The Inspiration

Back To Basics

"When you feel life out of focus...always return to [basics] of life."

That quote has proven quite applicable to me in recent days. I wish I could say that it came from some wise man like Socrates, or T'Challa, or even Anthony Bourdain. The truth is that this quote comes from Mr. Miyagi of "Karate Kid" fame. In the beginning of KK II, Daniel shares with Miyagi-san his frustration with the prospect of moving to Fresno for the entire summer, and the fact that his main squeeze, Ali, has fallen in love with a football player from UCLA. Miyagi, in his infinite wisdom, tells Daniel to return to the basics, and then has the young warrior repaint his fence or build an addition to his house or something.

I can sympathize with young Daniel, as I feel my life is out of focus as well. Two months ago, I was living with my best friend, and the love of my life. We had a beautiful living space which overlooked Lake Michigan and was minutes away from my mother's home so we could be with her whenever we wanted. We had a loving (yet drooly) little cat and we had a quiet yet fulfilling life. Since then, my love has passed away due to one of the most aggressive cases of ovarian cancer some of the best medical minds in the world have ever seen. In addition, her immediate family, to whom my family has been nothing but supportive before and during my love's illness, has betrayed our kindness in numerous acts of cruelty and disrespect, including but certainly not limited to being told that if any member of my family (including my mother) attended my love's funeral, "it might get ugly". Even after my love was funeralized and buried, her mother has continued this campaign against me, concocting and spreading these vicious fallacies about my supposed rampant infidelity while my love was in the final days of her life.

Normally, I consider myself to be a “glass half-full” person. Words like rage, and vengeance, and hatred very rarely enter my vocabulary, much less ever describe my emotional state. But I felt myself becoming a new person, a person I didn't like very much or even recognize. Much like Charles Xavier when he splintered into Onslaught, or Banner when he turns green, I was becoming defined by the depression, and rage, and hatred I was feeling. To put it simply, my life becoming was out of focus.

This past weekend represented the first attempt to adjust the focus ring on my life. On the 23rd, my family, one of my love’s closest friends, and my Church organized a beautiful memorial service in her memory. There were outstanding musical selections, moving tributes from my family as well as my love’s friends, as well as words or comfort and reflection from my pastor. Immediately thereafter, we had fellowship in the Social Room of the Church in which I had grown up. In a room filled with pink flowers and accessories as well as images of my love, all the attendees of the service came together in mutual support and to honor her life. Over turkey sandwiches and “church punch”, we reminisced about times we had, laughs we shared, and moments we will never forget. Even members of my love’s extended family attended and were tremendously supportive and loving to my family and I. This is where I began to forget the viciousness and cruelty of what happened immediately after my love’s passing, and instead began to really remember all the great times, my love and I had for the almost 9 years I knew her prior.

Immediately after the religious service, some of our closest friends met at the apartment my love and I shared, and had a less formal get-together to celebrate the life of my love. Over Grey Goose and Tonics and Swedish Fish, and with a soundtrack provided by Janet Jackson and Carrie Underwood, we sat and told somewhat “less church appropriate stories” about my love and the fun times that we all had together. We ended the afternoon by walking out to the beach that our apartment overlooked, and attaching notes that we wrote to my love to pink helium balloons and releasing them into the sky.



My note simply read,

“I LOVE YOU! You were the best thing ever to happen to me. I will never forget you.”

I am not completely healed, and everything is not back to normal. As soon as I finish typing this, I am going over to our apartment to pack the few remaining items in there to be removed by June 5th. But I can say, my life is more focused. My rage and hatred for some of the members of my love’s immediate family has begun to fade like the outer edges of a camera’s viewfinder when the focus is adjusted. What remains in my focus is the dull ache that comes from the fact that the love of my life is gone. The fact that I will never hear her call me by my last name, or feel her rub my back as I get ready to go to work, or challenge me to a game of Trivial Pursuit. I won’t hear her playfully tell me, “I’m The Boss!” or watch “Real Housewives of Atlanta” with her or walk with her on that same beach where we released the balloons. I am sad. I am in pain. But at least my life is more in focus. And it didn’t take a fight to the death in Okinawa to get there.