At thirteen years old Lynda's life comes to a disastrous halt when her mother and two younger sisters are killed in a plane crash. Her father, overcome by despair, simply continues to exist in a state devoid of hope. After burying a wife and two young children at the age of 44, the overwhelming responsibility of raising a daughter alone completely immobilizes him.

Teetering on that tender brink between childhood and adolescence, Lynda faces the responsibility of a father in a complete state of shock, a house to take care of and hundreds of decisions about how to proceed with their shattered lives.

In Repairing Rainbows, she candidly describes the agonizing memories, deafening silence and endless hardships that ar the fallout of incredible loss. As we follow her through marriage, motherhood and her own spiritual journey. Lynda reveals her complex feelings of hope, anger, pity and determination. Most importantly, she learns the crucial difference between truly living and the existence that is so often mistaken for being alive.

A true story, written by a woman whose normal and abundant life hides a terrible past, Repairing Rainbows is loaded with lessons that will undoubtedly touch the hearts of its readers.

- Back cover blurb

Normally I like memoirs, especially those featuring people who have overcome great obstacles to become happy, successful human beings. So, Repairing Rainbows by Lynda Fishman should have been right up my alley. Unfortunately, after 50 pages, I just didn't feel a compelling need to read any further. To me, the book lacked focus, meandering along with too much detail and not enough structure.

Just because Repairing Rainbows didn't appeal to me doesn't mean it won't be the perfect read for you. It gets rave reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. Book bloggers also seem to be enjoying it (you can check out their reviews on the author's website). More opinions about the book will be forthcoming as Fishman's virtual tour with Tribute Books continues. Considering all these glowing reviews, it's possible my impatience with the book is just a me thing. That happens. A lot.

Oh well.