Dearest Bibs,
I can’t believe it’s been a year since that awful day when such a light was taken from this world, when the "bad vase" finally broke, when all the oxygen left the room. What I wouldn't give to see your face/ receive a new selfie/ hear that beloved, raspy voice/ share a laugh/ feel your love once more. So much has happened that I wish I could tell you about. Maybe you already know. Good news: my heart is still beating. But you knew, you always knew, I had it in me. That’s what you’ve been trying to tell me every day. Don’t stop—you know how forgetful I can be.
Neeta and I took a perfect mini-vacay to PR earlier this year. That little island, Isla Palominito, was where Jack sparrow left Angelica. I thought it pretty apropos that you chose that moment, sitting at the very tip, waves rolling in from both sides, to let me feel your presence. Thanks for stopping by to hang out with me for a bit. You have no idea how much that meant to me.
I had planned to visit Recife for your 1-year: meet your family, hug your mother tight, embarrass myself with my terrible/non-existent Portuguese, spend time with Alice, celebrate with your friends, maybe attempt to surf, hold your beautiful baby. Of course Rafaela would share the same birthday as my favorite person. (He’s doing better, by the way. We’ve all been through a lot in the past year, but he continues to make me proud.)
But... I’m not ready.
I was even tempted by ridiculously cheap flights, yet I couldn’t do it. I know you’re not mad, but I hope you’re not too disappointed. BroTan said that he thinks I’ll be “emotionally ready when it is the right time.” The force is strong with this one.
Timing was never my strong suit. I wish I knew when I’ll stop waiting to hear that familiar WhatsApp “ping”; for you to wake me up and tell me this was all just a bad dream. It is Tuesday, poker night (of course, I remember). You’ll Skype me after everyone has gone home, tell me about your day, your earnings (and how you’ll buy me some magnets), plans for the future. Of course, now, you would have responsibilities and obligations—I know I never told you this, but you’d be the most amazing father. And we will continue living our lives, fearless and loving as much as humanly possible. And so, life goes on.
I know; I've got this.
It’s been a long year, without you my friend, and I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again.
xVan
--the definition of love, courtesy of Her. Please go see it, if you haven’t already. In my opinion, it’s a beautiful, funny, and imaginative film about the relationships that make up our lives and how we choose to experience them. But I’m not really here to be a movie critic. I would, however, like to give credit where credit is due. So...
Marry me, Spike Jonze. Or, at the very least, let’s grab some coffee. Or make out a little. (Call me.)
Happiness is a choice, but I don’t believe love is. You can choose to care for someone, but love cannot be forced, nor can it be thought away. Being in love is pretty crazy. It’s insane to fall for someone so unexpectedly, so fast; to want, without warning, to share yourself with another being and explore life together. I feel crazy for still being in love with him, even though we’re no longer a couple. Whoever came up with the formula “it takes half the amount of time you were with someone to get over them,” was wrong, or clearly never fell in love with The Big Buck Hunter Ram Champion (local chapter).
It has been my goal this new year to start fresh, to live in the present, to allow myself to experience moments upon moments of joy, and not let things out of my control get the best of me. But fond memories of “heartbeats" shared in the brief time we spent together keep replaying in my mind, as if begging me not to forget. I have grown to possess a strong will and a well-seasoned ticker, so I know what I need to do to move on. Yet, I constantly find myself asking, "Why, if we can’t be together, must I keep holding on?" Then, I remember, “the past is just a story we tell ourselves.” And I realize the reason I refuse to let go is because this is my favorite love story (and I’ve read some good ones), and I want to keep reading it—I don’t want it to end. But we are only here briefly, so it’s time I start writing something new. And it’s also time I have a little more faith, because “everything will be alright in the end. If it’s not alright, it’s not yet the end."
You know, and I know... “I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved you… Now I know how."
As part of an application process, I was asked to share a time that I've recently created unexpected joy for someone.
Creating unexpected joy has been one of my lifelong mantras, or rather an art form I have been practicing for a very long time. I really just like bringing a smile to people's faces, or sometimes say that I just have so much love to give, but it could be as simple as the fact that "Joy" is my middle name. Really.
Unexpected joy comes in all forms. Birthdays might be my forte. I will be there for you: when you think all your friends have forgotten your birthday--I will take you to dinner at a romantic gastro-pub; or we will spend the day together, and bake pastries, drink some vino, and laugh at tales of dating disasters; I will rent a car, travel to Humboldt Park, parallel park with unexpected finesse, just to to buy you a case of your favorite hot sauce and ship it to you in NYC; or because you're a super-talented architect, living in London, but missing Chicago, I will send you the Lego versions of the Sears (W̶i̶l̶l̶i̶s̶) Tower and Big Ben.
It doesn't even have to be your birthday. Say you worked with MSF (Doctors Without Borders) in the South Sudan last year, and not only were you having a miserable day, but a difficult time all together, and you weren't sure if what you were doing was even making a difference in the grand scheme of things. But it was--it is. And my package (the letter, the little non-perishable gifts, every touch of love) that arrived on the truck has reminded you of that. Or that one time you were touring in town, and ended up with a sore throat, right before you were going to perform! You don't take medication, but a dose of four lemons works every time. Unfortunately, I only had one lemon, so I was on a quest to find three more lemons before heading across town to see your show. Crisis averted!
And I may not be the best tour guide, but I will make sure you feel welcome, not only in this fair city I call home, but in my circle of friends. I will spend time, as much as I have to give, to ensure that you have the best time possible, not just so you can tell all your friends and family in Montreal (or Taipei, or Columbus) how nice the people in Chicago are, but so that you have fond memories that will last a lifetime.
I realize that they had asked for me to share "a" time, but each one of these moments have put smiles on people's faces, and who am I to decide whose joy is more important? However, it is an application process, and therefore, I must show that I can follow directions.
That being said… I do hope that sometime soon, if I haven't in awhile, I can bring you some of this unexpected joy, and you can smile that beautiful smile of yours, that I love so much.
We were asked to think upon this question during yoga class this
evening. You're probably wondering why I am telling you this, but I was
so incredibly moved that I felt it an injustice to not share it with
the world (or the very least, with those I love).
At the
beginning of class, we were given a scrap of paper and a pen, and asked
to divide the page into two columns. In the first column, we were asked
to think of three people in our lives (could be real, could be
imaginary, could be friends/family, could be a famous person) that we
admire, and one descriptive word per person that describes the reason
why we admire them so. On the opposite column, we were to write down
the names of three different people who we find irritating, and again,
one descriptive word per
person that describes why we find them so. Set the paper aside.
As
we opened class, we were asked to tune in to how we define ourselves.
For the most part, we first look to our physical beings: 30 year-old,
short, single, Asian, female. And, I thought I had it one step further,
for some of you may recall my little bio blurb on my website and
resume. But we shouldn't confine ourselves to those definitions,
because all of that is limiting.
During our practice, I can't
remember if this was after a vinyasa sequence or after we did the
broken-toe pose, our yoga instructor asked us to think back to the three
positive descriptive words. She said to remove those names associated
with those words, and replace them with "I AM," for in reality, we were
describing ourselves. It is impossible to think this of others, if we
do not have this in ourselves. I could feel the emotions erupting
inside of me,
surfacing in tears that were threatening to loose themselves from my
eyes.
Further along the practice, as our physical bodies
connected with our spiritual bodies, she called upon a second
realization. This might've been during pigeon pose, while our foreheads
were resting, third eye closed, she asked us to repeat the same
thoughts, but now to the opposite column. Without judgment, without
self-criticism, we were to acknowledge that those irritating descriptors
were, in fact, a reflection of ourselves at times. Everyone has a
shadowy side--otherwise we wouldn't be human. We must strive for
balance, and detachment--be able to let go. Every situation, good or
bad, happy or sad, is an opportunity to learn. Just think to yourself,
"What am I supposed to learn from this situation?" We were asked that
throughout our daily living, as soon as we realize those negative ways
of being, to replace them with
the positive, and REALLY believe it. Because, what we believe is
true. If what you believe is your truth, then you must be careful of
what you are telling yourself.
So, who am I?
I am strong. I am resilient. I am patient.
I am spirit.
Who are you?
