30th Birthday

For the past 11 birthdays, I have had mixed emotions.

I’ve always felt a little sad, a little guilty.

Some people don’t like their birthday because they don’t like the attention, or the fact that they are aging.

For the past 11 years, I haven’t liked it because it means I am getting “further away” from Natalie.

I spent my 30th birthday earlier this month busy at work and then flying on an airplane with my BFF to Disneyland. I didn’t let myself stop and think about my sad association with birthdays for fear that I would get sad at the happiest place on earth.

But, today, I do.

Today is Natalie’s birthday. She would have turned 30 years old. But, I instead only have memories of a near-19-year-old. (Yes, she was only 18 when she passed away).

Sometimes I wish I even had videos of those memories. Because, as time passes, memories can change and even fade. I don’t want them to though.

I want to hold on to them for as long as possible.

Happy birthday, Natalia.

That crying girl on the bus

 

This is a photo taken on a sunny California day exactly two years ago from yesterday.

I wish I could say my family came together that day for a happy reason. It was quite the opposite.

But, I’ll get to that in a little bit.

****

Last week I was riding the bus to work in the morning, like I do every morning. The bus was crowded for a Friday. Passengers were standing and being packed into the #66 headed to downtown Seattle. Half-way through my ride I noticed someone sniffling loudly. I looked up from my phone and saw a young woman crying.

The reason I was keen to figure out who the sniffler was, was because I wanted to stay as far away as possible and not catch any germs. I already banked in my one cold of the year at the beginning of the month!

She looked to be about my age, maybe a few years younger, or one or two older. I didn’t recognize her as a regular rider. (You know, the same people you see on your bus day in and day out?) But, she caught my attention because as she sniffled, she had streams of tears rolling down her cheeks.

Like I said, the bus was packed so there was a man sitting next to her, and two people directly across from her. I was one “row” behind her but I had direct view of her face because she was seated in that middle “accordion” section of the bus where the seats face inward.

She had her iPhone glued to her ear as whoever was on the other end was breaking the sad news to her. It had to be sad news. Every so often she tried to blot her eyes with her sleeve. She actually wasn’t making too much noise. She wasn’t talking much and when she did talk, it was very soft and mumbled. I couldn’t hear what she had to say.

A part of me wanted to not stare. But, a part of me was also transfixed on this situation.

I started to become very sad.

Not many people cry publicly on a bus.

And, if it was some unreasonable angry situation, you would be yelling back over the phone; not be sitting quietly.

This scenario was all too familiar to me.

I’ve been that crying girl on the bus.

About a month before that quick visit to California — yes, the one where that photo above was taken — I received a call while riding the bus to work.

My dad called to tell me that my uncle had died. He had committed suicide. I felt like I was having one of those moments when life isn’t real. When you are having a nightmare and are just waiting to wake up.

Our beloved family member, who we had no idea was in need of help, had left us.

That sunny beach in California is where we had all gathered for his memorial service.

Feelings of disbelief and shock and deep sadness came rolling back to me as I looked on at this stranger who was crying on the bus. I had to stop starring for fear that I was going to start crying right then and there myself.

And, maybe her situation was nothing.

But, people do not cry over nothing on the bus.

I wanted to walk over and give her a hug, or at the very least a tissue.

Be kind to those around you. Make sure your loved ones truly know that they are loved. Tell others how you feel. If you know of someone in need of help, be there to help and support him or her.

And, if you ever see a girl (or guy) crying on the bus, be nice.

 

Dear Natalie

Dear Natalie,

I can’t believe it’s been nine years.

Nine entire years that I have been living and breathing and running and having fun — all without you.

I always dread this day, May 2nd. I’ve been so busy lately that I almost forgot. But, I don’t think I ever could. Yesterday when I realized that it was officially May, I knew right away what the next day would mean. I suddenly had a knot in my stomach and my eyes began to water as I drove to work.

I know you don’t want us to wallow and be sad. I know that I have to move on.

Never did I imagine that the mourning process would continue on like this. They say when a loved one passes, it gets easier as the years go by. I still don’t quite understand this concept.

I’m doing the Eugene Marathon next weekend and Joanna will be doing Ragnar Cape Cod. I know you’ll be our biggest remote cheerleader. We also have big marathon plans for next year, which we’ll let you know about when we have it all figured out.

Thank you for always being such a great friend.

I miss you.

Mucho love,

Kristin

Kids will be kids

Usually songs or smells are triggers. Not a billboard on the big intersection you go through every day on your drive home from work.

In fact, I’m not even sure if the billboard advertisement was new or if it had been there for weeks. But, I noticed it for some reason yesterday. It’s probably because I was second in line at the red stop light, waiting to turn left. (It’s this crazy intersection where five directions/roads meet. If you get stopped at red, you could be waiting for a bit).

Kids will be kids. We’ll make sure of it.

The two short sentences struck me instantly. I didn’t even have time to think. I was crying. I was waiting for the light to turn green and tears were streaming down my face.

Next to this simple phrase was a picture of a little girl. It was a closeup and her face was covered in dirt and her hair was disheveled. Clearly, she was having fun being a kid.

I couldn’t stop crying. I kept re-reading these two sentences over and over again in my head. As if by the fifth time, maybe it wouldn’t be as sad. It wouldn’t be as poignant. The light signal seemed like it was taking forever to change colors.

This was a billboard advertisement for the local children’s hospital. And, in my opinion, it does a good job getting their message across. This hospital will take care of your kids — so that they can continue to be kids.

But, what if that doesn’t happen?

What if the kid’s life is cut short?

What if the kid never gets a chance to grow up, to graduate college, to get a job and be married and have a family of her own one day?

These were the questions spiraling in my head.

The light finally changed and I followed the car in front of me up the hill toward my house. I was surprised that all these memories and pain came flooding back to me from one small piece of advertisement.

Yes, it was the same hospital she was getting her care at.

Yes, at the time, even at 17, she was still a kid. We were all kids.

But, it’s been nine years. Isn’t the mourning period supposed to be over?

Maybe it’s never over for those who have made a significant impact on your life. For those who truly were the best friend they could be to their friends.

Natalie, I’m thinking of you. 

The camping and running in downpours, the iron-on T-shirts, the graphic design-y stuff, and just the act of being nice to everyone … I will always remember everything you taught us and all the fun we had as kids.

I’ll make sure of it.

Thoughts, time, loss and love

Broken heart. Thinking of him. Miss him.

These are difficult hashtags to see on my feed.

Sometimes, we can never truly understand one another.

But, we can always be there for each other.

My family has taught me this over the course of the past year.

The holidays are supposed to be a happy, merry time.

They still can be.

We will just have to hold each other closer.

And remember the good memories.

So,

Even when you are at your lowest, know that you are always loved.

And that there is always someone you can turn to.

Not many want to openly discuss depression. But, it is real.

These feelings and emotions are real. This pain is real. These tears are real.

His pain was real.

I’m trying my best to forgive and I know I truly will one day.

 

Uncle, we deeply miss you. Aloha ‘Oe.