In those letters, “It didn’t matter if they were a Republican or a Democrat, it didn’t matter where they lived, whether it was this country or another country, what their native language was, what their religion was—all of those were swept away,” Edwards says. “It was such an affirmation of our humanity, and as the recipient of that, I felt blessed.” Edwards’s memoir, “Saving Graces” (Doubleday), is her way of giving back to those people. In it she discusses the death of her son, Wade, at age 16, her husband’s political career and what it was like to be fighting a deadly disease while under media scrutiny as a candidate’s wife. She spoke with NEWSWEEK’S Jessica Bennett. Excerpts:
NEWSWEEK: Why’d you decide to publish such a personal memoir? Elizabeth Edwards: I’d heard all through the campaign, people say, “You’re so strong, I know you lost your son and yet you’re out here campaigning.” Or after the breast cancer was announced, people wrote and said, “You’re a picture of strength.” And I thought, “Alright, I’ve got to dispel this right now.” People have these irrational models for grief and they think that the people they see in the news are almost superheroes—and that they are inadequate in some way. I thought we needed a more realistic model. They need to see that people whose names they see in the paper are actually just like them, in a sense giving them permission to grieve like human beings grieve or to get frustrated with a treatment just like human beings do and feel despair. Plus, I learned a lot in going through these things that I did and I wanted to show people what worked for me.
Are you now in remission from your cancer? Yes … The real all-clear for me was this past summer, in June.
The subtitle of your book is “Finding Strength and Solace in Friends and Strangers.” Elaborate on what that means. My first support system was a husband, who was there and who took “in sickness and in health” very seriously. He was there all the time for me, every chemotherapy session, every surgery, taking care of the kids, making sure I went to radiation, taking care of me when I got back from radiation. So John first, and then my friends in Washington, who’d bring dinner and come over and do things with the children, and then, of course, I had this huge support from strangers.
Was part of taking on the book a way to give back to those who helped you? In the end of the book, I say that this book is a thank you for making my life as good as it is. Despite that bad things have happened to me—and they have—my life has been good, and I honestly feel blessed.
Has your experience with breast cancer changed your perspectives on treatments? There are some ways that it has. I’d actually done some work as fund-raiser and things like that about helping people not with their medical expenses but with all the other costs that are associated with having cancer. You know, you’re maybe more tired and need to have a babysitter, or you may not be able to go to work as often. I saw examples of that—women who were doing just what I was doing but without my support network, without a husband standing right there ready to help.
What do you think about the state of our country today? You know, I just sat next to a woman on the plane last night [who said to me], “I don’t know why anybody would want to be president right now.” It’s like every part of our lives that we look at, we need to do better. In every single part of it—healthcare, education, energy, foreign policy, this war—all of it. And [the woman] said, “How could anybody undertake something that huge?” And it was hard to argue with her. It’s not that we’re in the toilet—we’re not—but what it is is that we’re so far short of both what we remember and, more importantly, what’s possible. And it’s frustrating because I know what the impediments are to getting it right, and there are serious impediments. It doesn’t make me discouraged but it does make me tired when I think all that we need to do to get back on track.
Would you ever consider running for public office? I don’t think so. I like my role now, there’s a certain freedom in it, and it’s completely satisfying to say my piece when I have something to say. When I don’t have an opinion I don’t have to.
You talk a lot about the grieving process after your son died in a car accident in 1996. How did you get through that, and how did it influence your later decisions? What I was trying to do in the book was open up so people could see a lot of things about it. One is how total the experience is to your life. It’s like your life is a blackboard full of stuff: it’s your job, your friends, your family, your parents, your sister’s getting a divorce or your dog is sick—and then a child dies, and everything is gone. No other fact about you is important enough to put on the board. And what happens then is that you’re very careful the next time you pick up that chalk to write something on the board, because you understand the importance of each moment and choice you make. All the petty things, the little things, have no place on my board anymore. That’s made my life actually oddly better, in that respect, because I’m no longer consumed by the kinds of things that used to bother me before Wade died.
Was it at times hard sharing such personal stories knowing they’re now out there for the world to read? You’d think that it would be and I have to say that right before it came out I had this feeling of such dread, like I was so exposed, like I’d just walked out into the middle of Pennsylvania Avenue with no clothes on or something. But it was really important for me not to make it seem less hard or raw, either for the breast cancer or for Wade’s death. Because if the book was going to have a purpose it had to be completely honest.
Has it felt good knowing that it’s out there now? It’s felt good because I’ve gotten the feedback that I’ve gotten. People have said, “This made a difference to me.” The first reading I did was at a Barnes & Noble in New York and a women came in line and said, “I’m one of the people who wrote to you after your breast cancer. I’m a survivor.” She said, “We also lost our 16-year-old son, Alex. But what I really want to tell you is that when I got to the bookstore and bought the book, I opened to any page and remarked to my husband, ’look, I turned to 319, that’s my birthday, March 19’.” And there, on that page, I’d thanked her for having written me. And I mentioned Alex. She said, “You don’t know what it meant that his name is here in print.” But of course I did know what it meant. And I thought, “Well, I don’t need any more affirmation than that.” A lot of the book is about our obligation to hold each other up and here she had reached out to me, and without ever knowing that I would see her again, I reached back. Feeling exposed seems pretty small compared to that.
