was how humble, warm, and kind Nita was when I was introduced to her moments later—she simply glowed.
She is the kind of person who walks into a room and lights it up. This woman was, well, wow . . . perfect. Mary Poppins perfect. I wondered what man might be lucky enough to call her his own. Two minutes later I found out.
Don LaFontaine walked into the room and everyone immediately felt his presence. Though his charm and charisma were off the charts and he was dressed immaculately, I was overtaken by his rich, deep voice, but also surprised by how gentle he was with it.
At the event later that evening, both Don and Nita noticed my nervousness and took it upon themselves to make me feel welcome and more at ease. I feel lucky to have met them then, and even more fortunate to have continued my relationship with them over the years as they have invited me into their home and into their lives.
When I found out Don had passed I was devastated … devastated for his children, devastated for Nita, and devastated for anyone who had the privilege to know him. He was a good man and we lost both a huge talent and an irreplaceable friend when we said goodbye to Don LaFontaine.
I can’t imagine what it would feel like to lose my voice, just as I can’t imagine the depth of sadness that Nita and the kids felt losing Don. What I really can’t imagine is having the Nita’s courage and fortitude to show us her journey through these past years. Her strength is an inspiration to all of us and her story tells us that with faith and love we will overcome any challenges that we face, even in the darkest of times.
Michael Bublé
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Starting this journey began for me when I went raw and wounded by grief to a writing workshop led by Jackie Parker. She gently drew out my stories and told me they were “too rich to keep.” I was inspired by her words—and those of many in my close circle—to share what I was learning. Jackie gave me the confidence and guidance to begin. You cheered for me all the way. Later, I was led to another light- being angel who would help me bring this book to readers. She has a lilting laugh and a gentle nature and a tad of a Southern drawl; we connected instantly. That person is my new dear friend, editor and project manager, Jessica Swift of Swift Ink Editorial. Truly she has helped me birth this baby. Your tutelage and further guidance have been essential to shaving the rough edges and helping me to focus my story of love, and to walking me through the process. You’ve been so amazing, quick, smart, funny. And thank you for connecting me with your brilliant book designer Sara Dismukes who added her lovely design touch that made the book feel whole and real. This book would not be a book without each of you. Thank you.
There are so many people who have stood by us in this storm of life. My dad, Green Whitaker Sr., continues to show me faith in action. He so lives in the assuredness of his faith that he inspires me daily. My immediate family, Kathy Scott, Alene Bryce, Green Jr., Aunt Lillian Whitaker, and Dr. Lee Whitaker were there every step of the way through the darkest early moments. You gave so much of your heart, your time, and yourselves to make sure the girls and I were on the road with big backpacks of love from you all.
Paul Pape: my Donnie was your best friend and your relationship stood thirty years. The two of you played off each other’s sarcasm and silliness, coupled with years of poker games and Scrabble contests.You made my boy laugh and he, you, and you were standing beside me in the ending moments.
My closest brothers and friends of my heart, Charles Randolph Wright and Adam (Aeyjay) Jackson Jr. (and family) have been loving supports for me and the girls with Adam checking on us every single day and Charles showing up and staying with us when he visited.You were Don’s great friends and brothers.You have been there for the girls when they needed a father-figure to impart some wisdom or just to watch over them. What a great support for the three of us since Donnie’s been gone. Deb Gates and Johnnie Stewart: you covered me with your prayers when my voice was gone.
I want to acknowledge and thank the kind folks that took the time to read what the book was about and give their sincere comments. It means so much to have your votes of confidence and insights for the book going forward; that this book resonated with you helps me know it will find its place in the hearts of others. Michael Bublé, one of America’s favorite voices, thank you for writing the foreword and blessing the book. To Josh Groban, you are as stellar a young man as your voice is mellifluous; thank you. Pastor Larry, Nancy, Mark, Wink, Margaret, David, and Ben, I thank each and every one of you for the gift of your words to the book and the honor you give to the love Don and I shared. May your lives continue to be richly blessed.
Don’s doctors who became his friends over the years: Dr. Asher Kimchi and Dr. Leslie Stricke, both from Cedars-Sinai hospital, you gentlemen are stellar physicians and cared for Don beyond the call of duty. Asher, you visited Don as a friend, not as a doctor … just to sit and talk, which meant so much to us. And to Dr. Heather Jones who fought valiantly with us in those last nine days to keep Don here with us, you are brilliant, kind, and loving.
Jeff Hill and Maria Herrera who have been with my family for thirteen-plus years, helping to make lunches, helping drive kids to appointments, helping me keep the house clean and in order, and running countless errands—you are an extension of our family. It helped so much that we had two loving and trustworthy people in the day-to-day trenches with us.
Pastor Larry Keene: your gentle guidance from the moment we met to the day we laid Don to rest has been a great source of strength for me.You married us, baptized our children and Don, then followed with the ultimate gift of speaking his eulogy in a way that was incredibly uplifting though we felt so heavy.Your wisdom, kindness, and Divine understanding have helped my family and me throughout the years. Thank you, too, Virginia.
My beautiful daughters Skye and Liisi: you are my proudest works, my biggest blessings, and the best decision Don and I ever made.You both illuminate my life. And Christine, bonus daughter, I learned a lot from your growth. To Don’s agents, Steve Tisherman and Vanessa Gilbert; for the friends that came with food, banners, time, and love, there are not words large enough to express how humble I feel and how blessed we’ve been to be in such a village of prayer warriors that held us up, championed us forward, and cherish Don as much as we do. Thank you, thank you, and thank you!
INTRODUCTION
My parents told me that before words were clear in my three-year-old vocabulary, I sang. Just threw my head back and made “ahh” sounds on pitch with whatever was on the car radio, in church, or in the community “old one hundreds,” where the whole rural Louisiana church would join in and sing call-and-response. I sang before I can remember, and for all my forty-plus years since—I’ve been blessed in all that time to never once lose my voice. Despite colds and swollen vocal chords, I could still produce some singing sound without great effort.
Nineteen years before I found my voice, there was a little curly haired boy in a sleepy Midwestern town who memorized encyclopedias and could come out of a movie quoting its lines and even singing some of the songs. At age thirteen and only four eleven, his voice suddenly changed mid-sentence into a deep, authoritative tone. And for more than forty years, that voice never failed him. Through more than five thousand movie trailers, hundreds of thousands of tags, and TV and radio spots, he never lost his voice.
That voice almost seemed like a given. Even throughout radiation and chemo- therapy, his voice continued announcing five days a week. Even after medicines, illness, and, finally, death silenced him, Don’s voice continued to reverberate around the world. Only after he was physically voiceless, did I, too—literally and figuratively—lose my own voice.
In an effort to find my voice again after Don died I began sending emails to a close group of friends. Writing these emails evolved into a way through the
