You Can't Play Ball with an Angel

On September 11, 2001, my world changed forever. My husband, Seth Morris, was taken from us in the attacks on the World Trade Center. In a single morning, I became a widow and the sole parent to our three beautiful children—Madilynn, Kyle, and Hayley—who were just nine, seven, and five years old. The days and months that followed were filled with heartbreak, confusion, and the enormous responsibility of helping my children navigate their grief while trying to navigate my own. In time, healing began—slowly, imperfectly, but surely. And with that healing came the quiet, complicated possibility of opening my heart again. When I began to date, I searched for a gentle, age-appropriate way to talk to my children about what it meant. I looked for a children's book that spoke directly to children whose surviving parent was choosing to love again, not because anyone could replace the parent they had lost, but because love and life can still grow after loss. But I couldn't find the book I needed—so I wrote one. You Can't Play Ball with an Angel was born from a moment with one of my brave children, who came to understand that angels simply couldn't play ball. That moment became the heart of this story; an acknowledgment of both the longing for what was and the hope for what is still to come. The man in this book, known as Mack, is inspired by my now-husband, Mark. His love, patience, and understanding helped all of us find joy again. Together, Mark and I were blessed with our miracle baby, Caroline Faith. Caroline's due date was September 11th, 2007 and she arrived on the 10th. Surely, a message from the heavens and a beautiful reminder that life, in all its fullness and joy, continues. This book is for every child who has loved and lost, and for every parent walking the brave and loving path forward. With love and understanding, Lynn Morris-Piccolo