Heather’s thirtieth birthday was only a few months after Maddie passed away. For many people this is a milestone birthday, one where you look around and feel good about what you’ve achieved in life, but for Heather it was just another depressing reminder that everything she’d been working toward had been blown to pieces.
Jackie also had a less than desirable milestone around that time – the first anniversary of her diagnosis. To get away from it all, the three of us decided to go to Catalina Island for the weekend. Catalina is only twenty-two miles off the California coastline, but we were hoping that it would feel like a lot more.
The most common way to go to Catalina is by ferry, and each of us had traveled there that way in the past. On this trip, however, we decided to go by helicopter. None of us had been in one before, and when we got to the heliport we were a bit nervous. Our unease didn’t last long though as after a couple minutes the gallows’s humor set in.
“What are we so afraid of?” we wondered. “Jackie has terminal cancer and our baby just died. If there’s ever a time not to care if the helicopter goes down it’s now!”
With that thought in mind we all piled into the helicopter and flew into the sky. We were used to being in the air in a gigantic airplane, but in a cockpit not much bigger than the interior of a car? That was surreal. It almost felt like the wind could blow us away at any moment. The view from up there was pretty amazing though:
We soon landed on Catalina and it was as beautiful as ever. Of course, we had only ever been there in happier times, so this trip felt different. We tried out best to enjoy ourselves nonetheless, and ignore our problems.
After checking into the hotel we went out to dinner. In earlier, happier times we would have celebrated with a drink or two, but times had changed. I no longer drank (and still don’t), having recently quit after leaning on the bottle too much following Maddie’s passing, and Heather was pregnant with Annie, so she wasn’t drinking either. That left Jackie alone to drink, and Heather and I weren’t going to let her forget it.
“Have another, Jackie!” Heather said after Jackie finished her first drink. “One for me!”
Not long after that I added, “You gotta have one for me too!”
Jackie was happy to oblige, and by the end of dinner there was a lot of laughter at that table, far more than anyone would imagine from a trio like us.
We soon grew somber, however, and took a quiet, reflective walk on the beach. In the morning, when we woke, we learned that Farah Fawcett had passed away. This saddened Jackie because she had seen a documentary on Farrah and her battle with cancer and could relate to a lot of what she experienced.
A few hours later Twitter blew up on our phones with a rumor that Michael Jackson had died. Eventually, after searching the Internet on our phones, we learned that it was indeed true.
“This sucks for Farrah,” Jackie said. She felt bad about Michael Jackson too, but she didn’t like that Farrah’s death would undoubtedly be overshadowed by his. Jackie admired Farrah as someone who had been on a similar journey as hers, and felt she deserved better than to be relegated to a footnote. It was yet another example of how Jackie was empathetic, and so cared about others.
We made our way back to the heliport and watched the news on a TV as we waited for takeoff. It showed mobs of people gathering outside the hospital where Michael Jackson was taken – the hospital, it turned out, where Annie was to be born. The hospital where Farrah died, perhaps not incidentally, was the one where Maddie was born. It was a weird day.
We took the helicopter back to the mainland, and once again felt at peace with whatever might happen. There is good that can come from accepting what comes and not being afraid of where life takes you. Accepting that uncertainty, in fact, is one of the keys to enlightenment in zen Buddhism, if I remember correctly from the Eastern Religion class I took in college long ago.
That day, high up in the clouds, was the closest I’ve ever come to understanding that philosophy. Somewhere along the way though I’ve since lost track of it, and I’m not sure I’ll ever find it again. It’s hard to be accepting of anything that may come when life has proven it can be so cruel.
defendUSA says:
When the pain lessens and Jackie!s light shines through in your heart like the stars that light up the night, it will take away the darkness and there you’ll be. I promise.
Lanie says:
I too thought at one point after our first son fed that I had reache that place of accepting (not over it or ok with his death). After our 2nd son died I am lost too. Not sure if I will ever find that place again.
If I do I will send you directions. Till then I am sending hugs, peace and hope. I wish I had more to offer. xo
Casey says:
I loved this story. Thank you for sharing it.
K-Line says:
Mike: I don’t comment often but I have to tell you how beautiful this post is. I feel like I participated, in some way, on that bizarre and healing weekend you had. And I understand how acceptance can be so fleeting. You have had a hell of a few years, on the spectrum of loss. I pray for your family and I appreciate how you show us, every day, that life is good and hilarious and silly, even as it can crush us with grief. The paragraph about gallows humour you bandied around on that trip made me laugh and cry at the same time. You really have experienced the highs and lows of the human experience. And while I can imagine you would do whatever you can to avoid the lows (as we all would), it makes you a complicated and compassionate person. Small comfort, I know.
Melli says:
Good post
Melli says:
PS- I’m BEGGING you to do a post on this new show on TLC “Honey boo boo child”. I’m part disgusted by their parenting & I partly feel sorry for them. Thanks a bunch!
Candice says:
Thank you for sharing. It’s obvious you cared deeply for Jackie. I’m sorry for your loss.
Jana says:
“There is good that can come from accepting what comes and not being afraid of where life takes you.” Very powerful and gave me goosebumps when I read it. You are an AMAZING man Mike.
Colleen from MN says:
If I could pick any words that define me, it would be “It is what it is.” I think that in order to live in a world where things sometimes make no sense, you have to see things for what they are and live anyway. It doesn’t always help to understand why, just accept and make a mental note to understand later.
AngieM. says:
beautiful story mike. thanks for sharing it.
xoxo
Amber says:
Our first daughter was born and passed away that same week. It was one hell of a week. Ed McMahon died that week as well.
It is a week I will never forget and it sounds like you guys won’t either.
Pattie says:
Amber, I’m so sorry to hear that about your baby girl. Hugs from Tennessee.
Skye says:
I’m not good at that philosophy, either. It is so hard. I’m sorry you guys and Jackie! were both dealing with such difficult things at the same time. I’m glad it made you even more understanding and supportive of each other, but it still sucks (huge understatement, of course). I am so sad for you.
Pattie says:
Thank you for sharing this beautiful story with us, Mike. Again, I’m sorry for your losses.
Sara says:
I know this wasn’t really the point of the post, but I read everything in a very different way. Because, you see, the day that Farrah and Michael died? That was the day my daughter was born. Your post, though taking place thousands of miles away and three years ago, just transported me.
On that day, I remember saying to my husband, “Maybe that just means our daughter will have striking good looks or an amazing voice!” I don’t actually believe in reincarnation, but it was just a thought that something so amazing could not be lost from the world and would be brought back in the children.
I hope that babies born on the day that Jackie passed will be just as beautiful as she was inside and out, a tribute to her kind heart.
I’m so sorry for your loss.
TamaraL says:
That was a beautiful story, Mike.
I echo Jackie’s sentiments…because I had 1) forgotten that Farrah had died and 2) really forgotten that she died when MJ did. I had just had surgery and was still in the hospital and pretty sedated with Ambien (which does cloud a memory) but MJ’s death has been highly publicized.
So that was all just a sidenote, but I really enjoyed your story.
Jennifer says:
This was a beautiful post Mike. Thank you for sharing.
Beth Mariel says:
Dearest Mike, life sure can be cruel — but there are many joys it brings us to compensate for the pain. Stay strong, we’ll always be behind you
Lindsey says:
Wow….such an amazing, powerful, thought-provoking post. Every post I read about Jackie makes me understand the more how much the world — and especially her friends and family — has lost. We should all be so lucky to have such incredible bonds with our loved ones. I pray you and Heather can feel some kind of peace in your losses. Sounds impossible, though….not peace but acceptance, I guess, is the better word. I think about my deceased brother all the time and when I hear train whistles in the night, it brings him back to me because we used to talk late into the night and I would hear train whistles through his phone and say ‘the trains are telling us to hang up and get to bed!!!’. I thank God for train whistles!!
Auntie_M says:
Yes! What she said! (minus the train whistles, of course, because that is her special memory alone)
edenland says:
Mike I love this post. My love and thoughts are with you, mate. A lot. Xxx
Auntie_M says:
Oh Mike…!
How very blessed Jackie was to have such wonderful friends as you & Heather. This post was beautiful. Her legacy grows. Thank you.