People came in and out of our office all day today. Stressed people, happy people, curious people, clueless people, and one very broken person.
I remember the feeling well...
You're where you're meant to be, doing what you just know is what you're supposed to be doing, and then out-of-the-blue, comes that text, that email, that call, and the world crashes down around you.
Normally I like to write upbeat, humorous posts; but going out and having adventures, living all the dreams you never thought possible, it comes with a price - at times a high one.
For me it was my Grandpa, and due to issues with my Visa, I watched over Skype from South Korea as my family gathered together to say goodbye to my last grandparent. Skype.
For her it was her grandma, and she gets to go home to be with her family when they lay her to rest, but that hardly makes it easier.
The woman, my age more or less, broken. And my heart could only break along with her in silent sympathy. Oh yes, she put up a brave face, laughed and joked along with the rest of us during dinner, mentioned she was leaving but glossed over the reason why.
I get it. It's hard. There's nothing to say, and no one to say it to. It's like walking through a dense fog, hoping that no one notices that you have no idea where you are going. Doing whatever it takes to feel normal - unbroken, whole.
But them someone mentioned Disney songs, and for the rest of the night she sang. As a small group of us meandered toward the city center, snacked on sweets, wondered at the swan/merman/faun creatures adorning the fountain in the plaza, and slowly made our way back to the school. She kept singing. Every time her voice cracked and she laughed at herself and said she was done, she started again.
And I sang with her.
I went out with a group of people I didn't know, paid an outrageous amount of money for a drink I didn't even want, and sang like a crazed tourist.
But why?
She doesn't know me, I don't think she even knew my name. She has no idea that I know her story all too well. She will never know any of that, and tomorrow, on her flight home, she won't remember me.
No, traveling isn't easy.
Nights like this when I can't sleep because I'm wishing that my dreams didn't have to be so far apart, times when people you love pass and you're not there to be a part of the support and closure, moments when you reach out to someone you don't know and give them a piece of your heart without them ever knowing.
And why?
All for a dream - that chance to feel for a fleeting instant that it's all worth it.
So no, I'm not lucky.
Traveling is my dream, but achieving it doesn't make me lucky - it fulfills me while it's scarring me, it gives me life while it's breaking my heart.
I remember the feeling well...
You're where you're meant to be, doing what you just know is what you're supposed to be doing, and then out-of-the-blue, comes that text, that email, that call, and the world crashes down around you.
Normally I like to write upbeat, humorous posts; but going out and having adventures, living all the dreams you never thought possible, it comes with a price - at times a high one.
For me it was my Grandpa, and due to issues with my Visa, I watched over Skype from South Korea as my family gathered together to say goodbye to my last grandparent. Skype.
For her it was her grandma, and she gets to go home to be with her family when they lay her to rest, but that hardly makes it easier.
The woman, my age more or less, broken. And my heart could only break along with her in silent sympathy. Oh yes, she put up a brave face, laughed and joked along with the rest of us during dinner, mentioned she was leaving but glossed over the reason why.
I get it. It's hard. There's nothing to say, and no one to say it to. It's like walking through a dense fog, hoping that no one notices that you have no idea where you are going. Doing whatever it takes to feel normal - unbroken, whole.
But them someone mentioned Disney songs, and for the rest of the night she sang. As a small group of us meandered toward the city center, snacked on sweets, wondered at the swan/merman/faun creatures adorning the fountain in the plaza, and slowly made our way back to the school. She kept singing. Every time her voice cracked and she laughed at herself and said she was done, she started again.
And I sang with her.
I went out with a group of people I didn't know, paid an outrageous amount of money for a drink I didn't even want, and sang like a crazed tourist.
But why?
She doesn't know me, I don't think she even knew my name. She has no idea that I know her story all too well. She will never know any of that, and tomorrow, on her flight home, she won't remember me.
No, traveling isn't easy.
Nights like this when I can't sleep because I'm wishing that my dreams didn't have to be so far apart, times when people you love pass and you're not there to be a part of the support and closure, moments when you reach out to someone you don't know and give them a piece of your heart without them ever knowing.
And why?
All for a dream - that chance to feel for a fleeting instant that it's all worth it.
So no, I'm not lucky.
Traveling is my dream, but achieving it doesn't make me lucky - it fulfills me while it's scarring me, it gives me life while it's breaking my heart.
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