A huge part of what helped me move forward was writing this book. When the pain was too much to bear, I wrote it down, and it kept me going. When I was writing it, I wasn’t thinking about what I was writing or whether it would be published or who would read it or how it would be received. I just wrote from the bottom of my guts about everything that was going on in this nightmare of a moment. I wrote the truth. And, often, the truth is ugly. This is why Instagram has filters.
My biggest fear in putting all of this out there is that I am dishonoring my brother and making him look bad by telling this part of his story. This is the last thing I’d ever want to do. It keeps me up at night. But people are flawed, and addiction is ugly, unflattering, and unapologetic. It’s a disease that has stolen hundreds of thousands of innocent lives, and the numbers are climbing. This is a story that starts with addiction and ends with grief. There’s no way to sugarcoat that. It’s what happened. And, ultimately, it’s the story I had to tell.
However, I hope it’s also clear from the book that Harris was the most incredible person I’ve ever known. And everyone who knew him felt this way. Like I said in my eulogy, he made the rest of us look bad. He was the funniest. He was the coolest. He had the most creative, inventive, limitless mind that was perpetually working. He was a true and tremendous talent who accomplished more in thirty years than most people accomplish in a lifetime. This is the Harris everyone will remember. And this is why this story is so unbearably tragic.
Mike and I are trying to have another baby. There’s nothing more hopeful than that, right? New life. When it happens, if it happens, we will name the baby after the boy who hung the moon: Harris.
Acknowledgments
Thank you first and foremost to my supportive, thoughtful, selfless, wonderful, strange husband who loves me through it all—the horrible, the wonderful, and every (rarely) dull moment in between. I wouldn’t be me without Mike. He’s the one who sat me down one day and introduced me to a website called Medium where I could pour out all of my feelings. He actively encouraged me to start writing and has stuck with me through every idea, draft, and painstaking revision from that point forward. I love you, Mike.
Thanks to Kate Lee at Medium for connecting me with my agent Rachel Sussman, without whom none of this would be happening. Rachel found an essay I’d posted, reached out to see if I had any desire to turn it into a memoir, and now many, many, many revisions later, here we are. I owe her a mountain of gratitude for guiding me through every step of this process. I am so fortunate to now have a stellar literary agent and an even better friend.
Thanks to my editor Shana Drehs for her patience, collaboration, and endless support along the way. This book wouldn’t be what it is without her talent and insight. I am so grateful to Shana and everyone at Sourcebooks for seeing the potential in this story and taking a chance on me! Thanks also to Liz Kelsch for all of her help on the PR front!
Thank you to my dear friends Chloe Gonzalez, Abby Koenig, and Jennifer Mathieu for reading drafts along the way and, more importantly, for always being in my corner.
Thank you to Aziz Ansari, Sarah Silverman, Mike Schur, Louis C.K., Jeff Ullrich, and Sarah Rayne for allowing me to publish your words, but more importantly for the love you showed my brother. Thanks to Rob Schrab and Robyn Von Swank for the powerful images. Thanks to Kulap & Scott, Dave Becky, Susan Hale, Michael & Deanna, Paul & Lesley, Tig Notaro, Alan Yang, Matt Marcus, Taal Douadi, Armen Weitzman, Danny Molad, Annie Stein, and the one and only Johnny Smith for always being there for the Wittels family.
Thanks to everyone in LA who showed up with boxes, packing tape, and love to help us pack up Harris’s house. It’s a kindness we will never forget.
Thanks to NBC for the assistance along the way.
Thank you to my wonderful in-laws, extended family, HSPVA family, and Rec Room family for all your love and support.
Thanks to Ganny and Grandma, who are no longer here in body but always here in spirit.
Iris once told me we have a bucket in our hearts, and that the people you love and who love you fill up your bucket. If that’s true, thanks to my amazing mom and dad for filling my bucket to the brim with a lifetime of unconditional love, support, laughter, and the courage to do what inspires me. Harris always used to say that we had great parents and that our childhood was perfect. It’s totally true. From the moment we opened our eyes, our parents pushed us to be authentically ourselves and to chase all of our crazy dreams. They paved the way, and I love them tremendously.
A special thanks to my dad for bleeding red ink on every paper I ever wrote growing up. In response to the question you posed after you read something I’d written years ago, “Yes, Dad, I do have to put an adjective before every noun.”
Thank you to my hilarious, sweet, and mighty little girl, Iris. I don’t understand how all of that personality fits into such a tiny body, but somehow it does. You are so special, and I am so proud of you. Thank you for saving my life and giving me a reason again and again and again every single day. You are my hero, baby girl, and I
