Not Evaporated, Just Invisible… or I Love You in 11 Languages

This whole world’s wild at heart and weird on top.
(from the movie Wild at Heart)
There have been a plethora of scary events that have made their way to the forefront of my mind over the last few months, even within the last few days. As I struggle to muddle through the perils of day-to-day living and attempt to process terrible news events, I allow loving kindness to eradicate the darkness and I welcome it with open arms

There is a distant memory that always seems to restores my faith in mankind. In essence, it’s a public “thank-you” to an anonymous person who forever changed my life and for a lot of people who I hold close that continue to change my life.

When I was 21 years old, I was in complete denial in regards to my mom’s terminal cancer and looming death. There were so many things going on in my young life and I selfishly wanted the world as my oyster, no matter what the consequences. My mom encouraged me to go out and do things, despite the fact she could barely function and spent most of her days crying. The cancer meds had turned her into a person that I no longer recognized. I tried to distance myself from her and longed for the “real” mom to come out of that ravaged body. Sometimes, I would curl up with her and cry, too… just because I knew she was in there, somewhere… her body had just failed her.

She spent the last months of her life all but confined to the hospital. I would go to see her as much as I could throughout each day, with my work schedule and limited transportation. I made a makeshift bed across two chairs to stay the night when the hospital staff would let me.

Back at home, things got worse as our bills got further behind. I came home briefly from the hospital one night to find my two younger sisters sitting in the dark. Our electricity had been turned off and I was beside myself with stress and grief.

I made my way back to the hospital where a nurse found me sobbing in a waiting room in the cancer ward. She came up to me and asked me what was wrong and I told her everything that had been weighing on me like a leaded anvil. The floodgates had opened and I poured out my heart to a complete stranger. She held my hand, dried my tears and brought me a glass of water. She asked me to wait for her when she left the room momentarily.

Shortly thereafter, she came back in, with a fresh box of tissue. She told me that our electricity had been turned back on and requested that I not worry about that any longer. I seem to remember that I grabbed her in a desperate hug as she escorted me back to my mom’s room. I really don’t think I ever properly thanked her. And then she was gone. Days after, I roamed the corridors looking for her, but she was nowhere to be found.

In the interim, my mom’s condition worsened, we were evicted from our house and she eventually died. That single gesture from an anonymous nurse was all but forgotten as I went through all of the proverbial phases of grief.

As I have progressed in my quest to live life to the fullest, I wanted to take a moment to thank the nurse, whoever she is, wherever she is. At a time when I felt utterly alone and frightened, one woman and her lone call to the electric company saved me from becoming bitter. She was hope and my guardian angel. Her gesture kept the golden fire burning in my soul and made me want to be a better person.

I am a helper… one that extends a hand to those who need it, in loving tribute to those that offered me the same. My heartfelt thanks goes out to those who inspired me.

I want to thank my friends and family and complete strangers that continue to fuel that tiny flame that is never extinguished. Many know who they are and I thank them all the time, but a public forum is my gift to these beloved people. I love you all and will continue to sing your praises as long as I have breath and the words to do so.

I love you!
Je t’aime!
Te amo!
Ich liebe dich!
Ti amo!
Ik howu van jou!
Ja cie kocham!
Jag alskar dig!
Ik howu van jou!
Eu te amo!

And just for good measure: Iyay ovelay ouyay

Amie Althaea lives in Portland, Oregon with her beautiful friends and three babies in fuzzy cat suits. You can write to her at missalthaea(at)gmail(dot)com.