I would go on to learn more from my mother. I learned how to hold things and how to be held. I learned how to eat fish and how to speak my mother tongue. I learned that socks go on your feet unless you draw a face on it first. I learned how to pour yourself into an activity.
I learned left from right and right from wrong. I learned you shouldn't kill things and that you shouldn't shoot guns, even fake ones. I learned that a box of tissues can look like a train car and that healing properly is a painful process. I learned how to be loved.
I learned that if you want to be a student for life you can become a teacher. My mother was a teacher. She knew that to keep learning was to keep growing. I've spent my whole life learning and growing but it is a little easier to do these things when you always have your best teacher around.
My mom died a year ago today. I learned on that day that there is death. It was the first thing I learned without her. It was the first thing I learned this year.
I learned a lot this year. I learned that you can learn a lot even without your best teacher. I learned that the best teachers teach you how to learn on your own.
I learned that I was wrong to call this a wasted year because years are not wasted in the present, they are wasted in the future. I learned that they are wasted when you don't learn from them, that they are wasted when you don't use the rocks that pelted you as stepping stones.
I learned this year that it is easy to look back and identify when something started. I learned that this year started a year ago.
I learned that a birthday marks a beginning and that you always think about your parents on your birthday.
I learned that compartmentalizing is healthy. It is the beginning of healing. It works just like a splint- required until it is time to heal.
I learned that suffering begins when you go to a place where no one can find you. It is the place you go to when you become disconnected, when you lose your sense of belonging.
I learned that music brings you in and out and back to these places like nothing else.
I learned why '40' is my favorite song, what 'Beautiful Day' is about, that things don't last forever and somehow, that a U2 show is like going to see your life flash before your eyes.
I learned that, occasionally, a meal for free is exactly what I need, that I know what I know, that nobody tells you who is disappearing, that when they won't wait you're there to stay.
I learned how to say 'It's art-deco necromantic chic all the dinner plates are kitsch with' in one breath. I learned how to just sit.
I learned that Lake Street Dive should cover 'Higher and Higher'. I learned that I make a distinction between bands that cover songs well and bands that don't, that I prefer the musicians who make connections, who find places for another's work to belong within their own.
I learned that if the event description includes the words 'jazz' and 'free', I'll go.
I learned some things are best for free, like those jazz events or certain meals or sunglasses or libraries. I learned two library card numbers by heart and that I won't pay to replace free sunglasses.
I learned what I'm saving my money for. I learned that it is important to have the means to walk away when you have to.
I learned what I am ready to buy and what I am not. I learned that I might be biracial but I don't buy racial. Races don't foster connection, races don't encourage belonging.
I learned that I when I was told 'you won't regret the money you spend visiting friends', I was not quite ready to generalize the advice.
I learned that work is one way to make money. I learned that it is one way out of many, that you have a life and not a career. I learned that you have to show up for both.
I learned how to fully bring myself to work. I learned that I was The Business Bro, all along.
I learned that Monday is the best day to take vacation but that Wednesday is the best day to not be at work. I learned that you should answer all your email. But if you can, always wait one day before you do.
I learned that you should always trust your employers with your career. If you can't, you should quit. But I also learned that you need a reason to stay, not one to go, and you should always trust your instincts before you trust anything else.
I learned that the work of minimizing failure- vaccinating a community, feeding the hungry, educating kids- is completely draining. I learned that finding the cure is always more alluring than implementing the cure seven billion times.
I learned how good, healthy food is cheap and how costly it is to make that same food available seven days a week in a supermarket. I learned that my weekly grocery bill should be twenty dollars.
I learned that my favorite sushi is eel. Or perhaps mackerel. I learned that I like dazzlingly colorful kitchens and how to make banana bread. I learned a better way to make mashed potatoes.
I learned that most recipes don't remind you to turn off the oven, especially those for pizza. I learned where to get the best slice in Boston.
I learned why people get excited for the Boston Marathon. People are always excited for races that foster connection, for races that encourage your belonging to a community.
I learned that the way the Charles River bends can make what is on your side seem to be on the other bank. You won't know for sure unless you get moving.
I learned the Green Line did once have an 'A' line. I do not know if it ran properly or not. I assume it ran very poorly.
I learned not to assume in life because life tends not to work out the way you plan it.
I learned that assuming the stoplight will turn green is not always enough. Sometimes waiting at the stoplight all day is not enough to turn it green. That is not a reason to run the red light. Sometimes you just have to wait.
I learned that my kids won't meet their grandmother. Those are the cards they'll be dealt. But if they don't know their grandmother, then that's just me misplaying the hand. Assuming I have kids, of course.
I learned my mother almost got into a fistfight with her idiot of a firstborn when she tried to put him into a stroller. I learned that, when she was younger, my mother used to ride her bike all around Tokyo.
I learned that 'no straight on red' might be a good sign for intersections. Or maybe just something to write on bike helmets. I learned that a ghost bike never, ever belongs anywhere.
I learned that your body doesn't forget how to ride a bike. I learned that your body won't forget to remind you when you skip stretching.
I learned that people torture their own feet for no good reason. I learned that when your shoes make your feet hurt, your body wants you to buy new shoes. You can do everything to make yourself more comfortable. But nothing changes the facts when a foot doesn't belong in a shoe.
I learned how to wash my hands properly and that it takes forever. I learned that some things never come off your skin, particularly when your skin connects you to the invisible world beyond. I learned why some people need to get tattoos.
I learned that hair matters a lot less than most of us think. But I also learned that hair can matter a great deal.
I learned how to tie my hair. I learned that if this result is ten inches long, you can donate it to someone who knows it matters a great deal. You can help someone feel connected again.
I learned that when your mother suggests you grow your hair out every other week for five straight years, you should do it, not because she's your mother, but because she knows you best.
I learned that when she suggests you bleach that same grown-out hair blond and spike it like Keisuke Honda, you should not do it, even though she is your mother, because goodness, spiked and bleached blond? You had your chance when I was three, Mom.
I learned the difference between hurt and injured. Injured comes with a time frame and severity levels. Injured means you haven't healed, yet. Injured means everything will connect again in due time.
I learned that hurt just means you are hurt. There are no severity levels. No one is hurt more than another who is hurt. There are no expectations for healing when you are hurt. You are hurt when you do not feel you belong.
I learned it is exhausting to pretend you are injured when you are really hurt.
I learned the power of simply acknowledging what hurts you. I learned the power of a ritual that acknowledges and connects your hurt to your healing, that gives your pain a place to belong while you build the strength to carry it.
I learned that writing is one way to have a connection with what hurts me. I learned that I can write a little bit but struggle to write just a little bit.
I learned that I take great care when I write in longhand. I learned that I am easier to read than I think. I also learned that I am still pretty hard to read.
I learned that at every stage in my life I have found some reason to write something. It is what I do when I feel I belong somewhere.
I learned that no one remembers what you write but usually they remember how your writing made them feel.
I learned that giving advice is the best way to disconnect yourself from another. I learned that having someone justify their own feelings is the fastest way to shut down them down.
I learned that nice means not making someone feel worse and that kind means giving it your all to try and make someone feel better. I learned it takes one to be nice, two to be kind. Kind is the opening for connection, an invitation to belonging.
I learned that adults are starved for kind words. I learned that adults are starved for connection.
I learned that the internet has the ability to make you feel alone or isolated. But I also learned that this might have something to do with how we tend to connect to the internet when we already feel alone or isolated.
I learned that this makes me uneasy about smart phones. I learned that its easy to lie, or at least withhold the truth, when texting, and this makes me uneasy, too.
I learned that when someone sends you a message that makes you feel connected, that makes you understand how you belong, that you'll keep it with you for as long as you can. It doesn't matter what medium the message arrives in.
I learned that you need to be able to state what you feel. You need to connect to your soul and give it a place to belong in your life. Otherwise, you'll eventually regret those times when you were unable to do so.
I learned that if you see a ring that makes you really laugh in Brooklyn, you'll regret not buying it. I learned it because it is important to surround yourself with what makes you laugh.
I learned that you don't regret the time you spend waiting for your coffee in the morning. But if it takes twenty minutes to get your iced coffee, I learned that you don't get that time back.
I learned that one way to keep yourself up at night is to spend the day refusing to change the course that you will regret later. I learned that if you somehow manage to fall asleep, it is literally possible to dream. I learned that some dreams are important and others are totally useless.
I learned a lot of things that might be totally useless.
I learned what a 'bang bang' is. I learned that purple is my favorite color. I learned how to use a pay phone. I learned origami, sort of. I learned how to memorize birthdays. I learned where the line is between shy and withdrawn. I learned that if you are a lousy gift giver, you can still fake it if you make it.
I learned that totally useless things are a great way to connect to each other.
I learned the difference between volunteer as a noun and volunteer as a verb. I learned that the latter is more meaningful to me. It means you must only be your best self and nobody else. It means people must connect to you and not to a role description.
I learned what my best self was and when he was last seen. I learned that grief leaves you with the parting gift of your best self, the self that answers to the soul, the one that learns to find meaning.
I learned that helping someone die is meaningful work.
I learned that growth without meaning, growth for growth's sake, growth where it doesn't belong, is the ideology of the cancer cell.
I learned that if you don't understand and believe in your capacity to grow, you won't know to toss aside the things that are holding you back.
I learned that growing is the reward for a lot of hard work. I learned that growing begins after healing and that healing begins after suffering.
I learned that when you can't quite figure out why something is different, it is because you have become different. You've grown. And though you are always the last one to find out, you knew it would become true all along, too, because you suffered and you healed.
I learned how important it is to go outside and how every day that starts at sunrise is far longer than those that do not. I learned that it is natural to connect to your surroundings. But I knew this all along, I suppose.
I learned that learning is mostly admitting what you knew all along.
I admit that I have a lot left to learn.
I learned that some people try to help you and they will hurt you instead. They will ask how your dad or brother is doing before they ask how you are doing. They will tell you that you are a tough kid and a smart kid and that you should be fine soon enough. They will tell you that you will land on your feet. They will tell you that their own mother survived cancer. They will tell you about the people who lost mothers but are doing just fine. They will tell you to go have a nice summer or ask how yours has been, so far. They tell you they know exactly how you feel.
I learned this year that it is easy to look back and identify when something started. I learned that this year started a year ago.
I learned it is not so simple to figure out when something ended. I learned today that this year is not over yet. I'm not sure when this year will end. I wonder if this is because I still have something left to learn from this past year.
Maybe what I have left to learn is compassion, the truest kind for those that only want the best for me and don't know what to say. Maybe I have to learn compassion for those who don't know but still forge on through self-doubt and discomfort and their own experiences of hurt to give it their best shot for my sake.
People ask me about my dad or my brother because they care about them, too, in the same way they care about me. They ask because they know that I can give them a good answer.
They acknowledge my toughness and intelligence and resilience because they know it or admire it or have just seen it and want very much for acknowledging it to be what gets me through the day.
They tell you about surviving mothers because they know that nothing is worse than a battle lost in vain, that each failure to conquer a disease is an imperceptible step forward for someone's research, someone's mother, someone's dream.
They tell you about the sons who are doing fine and moving on because when you find someone wandering and lost the nicest thing to do is to hand them a map. A map connects us to where we belong. The kindest thing to do is to help them use it.
They ask about your summer because they know clouds have silver linings if you bother to look and that its important to surround yourself with people who help you laugh, help you have fun, and help you get through difficult times.
They tell you they know how you feel because the first thing they learned is that it is natural to be connected to other people. A connection is an invitation to belonging. They are doing their best to acknowledge that you still belong, somewhere.
This year will be over soon. I know it because I understand compassion a little better today than I did a year ago. I know my best self is the compassionate one, the one that allows a nice gesture to become a kind one, the one that is present and open to learning. I'm lucky to know how to learn.
I learned this year that I am lucky. I learned that I miss my mother a great deal but I knew this all along, too. I missed her when I went to summer camp. I missed her when I went to college. I missed her when I went to Japan and saw all her favorite sights without her. I'll miss her the next time I go back. I knew I would miss her all along but I still learned that I miss her because I'm learning all the time and I learned that some things you learn again and again.
I am lucky to miss her. I'm lucky because you really miss people when there was something truly great about them. You miss anyone when they give all they had for you unconditionally.
Thank you for all you taught me, Mom. Thank you for all you gave me. I missed you this year. I will miss you next year and each year after. Until we connect again in the next world, your memory will belong right where you rest in my heart.
Love always,
Tim
