Life is Short, But It's Wide.
I left Texas on Monday morning. Monday, October 12th, to be exact. My father drove me to the airport. All I could think about on the drive there was the last time we'd gone in that exact same car, except my whole family was with me. My mother forced my brother up and harassed everyone into the car at like 4:30 in the morning, last time. She'd spent the previous weeks before I left talking about how oh, my dad would cry at the airport and she would have to take care of him. Of course, she burst into tears when I went to go through security and didn't bring any tissues. She gave me a huge hug and cried on my shoulder and said an in-joke that I won't bother explaining here. I want to keep it for us for a while, like a secret I have with her. I didn't cry, last time. I was sad to leave them, but so excited to go forward on my adventure. I didn't cry until I was actually leaving for Japan, sitting in the Vancouver airport a week later. Secretly, I wanted to transfer all my yen to dollars and go home, home to the people who love me. Home to the people I love. But I got on the plane and went forward.
This time, I did cry. My dad and I cried together, and then he left because nothing was open and we didn't want to stand there with our loss anymore. I told him to go on home. It broke my heart to see that she wasn't there to take care of him, or of me. This time, I was not excited to go forward. I wanted to go back to the first time and have her there with me.
I went through security and hung around the Austin airport, buying last-minute gifts and eating some breakfast. I got on the plane and the ride was uneventful, then I had an hour in Dallas before leaving for Tokyo.
On the plane to Tokyo, there was this flight attendant. Her name was...maybe Joyce? I can't remember, I took some Tylenol PMs and crashed out, but she kept coming by - she remembered my name after asking it, she fussed over me, she was so incredibly kind. I didn't tell her what had happened, I just reveled in the motherly feeling. It made a very hard flight a little easier, to have a touch of kindness there.
After I landed at Narita I shipped my bags to my apartment and bought a ticket on the Narita Express to Yokohama, figuring I deserved a little luxury in train form. I was on my way to see a friend who needed me. She reads this, and I must confess that I needed her far more, I went to support her and she supported me. It meant so much, this kindness of a friend. She hugged me and held me and cried with me when I cried.
On the train to Yokohama, I sat next to an older woman. She was really chatty and spoke fluent English. She was amazing - she's lived on every continent except Antarctica and was on her way back from Toronto - she now lives a few months in Toronto and a few in Tokyo. She told me living in different cultures was good for the soul. I told her I'd lost my mother, and was planning to move home, and she told me the same thing had happened to her while living in Italy, she lost her father and had to fly home to the funeral. She held my hand a little and said "Now, you must be with your family, and later you can have more adventures." She reminded me that life is amazing, and wonderful. She told me that she moves every two or three years because she gets bored.
She reminded me of my mother.
Since I returned to Japan, I have been taken care of by amazing friends, people that love me and care for me. I am reminded that even when life is hard, life goes on. People here are good, and until I leave at the end of December, I will have adventures with these amazing people.
I am grateful for the opportunities given to me. I am grateful that I had my mother for 26 years. Life is good, and long, and amazing. Right now I am hurting and sad and a little angry, but that is all part of living, of existing.
If she were here, my mother would give me one of her fantastic hugs and tell me she was sorry I was so sad. She would want me to keep being who I am, to fearlessly be myself. She would encourage me. I miss her, every second. But I know that it's time to start moving forward, and to have fun, and laugh, laugh, laugh.
We had the same laugh. I wouldn't honor her properly if I didn't use it as much as possible.
This time, I did cry. My dad and I cried together, and then he left because nothing was open and we didn't want to stand there with our loss anymore. I told him to go on home. It broke my heart to see that she wasn't there to take care of him, or of me. This time, I was not excited to go forward. I wanted to go back to the first time and have her there with me.
I went through security and hung around the Austin airport, buying last-minute gifts and eating some breakfast. I got on the plane and the ride was uneventful, then I had an hour in Dallas before leaving for Tokyo.
On the plane to Tokyo, there was this flight attendant. Her name was...maybe Joyce? I can't remember, I took some Tylenol PMs and crashed out, but she kept coming by - she remembered my name after asking it, she fussed over me, she was so incredibly kind. I didn't tell her what had happened, I just reveled in the motherly feeling. It made a very hard flight a little easier, to have a touch of kindness there.
After I landed at Narita I shipped my bags to my apartment and bought a ticket on the Narita Express to Yokohama, figuring I deserved a little luxury in train form. I was on my way to see a friend who needed me. She reads this, and I must confess that I needed her far more, I went to support her and she supported me. It meant so much, this kindness of a friend. She hugged me and held me and cried with me when I cried.
On the train to Yokohama, I sat next to an older woman. She was really chatty and spoke fluent English. She was amazing - she's lived on every continent except Antarctica and was on her way back from Toronto - she now lives a few months in Toronto and a few in Tokyo. She told me living in different cultures was good for the soul. I told her I'd lost my mother, and was planning to move home, and she told me the same thing had happened to her while living in Italy, she lost her father and had to fly home to the funeral. She held my hand a little and said "Now, you must be with your family, and later you can have more adventures." She reminded me that life is amazing, and wonderful. She told me that she moves every two or three years because she gets bored.
She reminded me of my mother.
Since I returned to Japan, I have been taken care of by amazing friends, people that love me and care for me. I am reminded that even when life is hard, life goes on. People here are good, and until I leave at the end of December, I will have adventures with these amazing people.
I am grateful for the opportunities given to me. I am grateful that I had my mother for 26 years. Life is good, and long, and amazing. Right now I am hurting and sad and a little angry, but that is all part of living, of existing.
If she were here, my mother would give me one of her fantastic hugs and tell me she was sorry I was so sad. She would want me to keep being who I am, to fearlessly be myself. She would encourage me. I miss her, every second. But I know that it's time to start moving forward, and to have fun, and laugh, laugh, laugh.
We had the same laugh. I wouldn't honor her properly if I didn't use it as much as possible.