In the beginning, everything feels so new. When he takes my hand in his, for that electric moment, the world seems to light up. When his words dance towards me and link together with mine, my mind seems to take flight. Each day buzzes with the thoughts of this new adventure. Of when he's walking next to me, going hand-in-hand down a new street with the air feeling lighter and the sun shining brighter. Or of when he's lying next to me, our bodies like pieces of a familiar puzzle just one move apart. Every moment feels so new with this person, someone who is not far off from being a stranger but feels as if I've known him for a lifetime.  

We all know this person, he's the 'I can't believe I've just met you' person.  He's the 'could this really be something' person.  He's also the 'will he still be here tomorrow' person. The 'this could really hurt' person.

Then comes the change. Suddenly each new moment that held the promise of an exciting beginning, dulls with the memory of every ending I've cried through. My mind no longer feels as if it is in flight, instead it feels weighted with the urge to predict what might come next. Thoughts dance around the promise of heartbreak, teetering on the line between a possibility and a promised reality.  Each day now feels as if it is an unfinished puzzle, one which I spend searching for what must be the broken piece. 

We all know this change, it's the simple look but the complicated touch. It's the words that churn in the knots that form in your throat. It's the talks that act as an unmistakable leap between one moment where you know everything and one when you suddenly know nothing at all. It's the moments that pass you by almost as if they never even existed.

Finally comes the end, before it even really began. I question every word he speaks, and can't seem to enjoy the lighter air or see the brighter sun.  My feet no longer move in step with his, and our bodies feel miles apart. The walks hand-in-hand have lessened, and the long talks have shortened. He now sees and feels my doubts, the ones I have convinced him to have as well. Our ending arriving far quicker than our beginning, our last moments are spent convincing myself that I saw this heartbreak coming from a mile away. This is when we walk away from what feels like a brief daydream, leaving in our dust the remnants of our excitement and potential. This is when we move further and further away from one another, until all I'm left with are little wisps of a feeling I think I once had. 

We all know this ending, it's the almost and the never-was.  It's the intact heart, locked away from feeling anything at all. It's the past speaking louder than the present. It's not giving the future an opportunity to be all it was meant to be.

We all know these moments. They're the ones that make up parts of our past, present, and future. They're the moments with people we think about with the tint of heartbreak. But when I think about them now, and the impermanence of life and all the things that it's made up of, I think about how we are all just gifted with many small moments. Moments with different people, filled with elements of life and the human condition; hope, laughter, beauty, love, and yes - fear, loss and pain. We never know which of these elements we'll get to feel or at what moment, and which of these moments we'll get to keep as memories. But what we do know is that it's when we're left wishing we could hold on to them, that's where the real heartbreak lives. It's not having tried and failed, or having trusted and been proven wrong, or even having loved and lost. It's wishing you could have more moments or that you could just remember the details of the ones you did have, but having only wisps to hold on to. It's wishing you knew as you were living them that you'd want to keep them exactly as they were, because they were exactly as they were meant to be. It's wanting to have just allowed the world to light up, your mind to take flight, and your bodies to touch so you could remember what it felt like to be a part of something special. To have let go of control so you could have felt all that this moment could have gifted you. To live. To love.

We don't know what could happen today, or tomorrow.  We don't even really know what could have happened yesterday.  What we do know is life and love are made up of many small moments. Cherish every single one as if it's the one that you'll one day be left wishing for. 

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My grandmother is resting peacefully now. Loving me from afar as she always did; just a little further away, alongside my grandfather, and free from pain. She lived a long, hard, but beautiful life. She persevered. She survived war and poverty, conquered single motherhood, endured sending her son to another country, and the pain of old age. When we were a broken family, the love of this one strong woman always brought us home. And at the very end, all she wanted was to know that her son was a good father and her grandchildren were happy.

During one of my last visits to see my grandmother, my father asked me to take as many photos of her during her brief moments of lucidity as possible. I've been looking at this one photo over and over.

For a long time, I was hesitant about sharing this moment because it was so personal and could be difficult to look at for some people. But when I look at it, I see so many different elements; beauty, serenity, acceptance, love, and yes, fear and pain. These elements of life and the human condition that we are all bound to feel at some point, yet here it is captured in just one moment. Between a son and his mother, on the teetering line between life and death. A father in front of his daughter, suddenly just a fellow human being, fragile and vulnerable in our mortality.

When I ask myself, 'what is the meaning of life, why are we here, what is it all for', I know that I haven't the faintest clue what the answer is. But I also know, a part of the answer must lie somewhere in this picture, in this moment, between all of us people who can all understand it in some way. And I just wanted to share that.

I love you, 奶奶. Thank you for this opportunity to be alive.

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To the artists. The amazing people who bring forth pure creation and beauty in the world. The creators of movement, who light up and move gracefully, drawing patterns in the dark sky as I imagine God did when He laid constellations for dreamers to gaze upon. Ones whose passions burn, graceful yet fiery as they spin siren silhouettes around them. The architects of melody, who lay the foundation for our souls to soar at heights among the skyscrapers. Those who create sound to transport us in one moment to our trove of memories, who bring us on a journey to feel every step our hearts have taken. The collectors of thought, who manifest a parallel reality. Ones who simultaneously write a new common experience, uniquely, but for many. Words on a page that bring us someplace far, far away yet at times, deep, deep inside. The capturers of color, depth, and layered moments; creators of images who awaken our senses using only our sight. Showing us mirrors of ourselves as those who exist in a complex world, while showing us the captured permanence of a passing moment. From their minds, their bodies; they create patterns and melodies for us to see and hear. The selfless offering of their hearts, manifesting in the space around them; traveling towards us, enveloping us, cradling us, lifting us, bonding us. How does one move amongst this, and not be grateful to be alive? To the admirers. What a gift it is to be alive. To be amongst them, to witness what humans can make with their pain and their joy. The form our spirits take outside of our bodies. The way a single thought moves into a succession of sounds or a compilation of shapes which now live tangibly in the universe as something from nothing. The way the fragmented pieces of our lived in hearts, the ones that fell away as they moved through life with us, can find it. The way when they meet, they touch. They embrace, dancing into the other's nooks and crannies, folding into one another's cracks. They move and mold, so they coalesce. And when the pieces return home, they return fuller. The way we, as admirers, can receive this gift and take it with us in our lives, changed. Perhaps changed just a small, unidentifiable amount, but changed nonetheless. Carrying it with us in a soul that has been moved; and when a soul is moved, it creates. Creates love to be felt, compassion to be given, curiosity to be explored, and joy to be shared. Creates the answers to what the meaning of each day, each year, each lifetime could be. What a blessing it is, to be connected in this way. The givers and the receivers, receiving and giving.

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do you hear the sounds that echo against the vast sky

that reverberate with the smoky wisps of last night's laughter

do you see the shadows of the sun burnt backdrop

that veil us in the dreamscape of a memory well made

even when the minutes wipe the stars away

and a new day begins

i hope you feel what i feel

i hope it harmonizes with the melody in the words that you will speak

i hope it paints colors in the world that you will see

when a new day begins

i hope we begin together

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do you remember? 

does it weigh on your heart the way that it crushes mine? do the sounds of my screams for help replay for you, the way they echo off my bedroom walls when i wake from memories posing as my nightmares?  sometimes i wonder if it was even real.  the girl in the photo with the face painted in bruises,  the couch with smeared blood that poured from broken lips as they pleaded for breath. were they even mine? do you think about these things?  are they a memory for you too, or have they faded to black like the ending of a movie?

i hear your voice still, telling me i deserved this.  but louder than your voice is my own, telling my body to fight and it screaming back 'i can’t'.  years have passed, so many beautiful moments have come and gone, all filled with words from loving voices.  but still, i wait for the ones in my nightmares to quiet.  and i wonder.  

do you remember?

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fragmented pieces of our lived in hearts, the ones that fell away as they moved through life with us.  our fragile protectors, the remnants of time and of our past broken hearts.  they flow around us, drawing us through space and time to find their matching pieces.  so that when they meet, they touch. they dance into one another, into each one's nooks and crannies, folding into one another's cracks.  they move and mold so that they coalesce. and when the pieces return home, they return changed.  fuller, stronger, braver.  perhaps for just a moment, or perhaps for a lifetime.  perhaps found once, or a million times over.  

our lived in hearts, our broken hearts, our changed hearts; follow them. find one another.  

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Each step I take, heavy. Everywhere I look, blurry. My mind is weighted with the overwhelming burden of my tears.

I move slowly towards my shower, and stumble to pull back the curtain as if behind it lay the secret to some sense of peace. Will I find it in the streaming water holding the promise of removing the weight of my tears, as it would my air? Or will I find it in the water's warm embrace holding me close, as it would if I surrendered completely to it? I turn the shower dial and watch as it calmly comes to life. It isn't lost on me that the soothing call of the water as it flows down from above, soars straight into my heart as it pounds loudly in chaos. I question which is louder, my heart or my mind's desperate pleas for silence. I imagine what the bottom of my tub would look like, if I lay in it having let the water take me from my pain. I imagine who would lift me out, if it would be anyone at all. As I stand before the shower, stabs of pain tickle my bare skin and I shiver at the reminder of the coldness on my body. I make the decision to step forward. Stepping slowly into the shower, I begin to feel it. I feel comfort begin to trickle down from the top of my head to the tip of my nose, dripping down to the crevice of my collarbone creating a small pool right above my heart. Streaming down to create another pool in my belly button before it finally falls to the tips of my toes. As I turn my body and feel the water fall down my back, I tilt my head backwards and close my eyes. I let the rhythm of the water massage my face. And suddenly, in the curtain of darkness behind my eyelids, my thoughts slow beat by beat with each drop. I crouch down, hugging my knees in close. And suddenly, in the warm embrace of my own arms, I feel my heart surrender to the safety they promise. I let myself drift out of my own body, and I imagine what I must look like, small and childlike at the bottom of a tub with tears indistinguishable from the shower water. I want to hold this child, I want to hold this growing girl. I want to lift her to her feet. I want to look at her in her eyes and tuck her hair behind her ears, just the way that I know makes her feel loved. Oh, she is in so much pain, I feel it and I want to tell her it’s in me too but I love her anyway. I want to tell her she is not alone. That I will lift her out, I will save her. And even if the weight seems to be too much for just me right now, I will become strong enough for her with the help of all those that love us. Us. Her and me. This child, this growing girl, this evolving woman. I love us.

My eyes open. Now less foggy, and all I can see is the steam of a long shower. I stand. I step out of the tub, cleansed and lighter now. I turn the dial, and as the last bit of water drops from above, I walk away from nothing more than just an empty tub and back into the warm embrace of a life worth fighting for.  

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