009, did not disrupt today’s meditation, Pilates or two-hour conference calls with clients.
But as the sun began to set and I exchanged texts with Alberto’s mother and sister, the clutch in my throat made an appearance.
I suddenly wanted to be anywhere but working.
(Except I’m on deadline).
Any state but sober.
(Except it’s Lent).
Anything but alone.
(Except I don’t want to go anywhere.)
And so I put my ass back in the chair, finish the work and head to bed with a book.
A half-hour later, the old cell phone I use as an occasional back-up alarm makes a noise.
I don’t recognize the source of the buzzing until it happens again and I catch a glimpse of the lighted screen.
And see the welcome message he programmed in 2006:
Hello, I Love U.
And just like that, alone and home and sober on March 21, 2013, feels half-alright.

"I was also forced to join the sisterhood of widows at a young age: I was 29 and B., the most amazing..."

“I was also forced to join the sisterhood of widows at a young age: I was 29 and B., the most amazing person I have ever met, was 33. It has only been 38 weeks. Thirty-eight long, hard weeks, and although I may not be emotionally ready to read your book, I am buying it so it is here when I am.”

- —  Anon, Wichita, Kansas

Two hours ‘til my first reading of #heartshapedmemoir! (633 W....

Two hours ‘til my first reading of #heartshapedmemoir! (633 W. Davis St.) Can’t wait to hug all the faces!

Dock of the Day (Ashes & Flowers on White Rock Lake, Dallas)

Dock of the Day (Ashes & Flowers on White Rock Lake, Dallas)

The week since launch has been a week of highs—interviews, new...

The week since launch has been a week of highs—interviews, new readers, your words and reblogs—and lows: pre-sale shipping delays,  Amazon’s out-of-stock status, ongoing Nook issues.

Today finds me in Texas with one of my lifelong besties doing a walk-through at Lucky Dog Books.

It’s why I’m planning, not dreading, the four-year anniversary of Alberto’s death tomorrow.

On March 15th, 2013, his ashes will be in the same bag as the book dedicated to him.

I will spread them in the same city where my first in-store reading will happen on Saturday.

And for the first March 15th in four years, it will be a day hemmed in more sweet than bitter.