Dear Friends,
I’ve received a couple of messages that suggest it’s not honest to say that my family secrets are mostly about good things that were more manufactured than they first appeared. These messages come from well-meaning friends worried about the “nonfictionalness” of my nonfiction; after all, my family has had its share of darkness. But we don’t hold that darkness in secret, where it could grow.
Seven years ago today, my mother, sister, and I all spoke publicly about my niece Kelli’s death from an overdose; in a few weeks, it will be time for Facebook memories to remind me of the 2020 death of her father from an overdose as well. The focus of my current project isn’t those sort of family stories, but where they are necessary for context, I won’t shy away from sharing them. As my family wrote at the time:
We are choosing to share this information with you, as a family, because we believe that it's important to acknowledge that this can happen in any family, and to encourage anyone currently struggling with addiction to seek help.
Secrets born of shame kill people and warp families. We don’t keep them.
Secrets about dropping seashells on the beach to delight a child, however, seem harmless enough… at least until it’s time to turn in a science project.
Best,
Sarah
Absolutely. We are as open as can be. In my next life, however, it might be interesting to have an aura of mystery. In this life we’ve blown it.