Bookpleasures.com is pleased to welcome Kim Danielson, author of the powerful new memoir Piece by Piece: A Life Remembered through Things Lost, as our guest on Bookpleasures.com.

In her book, Kim transforms a traumatic home burglary into a thoughtful reflection on memory, grief, and what it means to hold on to our past.

When thieves took a lifetime of priceless heirlooms, Kim lost more than just jewelry. She lost the physical links to her history and to loved ones who have passed away. Rather than give in to the loss, she started writing, using each stolen item to help tell the stories of her life.

The idea of finding healing after loss is important not just in her writing but also in her life. Kim has worked as a public defender and a corporate attorney, and she founded a nonprofit that helps teachers affected by cancer.

We’re excited to have her with us today to discuss her journey, the power of storytelling, and how beauty can emerge from loss.

Kim, welcome to Bookpleasures. 

Norm: Your bio says you’ve worked both as a public defender and a corporate attorney. How did your legal background, which is focused on facts and evidence, shape the way you wrote a memoir that’s based on emotion and personal memory?

As a former public defender, did you try to understand or imagine the humanity of the people who broke into your home, as you describe in one chapter?

Kim: Gathering evidence and gathering memories require the same care and attention. 

Although my personal memories don’t have the requisite objective proof a legal case requires, I still looked for a narrative and organized the memories the same way I would build a case. I’m sure that others did not experience things in the same way I did, but I held myself accountable to the truth as I lived it. 

I certainly thought about former clients who had been accused of this exact crime. My public defender experience taught me how important it is to consider not only a person’s circumstances, but his or her humanity, and I think I tried to do the same with the people who broke into my home. I wanted to make sense of something so senseless because I hated not knowing how and why it happened.  And honestly, I wanted to assuage my own guilt because I felt responsible. 

Norm: Your memoir has a unique structure, using each stolen item as a way into a specific memory. When did you realize that this traumatic event could become the basis for a book?

Was it complicated to organize your life story around these objects, or did the memories tied to each item help shape the story naturally?

Kim: This theft devastated me in a way that I could not understand. My feelings about it seemed so disproportionate to the loss itself.  But after searching so desperately for months, and with a stalled police investigation, I realized I needed to find another way forward past my anger and sadness.

The original draft of this book was a numbered list of stolen items requested by the police. One day, several months after the burglary, I revisited that list and started writing the origins and memories associated with each piece. 

In that sense, I’d say the structure was built-in from the start. It wasn’t until I laid the stories side by side that I could see how, when threaded together, they might become a memoir. 

While the structure emerged naturally, the organization of the stories required more intentionality. I initially arranged them chronologically, but through many revisions and edits, I found a narrative arc that better served the memoir and reshaped the order of the stories.

Norm: Writing a memoir involves a lot of remembering. How did you recall the details of these stories? Did you rely only on your memory, or did you also look at old photos, journals, or talk with family members?

While doing this, did you find any memories that surprised you or that you saw differently than before?

Kim: Initially I relied on my own memory, but as I wrote, I discovered gaps and questions I couldn’t answer on my own. I found a lot of answers in old journals, scrapbooks, and photo albums. I spent a lot of time sitting in my attic with my hope chest. 

Conversations with family members and friends also filled in some blanks. Those conversations are one of my favorite silver linings of this whole experience because I never would have had them if the burglary hadn’t happened. 

It brought me closer to aunts and uncles and cousins, and I learned so much about my grandparents and other extended family members. Those talks gave me such a richer picture of my past. 

I think one of the most interesting things about this kind of excavation—especially in conversations with other people—is how two people can have different memories of the same experience. 

For example, I share so many of my childhood memories with my two brothers, but we each remember with different lenses and recall unique details. 

It’s fascinating how memory works and what one person holds onto is different than another person, even though they both were at the same place at the same time. 

Norm: Many people hear “it’s just stuff” after a theft or loss, but your book shows why that phrase doesn’t capture the real feeling. Can you talk about the struggle between being grateful your family was safe and still grieving for these lost objects?

What do you hope readers learn from your message that it’s okay to grieve for possessions that have deep sentimental value?

Kim: It really was a struggle, caught between being grateful everyone was safe and being devastated about what I’d lost. I kept telling myself (and everyone around me): “It’s okay, we’re okay, and that’s all that matters.” And I believed that to be absolutely true. Our safety was and is all that matters. 

Yet, I couldn’t deny the heartache. It wasn’t until the writing of the book that I allowed myself the possibility that both things could be true. I could be grateful for my family’s security and also grieve the loss of these objects. And the grief wasn’t unreasonable. 

These objects mattered to me because they reminded me of people I loved and important events in my life. 

They were artifacts of my own history and without them I felt untethered. So, yes, it’s okay to grieve for our precious things, because what makes them precious is exactly why the loss hurts so much.

Norm: Your relationship with your mother is a central part of the book, and losing her ring seems to be at the heart of your loss. What was it like to revisit your special memories with her, as well as the pain of her illness and death, while writing?

Did writing about her help you feel close to her, or did it sometimes remind you of her absence in a painful way?

Kim: Writing this book helped me grieve the grief I never grieved but needed to. When she died, my kids were young, and my husband traveled a great deal for work. I didn’t give myself the space and time to just sit and be a daughter who missed her mom. 

I think I pushed a lot of those feelings into a corner of my heart, but of course, they didn’t go away. Revisiting memories of her certainly brought that grief back into the open. It was hard at times to keep going back, especially to her death. 

As many times as I read that chapter during the editing and revising process, I don’t think I ever made it through it without crying. But I think I needed to face the grief I’d ignored, and writing helped me do that. In the end, this book brought me peace, comfort, and healing. I’m so grateful for it.

Norm: You talk about wanting to pass these heirlooms down and continue a legacy. In the end, your book becomes a new, and maybe more lasting, heirloom. Was that what you intended?

How has your idea of what a family heirloom means, and what you want to pass on to your sons, changed after this experience?

Kim: I don’t think that’s what I intended when I began writing it, but it is exactly what it became. I started writing because the investigation kept hitting dead ends, and I simply couldn’t move forward. 

I turned to writing because writing has always helped me whenever I feel stuck. I don’t think my idea of what a family heirloom means has changed; I think I’ve just learned to appreciate how important a story is to an heirloom. 

That’s what makes an heirloom priceless, regardless of its monetary value. And those stories die with us if we don’t tell them. The heirlooms become simply “something that someone in the family once had,” instead of these precious vaults of memory and meaning. 

Norm: Memoir writers often have to balance telling their own story with sharing parts of their loved ones’ stories. How did you handle writing about your husband and your sons?

Did your family read the manuscript while you were writing it? How did they feel about seeing their lives and memories shared in your book?

Kim: My family members were certainly were in the back of my mind the whole time. I hope I handled them with care and love, as that was my intention. My husband and a few family members read an early draft, and everyone was very encouraging and supportive about it. 

I think it was hard for me to write and constantly revisit some of the sad parts in revision,  especially the memories about my mom, but I believe I honored her memory. I thought a lot about her, too, wondering what she would think about it. 

She probably would have hated the attention, but I think she would have been proud. If I hadn’t written those stories about her, then they would have died with me, and that would be heartbreaking. 

Norm: Losing items is hard, but a home invasion can also deeply affect your sense of safety. Can you talk about your emotional and mental journey to feel secure in your home again?

Is that feeling of lost safety something that ever goes away, or have you learned to live with it over time?

Kim: Yes, my sense of safety in my home was shaken, and I don’t think that feeling ever really goes away. Those first few nights were especially tough, and my imagination ran wild. 

Even though I kept trying to reassure myself there was no reason for them to come back, I couldn’t stop imagining it. It was such an unsettling feeling in the place I felt the most comfortable. Time has definitely helped, as it usually does. 

And, of course, I am so very grateful that nobody was hurt and that my kids didn’t feel the burden to the extent that I did. With this book, I’ve come to peace with all of it, so while I think this experience will stay with me, the edges aren’t so sharp. 

Norm: You describe the frustrating process of searching pawn shops and online sites. What did that search, even though it didn’t lead to your items, teach you about hope, closure, and this kind of crime?

Was there a moment when you realized you had to stop searching and find another way to move forward?

Kim: The search process was exhausting and so defeating, like looking for a needle in a haystack while someone keeps adding hay to the pile. I made a list of stores in the Denver metro area and even after months of visiting them, I had barely made a dent. 

I realized I could probably look forever and never find them. The police told us that most often with stolen jewelry, the thieves break down the pieces and immediately ship the valuables out of state or country. 

It took me some time, but eventually I surrendered to that reality. That's when I turned to writing—not to find the objects, but to understand why losing them hurt so much.

Norm: Where can readers learn more about you and your book, Piece by Piece: A Life Remembered through Things Lost?

Kim: To learn more about me and the book, please visit MY WEBSITE and follow me on Instagram @kimdanielsonwrites. I also write weekly reflections on my Substack called The Unexpected Sacred.

Norm: As we wrap up, what is the most important message you hope readers take from Piece by Piece? If you could give one piece of advice to someone who has just lost their own treasured keepsakes, what would it be?

Kim: Thank you so much for such thoughtful questions. The most important message I hope readers take away is that the stories of our most precious things can tell the stories of our lives. 

If I could give one piece of advice, I’d say to start with one keepsake and write about what it means to you. Answer questions like: Who gave it to you? What memories does it evoke when you think about it? Why do you consider it treasured? Oh, and make sure you type up the story and save it somewhere it can’t be lost. 

Norm: Thanks once again and good luck with all of your future endeavors