It has been two years since my mother passed away. Every day I walk this earth, I try to be proof that she was here, holding onto the belief that her love didn’t end, it lives inside of me. But grief is tricky; it’s a kind of disease for which no cure can be found.
To distract myself from the silence of my empty house, I threw myself into helping my friend Phil. She called a few weeks back, whispering excitedly, “I need your help — Ryan and I are throwing a tiny engagement party. It’s a surprise, don’t tell a soul!”. I became the party planner, burying my sorrow under pink and gold balloons, fairy lights, and silk flowers.
The party was in another city, so I had to fly. I booked an economy seat, feeling fragile. And those days when life and its living proves harder than usual, I feel your absence all the more. I wished my mom was there to tell me it would be okay.
The flight was a nightmare. There was a man two rows ahead of me in business class, separated by a divider, and for the entire flight — he was UNBEARABLE. He yelled at a mom with a crying baby, snapped at the flight attendant, and even threw sauce at her, leaving her in tears.
I wanted to say something, but I was frozen. Then he shouted the final straw: “FLIGHT ATTENDANTS LIKE YOU SCARE PASSENGERS! GET LOST — SEND YOUR PRETTY COWORKER!”.
Suddenly, the 14-year-old boy sitting next to me stood up. He didn’t look like much, but he had a quiet confidence. He walked up to the divider and spoke clearly to the man. It turns out, the boy was a tech prodigy, and the rude man was an employee at the boy’s father’s company. By the end of the flight, the rude man was in the worst seat — quiet and humiliated.
Watching that boy defend the flight attendant reminded me of a story I’d seen online about a “village” looking out for each other—like the mother who posted a photo of her “grumpy” baby, only for a stranger to save the child’s life by commenting, “That’s not a tan. That is severe jaundice. Get to the ER now”.
I realized that even though my mother is gone, the world is full of people looking out for one another. That boy was part of the village. My friends waiting at the party were part of the village.
When I finally landed and arrived at the venue, I pushed open the hall doors with a huge smile, ready to celebrate. The surprise wasn’t just for Ryan; it was a gathering of love that I desperately needed.
That night, I looked at a photo of my mom on my phone. I whispered, “Thank you, mom”. I knew that in memory and dream I am returned to you, returned home. And as I looked around at my friends, I felt peace, knowing that in the memory of my heart, our forever
