A Guest Post by Rebecca Gardyn Levington about her new picture book, I Wish That You Knew
I WISH THAT YOU KNEW
Written by Rebecca Gardyn Levington
Illustrated by Alyssa Russell
(Little Bee Books; $19.99, Ages 4-8)
I’m thrilled to share this moving and meaningful guest post
by author Rebecca Gardyn Levington.
DESCRIPTION:
A child reflects on all the fun things she used to do with her grandmother, like baking challah, growing tulips, walking on the beach, and sharing jokes. Told against the backdrop of a Jewish unveiling ceremony, which takes place around the first anniversary of a loved one’s passing, this is a story about the imprints that the people we love leave upon our hearts long after they are gone.
This heartfelt picture book is about honoring those we have lost by remembering the happiness, comfort, and wisdom they brought into our lives.
INTRO:
Thank you, Ronna, for allowing me to guest post today!
I’m very excited to share my latest picture book, which is easily the one that is closest to my heart. It is called I WISH THAT YOU KNEW, illustrated by the incredible Alyssa Russell, and will be published on Aug. 25th by Little Bee Books.
POST:
Here’s a little about the book:
I WISH THAT YOU KNEW is a picture book about a child reflecting upon a special relationship she cherished with her supportive and fun-loving grandmother, who recently passed away. The story takes place during the grandmother’s unveiling ceremony, on the first yahrzeit, or
anniversary, of her death, offering readers a glimpse into this Jewish tradition. It is here, after a year of mourning, that the child is finally able to let go of some of her sadness and celebrate the many moments of joy that they shared.
As I said, this book is pretty personal. My inspiration was Grandma Charlotte, my Gram, who had truly been my best friend. So much of what I love and who I am is a result of my relationship with her. Her unconditional support, positive energy, and wise tough-love advice over the years have, without question, shaped how I view the world and myself in it. Gram passed away in 2013, and around the 10-year anniversary of her death, I was missing her terribly and was thinking about how much had happened since she died. She never got to see my two sons grow up or see me reinvent myself as a children’s book author and poet. She never got to read any of my books. And so, I did what I do. I wrote a poem. For her. And for me. I never initially intended this poem to become anything other than a way for me to process my grief, but as I continued to write and revise, I felt like there was a more universal story coming through me that might help others cope with their own losses.
When my editor, Jaime Gelman at Little Bee Books, initially reached out with interest, she said she thought it was beautifully written and she’d “always wanted an unveiling story” (who knew?!), but she said that, as written, it was a bit too sentimental. She thought that perhaps I was too close to the story (which I was, of course) and asked if I would be willing to revise in such a way as to create some distance between myself and the characters. Jaime also asked me this vital question: “How does participating in the unveiling ceremony specifically help this child process her grief?” Initially, I had used the unveiling purely as a backdrop, but pondering Jaime’s question led me down a rabbit hole of research and understanding about why the unveiling ritual exists in the Jewish tradition.
For those who are not familiar, the unveiling ceremony is when, a year after one’s death, a permanent grave marker is placed at the gravesite. It is called an “unveiling” because as part of the ceremony, the grave marker is initially covered with a veil or cloth, and the person leading the ceremony (often a rabbi) “unveils” it to the loved one’s family and friends for the first time. In my research, I learned that one of the reasons we wait an entire year before erecting the grave marker is to give us time to get used to our grief, to “practice” living without our loved one, before we make it feel permanent with a marker. So, in the story, I revised it so that not only is the child reminiscing about all the things she loved doing with her grandmother and all the ways she now misses her, but she is also realizing that the passage of time has been a gift because it has given her time and distance from the shock of the loss and only now, a year later, is finally ready to start moving forward. She says: “It’s time to let go of some of the sad/and celebrate moments of joy that we had.” Notice that I used the word “some” because she likely will never, of course, lose the sadness of her loss, but the gift of time offers her the ability to let go of “some” of it, while still holding on to all of the joy.
Leaning more into the reasons for the unveiling also helped me create some distance from the characters because my own family, for various reasons, never actually held an unveiling ceremony for my Gram. By thinking about how my character’s participation in the ceremony helped her process her loss, I was able to more easily separate myself from the child’s emotions and could tell her story, rather than my own. Of course, there are still many moments in the book that still very much mirror my relationship with my Gram. And these lines, from the original poem I wrote her, never changed:
e
I want you to know
I keep you with me.
Your love has helped shape
who I am and will be.
e
I’m enormously grateful to my editor for pushing me and asking all the right questions so that this book could become exactly what it needed to be.
Thank you for taking the time to read this post, and thank you, Ronna, for having me on the blog.
Wishing you all a joyful summer.
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