Our Story

Timing is a funny thing.  It comforted me when I decided to quit my doctoral program in December of 2003.  Soon after, Mom's cancer returned, and I moved back home without regrets of completing my academic marathon.  Timing can be brilliant for self-preservation.  Sometimes, the magic of timing reconfirms the kismet nature of all that is meant to be.  This happened when I realized I "liked-liked" Jeremy in college.  After a week of not being able to eat (this never happens), I finally realized that my good friend had stumbled into the land of "Hey, let's kiss!" instead of "Wanna eat some tacos for lunch?"  It was a Sunday, and I tried to track him down.  Finally, at 1am, I sat in front of the campus library, exhausted from my daylong search.  Then, he walks up to the library entrance to study for a test.  I confessed my love, he said thank you, he bought nice, pleated pants the following week for a date and the rest is love-history.  Timing brought me him. 

So, Lady Time, has graced me with her whimsy and magic a few times.  This last week, she threw me a doozy. I can’t help but think that Mom was slightly amused.  And, she completely expected it all.

Mom,

I know I keep you alive with my words and actions.  Therapy taught me this, and it works…on most days.  I have figured out how to bear the sad days without you.  It’s the proud moments where I find myself foraging through the past to feel and see your pride.  Twelve days ago I stood in front of a lovely sea of speech-language pathologists and audiologists and talked to them about my profession.  I worked hard for months, and the morning was grand.  When they asked me to speak last fall, I started crying.  And, I really haven’t stopped.  I just know you would have been so proud.  So, I found a way for you to be there.  I shared our stories.  I told them about Dad being a POW after the war.  I showed them your wedding photo.  I told them our most meaningful tale—you and Dad escaped Vietnam in the middle of the night.  Gold bars were exchanged with the Vietcong for passage to Hong Kong.  Dad navigated a 10 feet by 80 feet wooden boat holding the hopeful wishes of 56 people.  Then, Mom, I told them about the storm.  Strong winds rocked the boat from side to side, each time bringing all passengers closer to the depths of the South China Sea.  It was going to capsize. The audience was in awe when I recounted how the whale appeared and held the boat upright until the waters calmed.  They clapped when I said everyone arrived safely after 11 days on the water.  They gasped when I revealed that you were 9 months pregnant, and they smiled when they realized I was born the following day.  The day was the culmination of our family’s hard work.  

For an hour and half, life’s timing aligned:  my passion for my job, our family history and validation that abiding by my true self is always the best route.  Jeremy sat in the audience, and his pride was overflowing.  Jennifer and her wet eyes were there, too.  Between the two of them, I know they tried their best to represent you.  And, they were successful.  Afterwards, I sat on my hotel bed, ate a big burger and settled my happy heart and 8-months-of-pregnancy-body down for a much needed nap. 

The big day was over, and I was ready for calmer days.  My intuition was wrong, and Lady Time let me know that I was not in control.  The very next evening my water broke in the hotel room.  I was only 34 weeks pregnant.  We drove 100 miles in the middle of the night to get back to Austin.  It was a peaceful day of laboring and (more) hard work.  With each contraction, I would turn inward and gain strength from the women in my life.  Their voices and encouragement would take me through the intensity of my body’s work.   When I had to work the hardest, I saw you behind my closed eyes, holding the baby we lost last year.  Your voice did not waver, and your words brought me so much comfort.  After pushing for a few minutes, I gave birth to your grandson.  I have a boy, Story Matthew Palafox.  

Two girls and a boy—just like our family.  I can’t help but think that it’s more than just coincidence.  Time seems to be repeating herself.  There’s a part of me that strangely feels that I was supposed to have him the day after our meaningful moment on that stage.  My moment did not involve a boat, a storm or a whale, but it surely contained some pretty big feelings.  Gut says that you held onto powerful feelings while on that small vessel. Time found a way to weave a common, connected thread between us.  Though unintentional, I am the exact age you were when Dan was born.  Time has a sense of humor and fun, as well.

A few days ago, someone asked me how I was doing with everything without you here.  And, to be honest, I realized that my usual heartache has dulled this past year.  I have found ways for you to be a part of my days.  I miss you terribly, but I found comfort and light in the smallest of life’s crevices.  I just keep my eyes open a bit more.  Time has given me scope and strength.  Time has also kindly given me sweet reminders that our lives are continually connected.  Me and you, Mom.