The Lost Traveler and her Wahine

My eye has been twitching and hip hurting since early August, but I had my “VBFQ” (very busy fourth quarter – 4 fun trips in a row) to look forward to, so I ignored what my body was telling me.  Then my 90-year-old Mom passed away gently in her sleep. Although her passing wasn’t exactly unexpected, it’s true that nothing prepares you once you become an orphan in this world.

“For in grief, nothing ‘stays put.’ One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs.  Round and round.  Everything repeats.  Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?But if a spiral, am I going up or down it?

How often – will it be for always? – how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, ‘I never realized my loss till this moment?’ The same leg is cut off time after time.”

C. S. Lewis, “A Grief Observed”

This loop of forgetting then surrendering to the sudden and shattering memory of what has happened – the loss of my Mother – is my current existence.  I don’t know if this is normal, but several times a day, with no warning, I will experience what feels like a punch in the gut from Grief, and I will utter, “Mommy!” like I did as a child to summon her comfort.  The moment doesn’t last more than a few seconds – and I am able to return to whatever activity I was doing without much difficulty – but C. S. Lewis is right – “the death of a beloved is an amputation.”  I have to learn to walk in this world anew without her.

A few things really help soothe this pain.  1.  Puppy hugs (I recently adopted a new puppy whose presence in my home is like a steady source of dopamine); 2. A healthy routine (e.g., boring adherence to the basics:  enough rest, water, exercise, sunshine, good nutrition, conversations with family); 3.  Old friends – the ones I grew up with who knew my Mother best. Hearing kind words about my Mom and retelling familiar stories from my early days is of great comfort. Simply being in the presence of my oldest friends, I have found to be enormously healing.  

I am lucky to have a few such friends I have known since birth.  And each one reached out to me in my pain immediately to offer comfort, kindness and reminders of the great person my Mom was.   By sheer coincidence (or maybe not?), my oldest friend, Missy, and I had plans to spend a week together this Fall on her island paradise, Maui.  Missy gave me a chance to opt out of our plans until “a better time.”  It really felt like the perfect time to be in her presence.  After all, our Mothers were close friends and our Fathers were the very best of friends.  Between our 2 families there were 15 children, and we all grew up together.  Lots of comfort and familiarity awaited me. Exactly one month after losing Mom, I boarded a plane and headed off to the unknown.  I am not a good traveler nor am I particularly curious about “unexplored” places.  Wanderlust is not something that drives me.  But quiet companionship and a few reminders of who I really am, during this time when I feel so lost, is definitely what drove me to pack my bags and visit Missy.

When I arrived, she was hiding behind a wall with a fresh plumeria lei to welcome me.  I later learned the plumeria flower represents birth, love, spring and new beginnings.  In Buddhist culture, the plumeria represents immortality, because the tree will bloom even if it is uprooted.  Immediately, I felt like it had been the right decision to seek adventure with my old friend instead of staying home and hiding under the covers like I wanted. This could be a time of new birth. She kept using this Hawaiian word, “Wahine,” which literally translates to woman.  I learned it can also be a term of endearment for one’s closest female friends.

Every morning began with at least two hours of relaxing outside on her terrace overlooking a sumptuous garden with the sea in the background. In the background, the sounds of tropical birds I have never heard before, beckoning old friends to start the day in one another’s company, just enjoying the moment.  That’s what I enjoyed and appreciated most about our time together – there was no “daily agenda,” it was as slow-paced and relaxed as could be.  I knew there were many things on the island I would not venture out to see and this was fine with me.  I needed to move slowly, and Missy understood this. On those quiet early mornings happily tucked into her backyard paradise, my oldest friend Missy reminded me of several things and thus helped me heal the wounds broken open by Mom’s passing.  

In no particular order, here are the things my “Wahine” (Hawaiian for woman/friend) helped me to see and in her way re-ignited my spark for life:

I look great in red lipstick – Missy was surprised to see a more “subdued” look after years of sporting the brightest red lipstick I could find. When I told her several makeup artists scolded me due to it’s “aging effect,” she said that was bulls*** and I should go back to what I love (so I have);

I will publish my writing one day – One of her favorite publications has been on my “most wanted” list for years – she’s confident she’ll see my name in it one day;

No matter how broken I believe the world is today, there are many things in my life worth celebrating – a great family, health, sobriety, and friendships that have lasted decades for starters;

I am not alone in my sobriety (nothing tests your sobriety like loss – my dog of 11 years passed 12 days after Mom) – Missy decided before I even arrived to practice “Sober October” – more than anything else, THIS is what brought me to tears. Not that I am close to a relapse after everything that has happened. It simply felt like a major show of support and solidarity when my oldest friend on this earth quietly decided to join me sans alcohol for a bit.

The timing of the Universe can be perplexing and mysterious, especially when one feels like She is lobbing pain on top of pain for no reason.  It felt so good to surrender to the cosmic invitation to meet my old friend in my pain, on her beautiful island, and just sit quietly together drinking coffee for several days.  My pain subsided a little and our friendship grew a lot. It turns out I  traveled 4,000 miles to feel like I was right at home. Thank you, Wahine, for the gift of your time and presence when I needed it most.