Abstract
Stories of illness and death have been told in various literary forms, from novel and poetry to “graphic pathographies,” a term coined to describe illness narratives in the comic strip format. 1 Rosalie Lightning is a recently published graphic memoir by Tom Hart about the loss of his daughter Rosalie to a sudden, unexplained illness. Hart chronicles the months after Rosalie's death, during which he and his partner Leela were unwittingly propelled through the territory of grief.
In his memoir, Hart's grief is a filter through which every detail of daily living is analyzed, wherein “every sign takes on a new meaning.” (p. 90) Comic strips are exclusively black-and-white; some large panels display thoughts pasted on a dark background from which emanates a sense of isolation that is most striking in the earliest pages of the work. As the reader progresses through the chapters, strips become brighter, as does the narrative.
Punctuated by analepses that tell of a time when his daughter was alive, Hart uses a present tense narrative that underscores a need for immediacy, a forced carpe diem in a period when a recent past is difficult to revisit, and a future is filled with angst. Through the search for portents of death—the writing of a diary, a storm punctuated by bolts of lightning, Rosalie's atypical behavior two days before her death—Hart rewrites previous circumstances to instill meaning into an incomprehensible event.
Of striking importance throughout the chapters is Hart's depiction of his loss of personal identity. “Wasn't I a father?” is a question he asks repeatedly, made more acute when the couple considers the eventuality of having another child. When asked for personal ID at an ATM, for instance, he exclaims: “My personal ID was Rosalie.” (p. 183) Hart is masterful at representing a frequent struggle of grieving parents: a desire to reclaim a lost identity, running parallel to a need to recognize that the death of their child has changed them, and their parenthood, forever.
The highlight of Hart's memoir is the depiction of a stumbling healing process that suffers unexpected turns and drawbacks, but keeps moving forward. Hart understands that his search for restorative meaning drives him on uncharted territory: “I know that broken and troubled characters must travel to new worlds to heal and overcome. Venture to the underworld and the subconscious where truths are met.” (p. 101) Vivid depictions of dreams add further complexity to the inner world of the grieving parent.
Illness narratives offer the author the possibility of re-enacting a story, extracting from it the most valuable details—as well as omitting some of the most painful experiences. 2 As such, very little space is given to Rosalie's illness itself, a period Hart finds painful to revisit. When doing so, Hart blurs its depiction of his daughter's hospital stay, further highlighting how incomprehensible Rosalie's illness and sudden death are and will likely remain. In comparison, a large part of the memoir brings the reader with Hart and Leela on the road where they meet strangers, family members, and friends who support and guide them as they heal.
Hart's sensibility and insight make him aware of the double relevance of his work: both as a narrative of healing and a part of the healing process itself. He describes astutely how, as days become more tolerable, a need arises to understand what lies ahead, and to consider many scenarios. When visiting family friends who also lost their child many years ago, Hart observes them closely, “watching for clues as to how a grieving parent acts 25 years later.” (p. 162) As Hart and Leela become stronger, they begin to consider what their lives will look like from there: “I am wondering how this will end. With another child? […] By becoming a grief counselor? By remaining everyone's worst case scenario?” (p. 202) Hart, it seems, has found solace in what he does best: storytelling.
Although Rosalie Lightning describes the moments after the sudden death of a previously healthy child, Tom Hart's depiction of the reconstruction of personal identity after a loss, and the healing process, remains highly relevant for parents and palliative care practitioners who are looking for guidance or insight into the world of grieving parents. There is something unique in the way Tom Hart translates an exquisitely individual experience into an accessible and moving story. Graphic memoirs on such subjects as grief are rare and make Rosalie Lightning all the more relevant, serving as an example of the healing power of creative writing and the arts. 3 The work holds educational potential in an era wherein grief and loss are often confined to the margins of everyday life.
There is increasing support for the use of literature and the arts for medical education. The last 15 years have seen a surge of interest from scholars in “graphic medicine”—graphic memoirs and stories of illness.1,4,5 Some evidence exists to suggest that visual arts enhance medical students' observational skills.6,7 Graphic medicine, by combining visual imagery with storytelling, has the potential to create similar educational opportunities. 8
With its unique voice and enlightening narrative, Rosalie Lightning is a great addition to the educational material available to palliative care practitioners, medical students, and residents who are looking to broaden their perspective on parental grief. Rosalie Lightning might also prove useful for the palliative care clinician, particularly for grieving parents and families who, as Hart puts it, are “not ready for people” yet (p. 107), but hope to break their isolation as they venture into the unknown.