Life of MALA: March 2014

Two weeks ago my father came to visit me. It was perfect timing since it was the one year anniversary of my mother moving up to heaven and I really didn't want to be alone. It was a fantastic week full of cocktails, relaxation, and father-daughter bonding. On his last day we woke up early, had our coffee, and headed off to the ferry. To spend every last minute with him, I took the ferry over to St. Thomas and then hopped in the 40 minute shuttle ride with him to the airport before finally saying goodbye. Minus trashing the house a few times in high school and backing my sister's car into his truck on Christmas morning a few years ago, I really am a good daughter.

I got into the shuttle with a hot dog and strawberry daiquiri I had purchased at the ferry bar (Remember when I used to be healthy?) and squeezed between my father and a nice blonde woman. As I dissected my hot dog the woman next to me noticed the tattoo on my hand and asked me what it was for. I told her it was my mom's handwriting and I had gotten it after she passed away to feel like she was still holding my hand. The woman started to tear up and immediately apologized for being "so emotional." I told her not to worry, I was a very emotional person myself. A few minutes later in the conversation the woman told me she had lost her son five years ago. He had been killed after being deployed in Afghanistan. She told me about an amazing organization that was started in his memory called "Small Steps in Speech." Her son was engaged at the time and his fiancée was a speech pathologist. Before he had passed away he had ideas of her starting her own private practice with this name and after he was killed they decided to continue with the vision. The organization provides grants for children with speech and language disorders for services aimed to assist in their communication abilities. I told her a bit about The Grattitude Project and how I had used it as a crutch for going through my own loss of a loved one. Helping others have a more positive view on the world was helping me too. We talked the entire ride to the airport. Towards the end of the ride I asked her what her favorite part of her trip was and she said the day she went kayaking. She told me the kayak guide looked and acted so much like her son who had been killed and how it was even more crazy that he also had the same name as her son. Once hearing the name I told her I actually knew who she was talking about - he was one of my first friends on the island. I also knew he had been through his own family tragedy and we talked briefly about that. I couldn't believe the amount of connections we had made in such a short period of time. When the shuttle pulled up to the airport we got out and she gave me a huge hug. Then she stepped back and put out her hand for me to shake and said "By the way, I'm Mary."

A few days later I went out for a drink in town with my roommate. Since she was mid-cleanse, I was doing the drinking for both of us. After throwing back a few cocktails I happened to notice a bride and groom at the bar and figured I would go congratulate them quickly. Naturally, this turned into us all taking a shot of Fireball whiskey and having a heart to heart for the three hours following that shot. I found out that both of them had tragically lost family members. The girl had lost her sister after a freak accident when she fell out of a window and the boy's brother who was mentally ill had murdered their parents and then killed himself. I was left in shock. I couldn't believe how sweet and kind these two people were after hearing what they had gone through. I sat there in awe as they were able to focus on how lucky they were to find each other and how much love they still had to give despite everything. It was inspiring.

Two weeks before I left Manhattan I went out on a random date with a boy. It wasn't so much that I had time to be dating, or that it was realistic to start seeing someone before I move, but I just love dates. Something about getting to go out with someone who doesn't know anything about you and just tell stories all night is so much fun to me. I know a lot of people hate it, the idea of having to "start all over" when they first go out with people after just getting out of a long relationship. But not me, I love it. I love meeting new people and I welcome distractions. Halfway through our date he had to use the bathroom and when he left I noticed the girl next to me was also alone waiting on her date to return from the bathroom also. We made eye contact and she asked me what I had gotten to eat. We talked a bit more before she noticed my tattoo. A few minutes later I found out her mother had also died of breast cancer last March. We ended up all talking more once our dates got back. I felt instantly close to this complete stranger because of this shared knowledge of life after you lose a loved one, especially your mother.

Despite the few difficult humans I have encountered in the last year of my life, the majority of people I have met seem to all share a connection. I honestly think that the universe lines things up in a way for us to meet certain people. Every person I talk to lately has a story, a tragedy. Whether it was a family member or friend, and whether it was cancer, murder, suicide, or accident, I have seemed to engage mostly with people who understand loss and understand how important it is to live. People who know what it feels like to have a little piece of your heart removed...forever.

There is a quote that I love: "Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle you know nothing about." I think we should always, always remember this when we meet people (especially the people at the DMV). We don't know what anyone has gone through, we know nothing of their battle. We might get frustrated because they were a little short with us but we don't know what they just went through. It's best to always be kind. Or if you're me, and you're a lot more like you're mother than you usually realize, you talk to them. Talk to strangers. Connect with them. Find out their stories. Because in the end, it's the most comforting thing in the world. In the end, you find out you're not alone.

Dad's visit!