Playing through the pain.
by novelistpaulmosier
In February of 2016, a sudden overbite in the mouth of my beautiful 7 year old daughter, Harmony, led to a diagnosis of Rhabdomyosarcoma, a cancer which strikes 5 children per million. 27 months later, Harmony’s bed is empty.
While Harmony was still in the hospital with her initial diagnosis, I pitched the idea for the second book of my contract with HarperCollins to be a novel informed by Harmony’s experience, and the experience of our family. My editor agreed, so long as the novel was from the point of view of the cancer fighter’s older sister. So I began work on the novel that would become Echo’s Sister. I wrote ahead of our actual experience, and the novel ends six months into Echo’s battle. I hoped I would be done with it– cancer and the book. Writing it was a good way to process what we experienced as a family, a subject I would never have imagined myself touching in a story. Cancer sucks. I never wanted to read about it and I certainly didn’t think I’d want to write about it. But write it I did, turning in the first draft about four months into Harmony’s cancer journey.
In the summer of 2016 I began work on my next middle grade novel, 30 Parks, about a girl whose father takes her on a tour of all 30 Major League Baseball parks in a desperate attempt at repairing their relationship. It progressed well until our family of four went on holiday to an Airbnb in the Ocean Park neighborhood of Santa Monica. It was a beautiful time of good memories. Harmony was in remission, and we had every reason to think we would enjoy a long future with her. The sense of place– seaside town, ice cream shop, boogie boarding– pushed its way into my consciousness, and then two characters appeared– gothic Juillet and prototypical California girl Summer, and the novel Summer and July was born. I thought I could work on both it and 30 Parks at the same time, but I couldn’t really return to 30 Parks until Summer and July was finished. Summer and July came quickly, joyfully, and the first draft was nearly complete when Harmony experienced her first recurrence in November 2016.
Harmony fought hard, and refused to let cancer interfere with her getting as much from life as she could. She taught us, lifted us, and left her physical form fearlessly after telling us she would be fine, that this isn’t real. The bravest person I’ve ever known, and the wisest, is my younger daughter, Harmony. She will forever be 9 years, 7 months and 26 days old, but I’ll never impact the lives of others as much as she did in her short time in this dimension.
In truth I’ve been nearly unable to write for 18 months. My wonderful agent once called me “prolific,” but new words have been a struggle. It isn’t writer’s block– it’s been an inability to turn from the fear and the worry. Harmony kept on living, creating, but I could not.
Harmony created a breathtaking, funny body of artwork. She was also very much a consumer of novels and graphic novels. And so it is time for me to get back to the work of creating novels for the Harmonies of the world. It’s what my Harmony, our Harmony, would expect of me. So tonight I will open my laptop, find the in-progress manuscript of 30 Parks, and give it my best, if only for a few moments. Just to see if I still can.
I expect it will come. Two nights before her passing, sleeping in the chair beside Harmony’s hospital bed, I was awoken by her talking in her sleep. The last two words of the utterance were “Daddy’s book.” Two mornings later, the day she passed, I emailed my editor and found that it wasn’t too late to dedicate Echo’s Sister to Harmony Sea Mosier. Within three hours, we held her as she took her last breath, without a particle of fear. She squeezed my hand, I think to pass her strength to me. I will try to be worthy of hers.
I love you Harmony, and I’m so, so proud of you.
Thank you, Paul. And thank you, Harmony. She will continue to live through all of our deeds and through your beautiful words. She is here. I feel it.
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Thank you, Paul, for sharing this tribute to your courageous daughter. All our love to you, Keri and Eleri.
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A wonderful tribute to vibrant and courageous girl. I think she’ll always have a place in the hearts of every person she met.
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Paul, your voice is powerful, coherent and touches the depth of emotions that let us know we are alive. You have a gift! Harmony has inspired me to take extra steps and see this world of today as one of many dimensions.
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Beautiful, Paul. My heart goes out to you and your family. I followed all of your posts on Harmony over the past 2 years and felt as if I knew Harmony, even though I only saw her a couple of times in person. She inspired and humbled me with her courageous battle.
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Reblogged this on Past the Isle of Dogs and commented:
A post from a friend, author Paul Mosier, about his astonishing 9-year-old daughter Harmony, who passed away recently from a rare form of childhood cancer. I have followed Harmony’s journey from afar, affected deeply by the courage of this remarkable girl and her incredible family. My son is the same age as Harmony was (typing “was” here seems somehow profane) and I can’t imagine I’d be anything near as steadfast and positive as has been Paul and his wife over these past two years if I were in the same situation.
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Your beautiful daughter has touched mine and my children’s lives. She was such a brave girl through it all.
Thank you for sharing her with us. She is missed….never will she be forgotten.
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So sorry for your loss π
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Thank you!π
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