HOPE IS A BRIGHT STAR

A memoir follows a woman’s path through heartache to acceptance and new beginnings after the tragic loss of her young daughter.

During the summer of 2000, Wilcox’s 13-year-old daughter, Elizabeth, was diagnosed with osteosarcoma, a rare and extremely aggressive form of bone cancer. Despite intense chemotherapy, radiation, and Elizabeth’s indomitable spirit, she died in early September of the following year. The shocking prognosis of Elizabeth’s 10% chance of survival fractured the author’s already fragile marriage. According to Wilcox, by October 2000, it became painfully clear that her husband, Neville, would not provide the emotional and physical support she, Elizabeth, and the girl’s older sister, Olivia, desperately needed. The author left her husband, and she and the two girls moved into her sister Susie’s home for seven months until Wilcox could purchase a new house. Through articulate, passionate, but never mawkish prose, Part 1 of the book recounts the year leading up to Elizabeth’s death—weeks of powerful chemotherapy alternating with periods at home, moments of respite, and the extraordinary, unfailing help of family and close friends. The author shares the heartbreaking results of Elizabeth’s July 2001 full body scan: “Like an advancing enemy, tumor after tumor invades her lungs, hips, sternum, ribs, and even her skull.” Parts 2 and 3 offer a helpful guide through grief and recovery. Wilcox began a nightly ritual of writing down her feelings and memories, a practice she encourages others to follow as a tool for healing. She returned to work, continued psychotherapy, and found moments of tranquility and joy in nature, which she describes with poetic elegance. And she fell in love. Throughout the moving narrative, Elizabeth shines as a sweet, compassionate, loving young girl, willing to endure frightening rounds of treatments and displaying remarkable courage at the end: “Mommy, I don’t mind that I’m leaving now. That may be very hard for you to hear, but I’ve tried so hard for one year. I’m not scared—it feels like I’m going on a trip. I just don’t know where I’m going.” Notwithstanding a permeating sadness, there are comforting words to be found in these pages.

A strong, poignant addition to the genre; best for fellow travelers.