Persevering Paige

My first home was an apartment in Manassas, Virginia that my parents brought me to in the days after I entered the world while my father fixed up a family home in Culpeper for us to move into. That home in Culpeper was on the street ‘Lesco Boulevard’, and little did I know then, that it would become more than just my childhood street. I lived there until I was 10. My father died in a very painful way in late May when I was 7. My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was 10, and we were still residing in that house. I confronted both of those realities there. Before and between those happenings, there were many sunny days spent in the backyard, many laughs, sibling births, and so much joy there.

My mother re-married when I was 11 and she and my step-father began to look for a new house.

I remember riding in the car with my mother, brother, and sister to Reva, Virginia following the real estate agent. It seemed like a world away to an 11 year old even though it was really only 15 minutes down the road. I remember thinking in my head that no house would ever compare to Lesco Boulevard, that I would never be as connected to a place as I was with my childhood home, the only place I ever lived with both of my parents. You don’t have to tell me that those are mature thoughts for an 11 year old to have, I know, and yes, I have always been that way.

We pulled onto a private, gravel road, lined at the beginning with what looked like a row of Christmas trees on the side. The second house on the left and the only white one was where we stopped. It was the only house on the street with a paved driveway, a garage, and a sun-room. I had a frown on my face, quite unimpressed. Yet, as I opened the car door and ran out onto the side of the backyard from the driveway, my face beamed with joy and happiness. I had a smile as big as one could imagine. I felt the air hit my body as I ran quickly down the hill. I yelled across the yard to my siblings, “Do you guys see how big this yard is?! This house is so nice!” My Mom and step-father ended up putting an offer on the house and the owners took it. It would officially become our new home. I was about to start middle school, so what a perfect time for a new home.

I originally moved into the basement bedroom because I was the oldest. My first night in that bedroom was strange and unfamiliar. There was a noise coming from the storage room (which happened to be in that room) that sounded like a dog out of breath. I fell asleep to the feeling of accepting the unordinary. I eventually traded rooms with my younger sister and have been in the same bedroom ever since.

My Mom adopted the room upstairs that was supposed to be the living room as her “special room”, because she kept her precious white couches in there. She conditioned herself to vacuuming it two times a day at the very least, so that she could see the lines in the pink carpet perfectly, like some adore to see in their grass made from the lawnmower. She would take the pillows off of the couches every few days to add life to them, let them sit there a few hours, and then put them back on. Even though it was the living room, not much living went on there. She never allowed my siblings or I in it. She said that we could mess up any other room in the house but we were not to mess up this one. I remember a few times my little brother going into the room and my Mom swiftly calling for him to get out. That room became the space that breathed her name and spoke her presence into my heart for ten difficult, important years. It was a unique room, with pink carpet. If you sat there long enough, you just might be able to pick out the individual strands. The lamps on the sides of the couches complimented the couches perfectly, and the picture frame above it matched the colors of the room. We all associated the picture frame and lamps with the couches.

My Mom passed away on December 24, 2010, on my fourteenth birthday, from metastasized breast cancer. I confronted the reality of being parent-less in that very room. I confronted the hard fact of my birthday, a day that is supposed to be celebrated by someone, become melancholic, a day that would be hard to be joyous. I watched the funeral home men carry my mother out of the house, past the her room, and down the pink stairs on Christmas Eve.

I moved out of the house after that for most of my high school years. I had some things to sort out, it was too hard to be there. Then, towards the end of my junior year, I needed to move back. My uncle told me he “had a feeling that one day I would circle back there”.

For ten years after my mother’s passing, I inhabited this house, thanks to the hard work of my step-father who worked to keep it. I was surrounded by all of my mother’s things in this house. I feel her so deeply there. I sat in her beloved room for hours upon hours, appreciating it, soaking it in, and writing in it. I walked past projects that remained un-finished due to unfair death. I stared into rooms and closed my eyes and saw my mother enter them, recalling almost perfectly her every movement from my memory. I used my Mom’s southern living dishes, and as I opened the cabinet, I saw the September 2010 calendar pass me just as she had left it taped to the cabinet door. I looked at spaces in the house and remembered moments we had there, talks, and fights. I spent years in my room that had been my room from middle school, to high school, to college, feeling as if I still had normalcy in my life. I brought people I loved to this house to meet or visit with my family, sometimes, people I loved more than they loved me. I spent hours downstairs with my step-dad watching old western movies, Captain Ron, Cape Fear, and Leo movies, talking to him about life. I spent many Christmas’s, Thanksgivings’, Easter’s, and Fourth of July’s here. I spent nights outside in the driveway talking and looking at the stars. I had my best friend Reagan over to laugh and dance and talk. I had many people pick me up here, take me out, and bring me home. I cried many tears here, and got over many heartbreaks. I thought I would never overcome my depression here. I spent time feeling connected to my Mom here, in the embrace of her precious things, which almost made up for the many years I unfairly lost with her. It has been my safe space for ages. It has been the place that I can run to when I need to break because I can’t possibly stand any longer. It has withstood every storm, standing strong in it’s place…and quite similarly…so have I.

The realization that my step-dad is about to put this house on the market has not been an easy one for me. It will be hard for a very long time. It is something I cry about and struggle with every day. It is losing my safe space, losing the last physical part of my Mom. It feels like she will really be gone once this house is occupied by a new family.

Oh, sweet house. Dear sweet house, though people may not think as highly of you because you have tiles over wallpaper, unfinished redecorating, blemishes, and stains…you are more than anyone could ever comprehend. No one could ever love you more.

As I stood outside in the starry, dark night with my boyfriend Braden the other day, looking at the house from an angle and crying while explaining to him how much anguish this has been causing me, I realized that the selling of this house is the end of my childhood. I never thought I had much of a childhood. Frankly, I felt I had been robbed of one because cancer, substance abuse, death, depression, and tears consumed much of it…however, as I cried about the loss of this house, I affirmed something I needed so deeply to know.

I had a childhood full of so much love, authenticity, and joy of the most genuine kind.

A house, I have found, can be a mirror onto yourself, to teach you about standing strong, hope, weathering storms, the dreary winters, the most intense and overbearing summer heat, torrential downpours, and utter wreckage and ruin..

I will take a part of you with me everywhere I go. I can’t imagine not having you, but I will love you from afar.

A house is full of your mom’s things, even though she doesn’t reside there anymore. She is heavenly.

As we decide which of my Mom’s things to keep and which to sell, thank you for teaching me that the best part of my Mom was a girl and the people who lived in you all along. That if I look in the mirror, if I look at my habits, and the most intrinsic parts of myself, I will find her, where she has always lived.

Thank you for being my safe space.

I am happy to think of one day, finding a new house, with my own family, that feels like just like home.

As for you, I know you will still be standing strong.

Thank you for teaching me that sometimes, a house can be a home.

I have seen and heard it all when it comes to this pandemic. I have heard all that is bad about it, and so much that is good. During this time there is so much to open your eyes to when thinking about all that has changed. I’m convinced that when you look for good, you will find it. I realized that I may never get a chance like this again; a chance for my life to slow down, to spend quality time with my family and loved ones, as frequent of a chance to sit in the stillness of time. The world has quieted. The air is clearer than ever. We are focusing our attention on the weakest ones. We are singing to neighbors across balconies, we are removing confines placed on teachers in the forms of standardized testing, we are cheering on doctors and nurses from our windows and streets. We are appreciating grocery store employees, janitors, and creatives more than ever. We are in our homes, but we aren’t locked up, with the key thrown away. Perhaps much has been unlocked for us.

Of course there are the down sides. People are losing income, worried and scared, amongst the plethora of emotions felt by humans globally. Many are out of whack, feeling isolated and lost. Some have family and friends who have become sick, which only adds to feelings of fear and concern. The coronavirus stay-at-home orders have become political, causing division when we should be united. This time is a double edged sword, as many things in life are.

For me, this pandemic arrived during my hardest semester of college. 18 credits, 20 hours of math remediation, and 40 hours of field experience that were required. Before COVID-19, I was rushed, exhausted, and overwhelmed. I was very much on the edge of having a serious nervous breakdown, if I did not already have one. When my university confirmed that the rest of the semester would be conducted remotely, I was filled with so many questions. What will happen to my 40 hours of field experience required for my education courses? How will I do required math tutoring to replace my praxis core online? What will my 6 online classes look like remotely? Will my professors be responsive to emails? Phone calls? I was doing so well in my classes, do I stand a chance now? I was forced to surrender, to throw my hands up and say, “I have no control over this situation. I am just going to keep up the hard work, and see how it plays out.” I was forced to slow down. To take a break. To flip the switch on moving 95 miles on hour like I was on a freeway.

Everything worked out. I navigated the online course work, talked with each of my professors, figured out how to complete math tutoring online. The work load was still extreme, and in some ways worse because it was all remote learning. For a while the stress was still just as present, even if I didn’t have to drive 2 hours a day to school and home anymore. However, my professors accommodated students to the best of their abilities, advocated for the students during such an unprecedented time, and I am a few weeks away from completing my hardest semester of undergrad ever.

I’m not sure how I feel. In some ways, I wish I didn’t do that to myself, taking 18 credits I mean. In other ways, I ‘m glad I did, because I pushed myself harder than ever before. I’m not sure if I am glad that things moved online or if I wish things had stayed the way they were before. In some ways, I missed out on part of the excitement of my classes. I missed out on my college routine. I missed out on car rides and music. On the other hand, I gained moments. I gained some peace, some stillness, and a breather that at some points felt heavenly because I was so overworked and overwhelmed.

I did have the chance during this strange time, to reflect on myself in a way that I have never yet done. I realized how many people care about me, but I have also realized how lonely I am. I danced slightly tipsy in the kitchen to ‘Dancing Queen’ with my sister on her 21st (quarantined) birthday at 11 PM. I have realized how important artists are: actors, authors, and musicians. They are the ones keeping the homebound sane with novels, sweet songs, and movies. As a writer, reader, thinker, and future literature teacher, this made my heart sing in a very special way. I have read scripture more, felt understood, and also realized my shortcomings. I have realized how strong I am, and also how I can be better, to myself and to others. I always knew this one: but I was reminded of how precious life is, and time itself.

If you are struggling in any way, take this time to remember that you are not alone. You are heard, felt, thought of, cheered on, and connected. Take this time to refresh, remind, realize, and reflect.

This time feels like a giant reset button. This too shall pass, and when it does, let us not forget how we used it to fill in the gaps, how we took time to slow down, to breathe, and to be still. To be still is a gift. As we return, let us take with us the appreciation of the simple things, daily and mundane tasks, and the slow days. Let us recognize when we are exhausting ourselves, our partners, our friends, our values, our simple moments. Let us not be afraid to take the time to fill in the gaps. To be still for as long as it takes.

I often find myself in the middle of a moment where I am feeling everything in the world. I have accepted these moments as happening regularly and part of being Paige. They have always been a part of my experience and I have yet to figure out how to change that. I don’t think I ever will. So in surrendering, I have found the good. If I didn’t feel deeply, I may not be a writer, or at the very least, a passionate one. If I wasn’t this way, I may not care about others and exhibit empathy the way that I do. I may not be able to relate to others’ so effortlessly. If I wasn’t this way, I doubt I would have much interest in being a teacher. I have been accused of being too sensitive and maybe I am, however, I have found that I am just in tune with the human experience. If you are going to live, you should feel every second of it. If I wasn’t this way, I wouldn’t be Paige, and I truly couldn’t imagine being anyone else.

I am a big believer in the practice of reflection. As my birthday approaches, I have reflected on my past year, and the experience of being 22. I have never experienced a year so vastly wild as this one. At 22 I experienced being on top of the world, and feeling devastation at the very bottom of it. I have never experienced such extremes in the course of a single year. This year, as wild as it was, has taught me so much about life, love, truth, and myself. I have yet to learn so much in a year as I did in this one. I experienced being truly heartbroken in the worst way after giving someone only my best for 7 years, but saw myself graduate community college, transfer to Shenandoah University ending my first semester with a 3.940 GPA, and find happiness again. I saw in myself for the first time just how capable I am. I learned to love myself for the first time in forever, which is incredibly freeing. I guess when Taylor Swift wrote “22” she knew what she meant when she said, “It’s miserable and magical, oh yeah”. I am ready for 23. I have a feeling it will be everything I need and more.

I’m supposed to be working on my final assignment of the semester, but as I’m doing so, I can’t help but find myself immersed into the thoughts of how truly wild this year has been. I know people articulate this sentiment often, but wow, what an eye-opening, whirlwind of a year. I have had years more devastating, though I never learned quite as much as I did in this one. I found myself feeling as though things were coming together, and as the feeling seeped into my awareness, suddenly things were a mess. I was truly heartbroken this year, profoundly so. I poured everything in, only to be left in the worst way. I couldn’t understand why my life needs to constantly feel overwhelming, however, it was in the darkness that I began to see the stars align. I learned the hardest lessons about what it means to truly love, and I found out who genuinely loves me. I was exposed to new scenery and saw in myself that I am stronger and more capable than I have ever given myself credit for. Then things began to make sense again, and I realized that when I thought they made sense before, they were sneakily masquerading. My final paper for my Writing About Literature class was one of the hardest assignments I have ever had to do. It was a 24 hour endeavor. When I received an A from the English departments hardest professor, I just sat in my chair in awe. A year that has felt so strange could also be the year that feels… just right. In more than one way…💕

‪I want to get a part of my favorite Fitzgerald quote tattooed on me. “I was within and without.” I believe Fitzgerald was one of the most influential and talented writers of all time. I also believe truly good literature is timeless. I was within and without describes every situation I have ever been in, I was within and without. Looking at my Dad in some of our final memories together as if I knew but didn’t know, I was within and without. Watching my Mom slip away from pain and my life on my 14th birthday, I was within and without. Sitting in the spot where my best friend and I used to laugh, I was within and without. Watching the person I loved for so long walk away from me like I wasn’t much of anything, I was within and without. Seeing the sunset over the mountains as I’m driving down the highway and breathe lightly, I was within and without. It’s amazing how literature unifies all experiences and makes us one.

A professor of mine asked me why when people say they aren’t good at math they can laugh about it and often do. Yet, when someone says they aren’t a good writer, there are often real tears involved.

Writing makes the human condition meaningful and worthwhile. It connects us all and it will always be necessary.

If you ever wonder why I love what I do, you shouldn’t.

This experience of being left when I was completely in love has been every emotion in the book. I have gone through every emotion I have ever felt in life, multiple times. It is the definition of an experience that ebbs and flows; constantly changing and shaking the one who goes through this. It has been awful. It has been eye-opening. It has been strangely refreshing, in all of the worst ways. I have come to some powerful realizations.

This is what I have come to.

You cannot make someone love you. You cannot make someone appreciate you. You cannot make someone see all the sunshine and beauty that you are. So if someone you love chooses to leave, remember that you cannot make them stay. You have to let them walk away if they so choose. It is one of the hardest things you will do. It helps to remind yourself that you just have to let them walk away from beautiful people, and let them live without them.

Branching off of my last point, this tsunami of emotion and pain that I’ve been experiencing has helped me understand how much I am truly going to appreciate when I do fall in love again, and that person doesn’t leave me. It has made me realize how amazing that time and person is going to be; when they see all that I am and how much I love them, and they make sure they don’t lose me. I am going to appreciate it a thousand times more because of this profound heartbreak.

When you experience any kind of rejection or someone leaves you in any way, shape, or form, it’s often tempting to ask yourself why you weren’t good enough. “Why wasn’t I good enough for this person? Why wasn’t I good enough for this situation?” That kind of rhetoric must be extinguished. You weren’t left because you lacked adequacy. Painful situations don’t arise because of anything you lack. I’m an English major and a Fitzgerald quote I like a lot keeps coming to mind. I have never necessarily read it and thought of it about myself. I don’t think about literature in such a shallow sense as to relate it to me. But lately I have been reading it, and it’s just hit a part of me that is settling, in a way. “She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful.”

The last thing I want to bring up that this experience has taught me, is that I cannot give away my heart fully. I, sadly and unfortunately, need to hold a decent size of it back. I love too deeply and when I hurt, I hurt with everything I have. So for my own protection, I will hold a piece of me back until I’m certain I can give my whole heart away. You can never be too certain, obviously… but until I’m certain enough that I can.

You have been through much worse than this. Even though that fact works both for and against the healer, it is true nonetheless. Remember that you are worth more than you give yourself most of the time, and maybe this is life’s way of giving you the best.

With love,

Paige Alexandra

Most will not understand. That’s okay. I just really wanted this on my blog somewhere in case I ever lose it on my computer.

The essay question: Hollywood movies aside was Alexander the all that “great”?

Some historians argue Alexander was in fact great while others argue that other than his conquests Alexander left little to merit his exalted historical reputation.

What makes a leader “great” and does Alexander meet your definition?

**Let’s stay in the past – no conversations about current politics allowed.  If you want to use an example of a “great” leader you are banned from using anyone still alive or anyone deceased less than 25 years.

 The essay:

“The question of whether a leader such Alexander is “all that great”;  is a question of morality and leadership. Military and socialistic objectives are often far removed form each other’s end goals.  As an example Alexander the Great may have won many battles, but his recourse was to kill the enemy’s military age men and put the women and children into slavery.  As a military objective Alexander always achieved his military goals by acquiring territory and battle victories, but victories of man do not make a victorious man.  History is littered with examples of great military leaders such as Hitler, Stalin,  and Genghis Kahn in which their military ingenuity is unquestionable; but the retribution they leave on the landscape and population is often a blight on the world we live in.  

The question of “what makes a leader great” is a question that we’ll decide at some point when we reach a perfect society.  That point in which we decide the difference between a Republican and a Democrat.  The point in which we all agree socially, economically, and politically. The truth is we can never truly figure out what makes a leader great because everyone has an altering opinion. At some point someone followed Hitler, someone followed Stalin, someone followed JFK and Ronald Reagan…some were good-some were bad. To put it in words to the best of my ability, a great leader conveys a message that many people are willing to follow and achieve their overall goals. No one knows what makes a great leader, but, Alexander the Great was great in his accomplishments, even though morally he did some things that many would disagree with.”

-Paige & Kevin, February 6, 2016 10:46 PM

Something I have recently become aware of is how much my studies can take away from what is important. What do you mean by that, Paige? Are your studies not important to you? No–they are. Here is what I mean.

My college journey in particular is one that is non-traditional. I did not go straight from high school to a university. (Well, I tried to and came home within the first week. Okay, not the point.) I am a community college student in my final stretch, and because I am a community college student, it is taking me a little bit longer to get done. There are many factors at play with that being said…I have to have a job while at community college so that has something to do with the amount of time it is taking me. I have also had some extremely difficult hurdles to overcome while in school that are completely out of my hands, such as the death of a loved one my first year of school. Due to having to work two jobs the majority of the time I have spent at community college, I usually do not take a full course load and hence, I am only a part-time student.  I am about to finish my summer classes, and finally be in the homestretch of my associates degree! It feels good to say the least, but I have recently come to a realization that I wish I had come to sooner.

I have stressed so much over college in my time since graduating high school. There has been this push from inside myself to “get there”, no matter the stress or anxiety the work and life along with it puts me through. Drive is a good thing, but it in this case, it reveals its negative twist. In this phase of my life I am currently in, I am struggling to get to where I want to be, and I have seen the worst parts of myself since I started college.

The other day I was watching my stepfather clean fish outside on the picnic table, when I just looked at him and began to tear up. It probably sounds so silly to someone reading this, but it’s true. In that moment, I became fully aware of him. You may be wondering what I mean by that. In that moment that I was standing there looking at him, I was filled with this sense of complete awareness that my stepdad is seventy and amazing. I began to see this moment as a gift wrapped in shiny paper and a bow, and I wondered just how many simple, sweet moments like this one that I had missed because I was stressing, worrying, or drowning myself in too much work. Some may say, “Well, you can’t think like that.” But sometimes we do, and it awakens us. It is sometimes the light inside of us that says, “Hey, you don’t have to live like this.”

We all want to reach our goals. I know it is going to feel so incredibly good when I walk across the stage and receive my degree. I think often about how rewarding that day will be. However, I just hope that when I get there, I won’t look out onto the view and think that I missed the adventure, that I was irritable to those I love most because I was stressed, or that I missed simple sweet moments. So I challenge you, is there a degree, a job, a relationship that you are giving up too much of your own self for? Take ownership of your life and change it. Adjust your focus, and your stress level with it. Remember that you are not less because you are not where you want to be. You will get there, but you don’t want to look at the view and have missed the adventure.

“Well, change is a part of life, Paige.” The very sentence that pierces my heart each time I try to open up and speak to someone about how difficult change is for me. Whether it’s involving something big, or something small, change is hard for me. Of course the drastic changes are the hardest but small things get me, too.

Change has always been difficult for me, but in recent years I have learned the extent. Of course, you want to ask “Why?” “Why is this so hard for me?” “If change is a normal part of life, why do I have so much difficult with it?” The truth is there could be a variety of reasons why change is hard for me, and I have thought about all of them. It may not even be one of those reasons, it could be a combination of many of those things. Either way, it is important to remember that change is hard for everyone, it might just be a little harder for me.

I grapple a lot with the fact that one day, my stepdad is going to sell my mom’s house. My heart stings every time he reminds me. I know, it’s just a house. It means a lot more to me though, because this house is the last house she ever lived in, and I can still feel her here. I can still walk down the stairs and imagine her carrying a laundry basket down them on a Sunday afternoon with her hair halfway up in her clip. Her things are placed all around me, most of them still in their original places, set there by her. I know selling the house wouldn’t just mean selling her last home, it would mean getting rid of and selling a lot of her belongings too. Things that after my siblings and I decide on who gets what, we simply won’t have room for all of it.

I have come to learn that we don’t fear change itself, we fear what that change brings. We fear the sadness, we fear a loss of something else. In a sense, I do feel that in selling this home, I would be losing a part of my Mom-the only physical tangible part left of her, and I just don’t know if I could do it. Sometimes I think that it would break me, that I would start the grieving process all over again.

I wish I was writing this to tell you: here’s what to do if you feel like this, too. Here is the answer. Instead, I am telling you: here is how I feel in my experience, and here is what I think we can shift our focus to.

The selling of my Mom’s house would not be for a couple more years, until my brother graduates high school. By that time, who knows where I will be. Either way, it will be hard. But for me, it helps me to realize that if I can make it through moving out of my first house, the only house where both of my parents lived together with us, then I can get through this. It also helps me to remember that I feel my Mom many times throughout my daily life, it is not exclusive to in this home.

To reiterate, I don’t have the answers, I am just a 21-year-old girl rambling. I have determined that in my situation, this particular change boils down to 2 H’s: Helpful and Hard. I feel so blessed that my stepdad was able to keep this house for so long after my Mom passed away, allowing us to see it out for many more years, holidays, and milestones. But at the same time, keeping this house has also been hard, because I do see so much of my Mom in it. I think in every change, we can see there are two angles, the sad and the happy, the helpful and the hard, the good and the bad. For me, the reason change is so hard for me, is because usually change has been associated with negatives. You know, someone dying, a loss of something else. I think that most of the reason that change is difficult for me is due to how I feel things so deeply. The good news?

God made me who I am, and he loves all of it, even the parts that make my life harder. He made me the woman who feels. I pray he gives me the courage and the strength to embrace what He allows me to feel so deeply. Lord, give me the strength to feel your love overpower my fear of finding the pain in change. Lord, allow me to feel your love more than I feel or think of anything else.

Sometimes we forget. Today was one of those days, as I dragged myself around in lethargy to my daily routines and responsibilities. All it takes though, is just a single moment of goodness, to remind us of the truth that is our purpose and our very being itself. At the end of my day, one child was left at work, and the parent came to pick him up. We began to talk about a few things when he told me, “Paige, you have climbed Mount Everest. It must feel good to know that anything anyone could ever complain about is infinitely small because you have already climbed the tallest mountains. I hope all three of my daughters grow up to be as strong and as incredible as you are.” I did not know that this person knew anything about me, as we had never delved deep into conversation. As tears fell down my cheek, I was grateful for them because they came from a place of human fatigue that was anchored in profound strength. This feeling was, I imagine, similar to standing at the top of your most difficult mountain to climb, and realizing the view is unbelievable. Thanks be to those mountains for helping me to appreciate everything more. It is evident that we all need that single moment to remind us when we forget. The moment that reminds us just how remarkable we are when we are barely trekking along, and inadvertently brings us back to our most beautiful view. Thankful for a Father who generously sings over me that I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

I recently received a Facebook message from a woman I don’t know, but that knew my Mom. She used to work with my Mom at her first paralegal position. She said that she was thinking about my Mom tonight, and wanted to look me up to see if I was on Facebook. She is the one who actually suggested to my Mom that she name me Paige. She went on to tell me that I don’t know her, but that she feels like she knows me and sees so much of my Mom in me.

As my eyes filled up with tears, I responded to her, thanking her for reaching out. It really is things like that that make me feel like God is working in my life through other people to fill a gap that will always be there. I told this woman that perhaps she’s “known” me all along, because my name fits me so well.

She then told me that Page is her middle name, a surname actually. Beth Page being her name. She said she’s always loved her middle name, and that’s why she suggested it to my Mom. The comfort I received from and in her message is indescribable. That day seemed like such a normal day, but that message made it different than the rest. I felt peace.

To further my point, if you feel like reaching out to someone you don’t know, have a story of someone’s parent who has passed on, please reach out to them, please tell them. It is so, so very comforting.

Thanks be to God for the little things.

Sunday after mass I went to visit my Mom. I had a lot of stuff I wanted to tell her, and some answers I needed to get. After I had spent about 25 minutes talking out loud to her, a truck pulled up. I started to talk quieter, because I’ve found that when there are strangers around, I feel awkward visiting departed loved ones. A man got out and said hello, I said hi back. He made his way over, looked at me, looked at the grave, and asked, “Grandmother? Mother? Friend?” I said, “This is my Mom.”

He immediately started to tear up, and told me as he pointed to the grave to the left of my Mom’s, “This is my son, he died at 21 and this is my wife. She called me on the 21st of December saying the right side of her face was numb. It turned out she had brain cancer and she died 17 days later.” Tears fell from my eyes. I responded, “My Mom had cancer too.” He shook his head, crying again.

He asked me how old my Mom was when she died. I told him 41, as well as included the details of how old I was when she was diagnosed, and how long she fought for. Toward the end of my conversation I said, “It doesn’t make sense how she was declared cancer free and it can just come back.” He looked at me and said, “I’ll tell you something Paige…it’s bullshit.” I laughed. He continued, “I have spent countless hours on the internet researching cancer, and how much money has been poured into researching it?” “Yeah…” I said. He looked down and that topic kind of faded into the clear air.

He then began to tell me all about his son, his wife, and all of the plans he and his wife made together. He said,”Our pool we just got finished is so beautiful. It cost 48,000 dollars. She was so excited, but she will never get to swim in it.” My eyes started to tear up again. He then said, “I’m really sorry about your Mom.”

As I looked around, picked up a piece of grass, I responded, “It’s okay…it’s been a while.” He introduced himself to me, and I said, “I’m Paige” and half-smiled.

He said, “I’m all alone now”, and continued to pour out his heart to me. He told me how he cleaned the garage today just to have something to do and he ended up finding his wife’s tools she used to cut her tomatoes. He looked down, and said, “I can’t help but cry every day.” I told him, “I wish I had the answers, but I don’t. I try to make the best of it, because…what can you do? You know?” He said, “I like your attitude, Paige.” I cried again and said thanks.

I asked him if he wanted my number, and he immediately said, “no that’s okay.” I was thinking he would be welcome to come over one day and meet my stepdad. I pictured them in my mind as being able to develop a compatible friendship. As I said it, I hoped it didn’t come across the wrong way. Sometimes my friendly innocence can do that. Shortly after a little pause, he said, “Maybe I’ll see you here again. I live 3 minutes away.”

He finally said, “Well I’m going to go Paige.” I said okay, and as he got into his truck he started it, but quickly turned it off. I thought it might have been a mistake but when I looked up, I saw him walking back over to me. He told me, “I saw your bumper sticker says fight like a girl, and I had to show you this. You’re going to love it. This is Bonnie, my beautiful wife. Isn’t she beautiful?” I answered, “Wow, she’s gorgeous.” It was a picture of her wearing a fight like a girl shirt. I said, “Here. This is a picture of my Mom.” He said, “Wow…she’s young.” I responded back, “Yeah, in that picture.” He looked at me with a silly look on his face and said, “41 is still very young.”

Anyway, I feel like I was supposed to meet that man today. I wasn’t able to stop crying the rest of that day, but a good cry, you know? Everyone is hurting, but what we need is Love. We can’t fight pain with more pain. We need to be that one to reach out and say, “I understand, it’s okay, tell me more.” The sun, ironically, was that Sunday’s most noticeable feature, and all I can say is that it’s sunny inside my heart too, regardless of the pain.

I wonder what you’d say about the world

I wonder what you’d say about me

I wonder what you’d be like

If you were here with me

Would we drive around at midnight

Laughing hysterically

Or would we sit by the lake and chat just like old times

Would you still follow the same line of thinking

Or would you have changed your ways

I never will get to know

Just who you’d be today

I’m sure I’d love you as much

Really if not more

I’m sure you’d be there to lift me up

When the going gets tough

I tell myself you’re in a better place

I try to fully understand

And ask you for direction

I still need your helping hand

I’m trying to make sense of my life and purpose here

I’m trying to move forward

It’s hard without you here

I’m applying to some schools to move on and change my life

It’s just not happening at home

I need to finish my degree

And have the career I so vividly described

Some days drag on and others fly by

But in every one I think of you

Love is stronger than death

It will never erase you