The Journey So Far, Part Two: Loss, Isolation, and… Progress?
April 18, 2016
Life is strange.
Not only is that the title of a remarkably underrated video game series, it’s also a universal truth. You can plan things out as much as you like, work hard to get to where you want to be, and then… well, life throws you a curveball before you even step up to the plate.
I say this because I had a plan. A roadmap, as I mentioned in the last post, for what I was going to do after I graduated from high school. I was living on Maui at the time, and I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t miss that place. After all, it was where I grew up in a lot of ways. A bunch of people I consider friends still live there, and I feel like that is where my heart resides.
I would have gone to community college there. Hopefully, I would have carved out a little niche for myself, and maybe even would have settled down. Perhaps I’d have a short novel or two under my belt. At least, that was the idea.
That was all tossed by the wayside after I had my first encounter with death. My grandmother, a loving, sweet, kindhearted woman who represented all the goodness in the world to me, passed away on Christmas Day in 1997. She was 74.
My folks and I had hopped on a plane from Maui back to our old family home on Oahu to visit them. Things were going well, and we all had a huge feast together before going off to do our own things. I remember jumping on their brand new computer to check it out, when I heard my grandma walk by and tell me how much she loved me. I told her I loved her, too. Seconds later, I heard my grandfather yelling for help, and I ran to his room to find that grandma had collapsed. I just tried to help my grandfather hold her up off the floor while my dad called 911. But it was too late. My grandmother tried to speak one last time, but all I heard was a gurgle. And she was gone.
It was sudden, and complete, and devastating. I didn’t go back to school for a few weeks. I felt like I had lost more than just my grandmother that day, though that was the greatest loss of all. To be honest, it took me years to figure out the other things, because I just couldn’t deal with it at the time. Suffice it to say, all my ideas and nebulous plans for the future were thrown into flux.
In 1999, I graduated from high school. I still remember that night very vividly. I remember the ceremony, my classmates, the heat from the lights inside the auditorium. I remember the way that the girl I had a huge crush on smiled at me that night. I remember the hugs, the humongous leis we were all suffocating under after we finished the ceremony, and I remember the goodbyes. See, I actually liked most of the people in my class, and we were a small, tight-knit group. To me, that was a great night.
However, it led to a question. Where would I go from there? As it turned out, I moved with my parents back to Oahu, where I went to college at Hawaii Pacific University for a couple of years, and we stayed at our family home in order to help my grandpa and my grand-uncle.
For me, college was High School 2.0, except without the fun parts. I showed up, went to class, barely participated, made minimal conversation with others, took a bunch of exams, and… yeah, that was it. I didn’t really make the most of it, and I certainly didn’t appreciate it. One of my professors told me that I was smart, but it was hard to get me out of my shell. I didn’t understand what he was saying at the time, because I was living in my little metaphorical bubble and was afraid of everything. I was afraid of other people, afraid of being judged for who I was, and I didn’t even like who I was.
In short, college was kind of an unmitigated disaster for me. I did, however, learn a few things, and I was surprised to discover how much I had internalized much of what I was taught in those days. Like most of my development in life, it didn’t really strike me until a few years down the line.
After I had to drop out of HPU due to financial issues, I hit a severe wall in terms of personal growth. I isolated myself from others, but I did my best to help my family in every way I could. My grandfather passed away in 2001 after a long battle with cancer. It was a struggle for him, and painful to see him suffer in that way. Then my grand-uncle passed in 2005, and my mother’s younger sister the year after that. The 2000s were a rough decade for us, needless to say.
During that time, my parents operated a janitorial service, which is how I spent my time working. I helped them clean homes, apartments, offices, and even a boutique fashion store or two along the way. Met some interesting people through that experience, but I never really got to know any of them beyond a polite “hello” here and there.
That all changed in 2007, as I was helping to clean one of the aforementioned boutiques at a busy shopping mall called Ala Moana. I remember this moment vividly, too, because it was nothing short of life-changing for me. I’m standing in a stairwell, which leads from the sales floor down to a back room area/office, when a young woman (a salesperson who worked at the store) walked by and said hi. Normally, my response would have been a barely audible grunt of semi-acknowledgment, but in an instant, I felt like I had an epiphany.
I had to wake up. I had to be present. I had to talk to people, to open myself up to life, otherwise I would die alone. I had to stop coasting through life, and actually try to connect with others.
So I said hello back to her, and in that small, mundane moment, things began to change.
Well, that’s part two. Three’s coming up in a bit. Thanks for reading!
Not only is that the title of a remarkably underrated video game series, it’s also a universal truth. You can plan things out as much as you like, work hard to get to where you want to be, and then… well, life throws you a curveball before you even step up to the plate.
I say this because I had a plan. A roadmap, as I mentioned in the last post, for what I was going to do after I graduated from high school. I was living on Maui at the time, and I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t miss that place. After all, it was where I grew up in a lot of ways. A bunch of people I consider friends still live there, and I feel like that is where my heart resides.
I would have gone to community college there. Hopefully, I would have carved out a little niche for myself, and maybe even would have settled down. Perhaps I’d have a short novel or two under my belt. At least, that was the idea.
That was all tossed by the wayside after I had my first encounter with death. My grandmother, a loving, sweet, kindhearted woman who represented all the goodness in the world to me, passed away on Christmas Day in 1997. She was 74.
My folks and I had hopped on a plane from Maui back to our old family home on Oahu to visit them. Things were going well, and we all had a huge feast together before going off to do our own things. I remember jumping on their brand new computer to check it out, when I heard my grandma walk by and tell me how much she loved me. I told her I loved her, too. Seconds later, I heard my grandfather yelling for help, and I ran to his room to find that grandma had collapsed. I just tried to help my grandfather hold her up off the floor while my dad called 911. But it was too late. My grandmother tried to speak one last time, but all I heard was a gurgle. And she was gone.
It was sudden, and complete, and devastating. I didn’t go back to school for a few weeks. I felt like I had lost more than just my grandmother that day, though that was the greatest loss of all. To be honest, it took me years to figure out the other things, because I just couldn’t deal with it at the time. Suffice it to say, all my ideas and nebulous plans for the future were thrown into flux.
In 1999, I graduated from high school. I still remember that night very vividly. I remember the ceremony, my classmates, the heat from the lights inside the auditorium. I remember the way that the girl I had a huge crush on smiled at me that night. I remember the hugs, the humongous leis we were all suffocating under after we finished the ceremony, and I remember the goodbyes. See, I actually liked most of the people in my class, and we were a small, tight-knit group. To me, that was a great night.
However, it led to a question. Where would I go from there? As it turned out, I moved with my parents back to Oahu, where I went to college at Hawaii Pacific University for a couple of years, and we stayed at our family home in order to help my grandpa and my grand-uncle.
For me, college was High School 2.0, except without the fun parts. I showed up, went to class, barely participated, made minimal conversation with others, took a bunch of exams, and… yeah, that was it. I didn’t really make the most of it, and I certainly didn’t appreciate it. One of my professors told me that I was smart, but it was hard to get me out of my shell. I didn’t understand what he was saying at the time, because I was living in my little metaphorical bubble and was afraid of everything. I was afraid of other people, afraid of being judged for who I was, and I didn’t even like who I was.
In short, college was kind of an unmitigated disaster for me. I did, however, learn a few things, and I was surprised to discover how much I had internalized much of what I was taught in those days. Like most of my development in life, it didn’t really strike me until a few years down the line.
After I had to drop out of HPU due to financial issues, I hit a severe wall in terms of personal growth. I isolated myself from others, but I did my best to help my family in every way I could. My grandfather passed away in 2001 after a long battle with cancer. It was a struggle for him, and painful to see him suffer in that way. Then my grand-uncle passed in 2005, and my mother’s younger sister the year after that. The 2000s were a rough decade for us, needless to say.
During that time, my parents operated a janitorial service, which is how I spent my time working. I helped them clean homes, apartments, offices, and even a boutique fashion store or two along the way. Met some interesting people through that experience, but I never really got to know any of them beyond a polite “hello” here and there.
That all changed in 2007, as I was helping to clean one of the aforementioned boutiques at a busy shopping mall called Ala Moana. I remember this moment vividly, too, because it was nothing short of life-changing for me. I’m standing in a stairwell, which leads from the sales floor down to a back room area/office, when a young woman (a salesperson who worked at the store) walked by and said hi. Normally, my response would have been a barely audible grunt of semi-acknowledgment, but in an instant, I felt like I had an epiphany.
I had to wake up. I had to be present. I had to talk to people, to open myself up to life, otherwise I would die alone. I had to stop coasting through life, and actually try to connect with others.
So I said hello back to her, and in that small, mundane moment, things began to change.
Well, that’s part two. Three’s coming up in a bit. Thanks for reading!
Comments
Post a Comment