Where You're Going

Before Jason passed away, I wrote a song for him. I never had the guts to sing it to him, or to anyone else but my brother and his girlfriend. However, the song has served as such a strength to me in helping me cope with his passing, and I'm beginning to wonder if it would do the same for anyone else who has mourned his passing, or the passing of another loved one recently.

So here are the lyrics. Soon, I'll post a video of me performing it...

Where You're Going

Where you're going is beautiful
And the gift of knowing helps keep me whole
'Cause I know that one day I want to be
Where you're going

So will you please save a plot for me
Next to your place, or across the street
'Cause I know that one day I want to be
Where you're going

Promise me you'll wait
To usher me through heaven's gate
I'll meet you there one sweet day
We'll be together again

But until then, I'll do all I can
To be a good friend; I'll try to be as good a man
As you are 'cause I want to be
Where you're going

Where you're going is a special place
There's no crying, there's no sickness, and there's no pain
Everybody's happy to be
Where you're going

So promise me you'll wait
To usher me through heaven's gate
I'll meet you there one, one sweet day
We'll be together again

But til that time comes, I'm gonna live each day
As if it was my last one, and I promise to keep the faith
And walk as you did, 'cause I want to live
In that special place where now you wait
I would give anything to be
Where you're going
Where you're going

The Parable of the Chicken Pot Pie

Jason and I have known each other half of our lives. When we were 12 or 13, he moved from the beautiful islands of Hawaii to the overcast wetlands of Tacoma. Our families became close, and we told people we were cousins.

Then my cousin Sailau came home from Japan when we were 15, and she moved in with us. We became brother and sister, we grew so close during those years. So when she and Jason started dating, we had to make the adjustment from calling Jason our "cousin" to calling him "our sister's boyfriend." Complicated? Try explaining to people why your cousin is dating your sister!

Jason and Sailau were on-again, off-again high school sweethearts that became a beautiful wedded couple. They are so cute together, and watching them grow from teenage lovebirds to parents of 3 children has been entertaining and inspiring. Though their lives have had their own share of drama (like everyone else's), I've been so proud of how much Jason and Sailau have grown and matured as people, as a couple, and as loving parents.

Jason has always been very athletic, very vibrant, and very active. So when I found out that he had cancer, I was a bit shocked. I was even more perturbed when Jason started getting hospitalized. At first, I reacted the way I always do: I went numb, and I steered clear from the situation as much as I could. A month ago, however, Sailau called me, and asked me to come visit her and Jason at the hospice where he was staying. She sounded like she really needed some support, and it was on the way of an area I planned on visiting that afternoon anyway.

I remember walking into that room for the first time: there were only 3 people there: Sailau, Jason, and our cousin Christian. i awkwardly greeted everyone, and sat in a chair. We talked pleasantries for a while before we started making fun of the rich kids on an MTV show that was on. Time went on, and more of it passed by than I originally anticipated before I made a weak exit. They were very appreciative of my little visit, and though I felt anxiety from being there, I felt that I needed to come back again, soon.

I returned the next day, Easter Sunday. Much more of the family was there this time, and I remember feeling closer to them than I had in a very long time. We had a great meal and spent much time talking together, singing for Jason, and enjoying the company of loved ones. Because of my crazy schedule and my lazy habits during the few leisurely weekends I do get to myself, I had chosen not to spend a lot of time with my family, and I'd forgotten how good it could feel to do so. I think I was touched more that day by the love in that hospice room than I had been in a very long time.

I came back to visit Jason every single day after that. I found myself thinking about him and Sailau and the kids constantly while at work, at church, or wherever else I was. After work, my arms and legs would automatically drive me to that hospice house, and I'd visit that room full of love, and be filled by it. Other members of the family would visit daily as well, and we all grew to love each other so much through the service we rendered Jason and his family. During this month, I gained friendships with family I had either barely met or had never known. I saw people of all races, ages, and religious affiliations come through that room to visit Jason, and bond with everyone else there. It has been one of the most incredible phenomenas to watch unravel.

Jason demonstrated this phenomenon to me one afternoon during a quick visit I made before work. He was wide awake and aware, and was in a great mood when I walked into the room. I told him I was there for a quick pitstop, and he offered me food and drink before I lef, like any good family member would. I declined, having no honest appetite at the time. He sighed and told me not to refuse, and once again requested that I visit the kitchen to make myself a plate. I politely turned it down again, explaining that I was truly not hungry, and that I'd take another break soon for lunch. He started getting upset with me, telling me that he really wanted me to eat something, and that he was not kidding. He told me that there was a chicken pot pie on the kitchen table that he was not going to be able to eat, and that wanted me to take it to work with me. After insisting twice more, I finally obliged, and promised I'd take it to work with me. The rest of the family members there coaxed me on, reminding me that Jason really wanted me to do it, and to make him happy. After thanking Jason again, and reassuring him that I really did have the chicken pot pie with me, and promising him that I would eat it, I left the hospice house, and arrived at work 30 minutes before my next lesson would begin.

I remember sitting in the back room, and setting my things down. I noticed a sudden and slight pain in my stomache: I WAS getting hungry after all. I had been up for 4 or 5 hours, and had skipped breakfast. I looked at that chicken pot pie, and immediately thought of Jason. How did he know that this would happen? That I really would get hungry, and need that pie? Gratefully, I sat down and finished that pot pie in 5 minutes flat. It satisfied me more than a chicken pot pie normally would, because I appreciated it more today. To me, that pie represented the love and wisdom of a loved one who refused to back down, and who looked out for his own, despite my stubborness.

Over the next couple weeks, I saw Jason help facilitate growth, healing, and maturation in the lives of all of those around him. Looking back now, I am amazed at the things he was able to accomplish from his hospital bed. He helped mend rifts in relationships that had fallen apart over the last few years, bring together old friends who hadn't spoken in a long time, create everlasting bonds between strangers, release the positive sides of pessimistic people, inspire hope in cynics, and encourage the good in an otherwise cruel world. All through simple things like a forgiving word, a pretty song, or a delicious chicken pot pie.

Last Tuesday, Jason was called back to our heavenly home. At the young age of 25, Jason had already fulfilled his mortal life's measure. There's no doubt he was good at taking care of things in a timely manner; it was obvious how well he'd done that in the way he prepared his wife, his kids, and his family for his departure. Over the last month, Jason taught me a lot about life's biggest priorities: life well-lived before God and yourself, love everlasting that is grown and nurtured through family ties and bonds of true friendship, and the pursuit of happiness that is fulfilled by the measure of your granting it to others. All it took for me to learn this valuable lesson was the cost of gas to get to the hospice house, time well spent visiting my brother in law, and a chicken pot pie I'll never forget.

A Beautiful Weekend

This weekend has been so full for me. So much has gone on, I can barely begin to describe it.

This weekend was all about Meaghan for me. I learned - and FELT! - so much over the last few days. Friday was a normal crazy work day. On top of that, though, I was preparing a huge poster and her dance book for Meaghan's Memorial. It was quite a project that included finding the right pictures, sizing them appropriately, cutting them into the right shapes, matching the right colors, stenciling letters, pasting pieces together, and a few other creative skills. The project took me time at work, plus hours afterwards. That night, I didn't go to bed until 6:30 the next morning.

I got up an hour and a half later to get to Meaghan's memorial. It was one of the most beautiful memorial services I've ever attended. The chapel was set on a small island, overlooking the sound. It was a beautiful day, few clouds, warm sun, and a light breeze. Everyone wore beautiful colors to the service, in honor of Meaghan's wish for it to be a celebratory event; and everywhere you looked, you saw butterflies - a symbol of new life that Meaghan loved and admired. Still, we all shed tears as family and friends shared cherished memories of Meaghan's inspiring life, and her motivating and wise words. Even I shed a few tears. It was so nice to be able to feel like that again, as strange as it may sound. I can't remember the last time I cried; it's been years.

That evening, I had dreams - swirls of detached, nonsensical memories that I will never recall. The only feelings I can remember are those of a calm, nostalgic, and underlyingly happy tone. After 4 hours on Saturday night, I woke up and quickly dressed for the 14 hour work day I had ahead of me. When I got into the car, the first thing I noticed was the program from Meaghan's memorial service on the passenger seat. Immediately I was hit with the realization that she was not going to be joining us this time for our Showcase, and the reality of her passing finally started to dawn on my slow brain. My eyes began to mist, and I prepared myself mentally and spiritually as I drove, asking God to help me make it through the long day ahead. The one thing that came to me was the words of Meaghan's mother the day she came and delivered us the news about Meaghan's passing: "Meaghan may not be there physically, but she will be at Showcase spiritually. Look for her, she will show herself there. She's already shown us she's still here."

At the Showcase, there was so much to do, so many people to take care of, so much to see! It wasn't until around noon that I finally saw it - the butterfly gown! As soon as I saw it, I knew! Meaghan WAS there, and I immediately felt uplifted! I almost heard a voice in my head say, "See? I told you so!" I touched the beautiful insects that garnished the elegant dress, and admired it with more fervor than a boy should. I was not ashamed, though; this was what I was looking forward to see - the sign that Meaghan was still alive somewhere.

I keep thinking back to the service, and pondering some very wise words that Meaghan shared with her best friend, and her best friend shared with us: whenever her friend would cry due to Meaghan's health, Meaghan would say,"Please don't cry. I don't want you to be sad. I don't want to be sad; I want to be happy. I want to smile!" And she would! Meaghan ALWAYS smiled! She was always so positive and upbeat. She never let you know that she was in physical pain when she was. She never felt sorry for herself, or let others feel sorry for her. She was a fighter! When the doctors told her she had less than a year to live, Meaghan didn't sit and sulk; she pushed passed their words, and proved them wrong by almost 15 years! She always had time to make someone else's day better, and she always did her best to make sure everyone else was happy. She taught us the importance of every single day, and every present moment. She didn't dwell on the past, and she never tried to rush into the future. She was grateful for today!

Meaghan is the type of person that I want to be! She proved that it didn't matter what type of trials you're asked to endure; that the thing that counted was the way you lived your life! She didn't make excuses, she didn't solicit special treatment, she didn't let herself get defeated. I admire her so much, and a part of me wishes she were still here so I could continue to have her positive influence on my life here with me today. However, I am grateful for the knowledge of a divine plan that keeps us eternally entwined, and look forward to the day I'll be able to be in her company again.

If you're reading this Meaghan, I want you to know that I love you so much, and am eternally grateful for the blessing that it is to have had you in my life these last couple of years!

Dance Angel

I have the amazing opportunity of working with people of all different walks of life in my profession, and change their lives through dancing. As a teacher, you love all of your students. All of them are special, and all of them have a meaningful place in your heart. I want to share the story of one student who has been an inspiration to us all, and who prompted my charitable passions for the American Heart Association.

When she first walked into our studio in November of 2007, we had no idea that Meaghan Hicks dealt with a serious heart condition like Pulmonary Hypertension. She was much too energetic, much too happy, and much too full of life to be sick! Just like many of our students, Meaghan watched “Dancing With the Stars” religiously, and dreamed about becoming an amazing dancer herself. Though she had an early background in gymnastics, it had been a while since Meaghan had been able to participate in extraneous physical activity, especially one like dancing. But earlier that year, Meaghan received a blessing she’d waited years for: a double lung and heart transplant. Now the girl that was told 14 years earlier that she might never live to see her 14^th birthday was given the chance to experience life as many doubted she would. Guess what was the first thing she wanted to do? That’s right, she wanted to dance!

Nine months after the day of her transplant (what she deemed her “2^nd Birthday”), Meaghan’s body was ready to keep up with her vital spirit, and she started dancing. No one smiled bigger than Meaghan when she was on the dance floor! Every moment was magical, and she made the most of them. We had to start out slower than she liked, and it frustrated her every time she had to take a quick break. I remember the first day, after her 4^th or 5^th lesson, when Meaghan was able to go the entire 40 minute block without a pit stop. We whooped and hollered in celebration!

We celebrated often and loudly during every step of Meaghan’s dance progression, and it was those times we reminisced on when Meaghan would get sick, and have to take a break from her dancing. Sometimes, it was only a couple days or so. Then there were the months that wiped out her strength. These were the times that upset Meaghan the most. I still remember her first holiday season with Arthur Murray's: Meaghan was too ill to come in for dance lessons, but it would not deter her from stopping by the studio to spread cheer. Meaghan was too weak to leave the car, so she watched from the parking lot as her mother came in and dropped off gifts Meaghan prepared for her Arthur Murray family. We practically broke the doors down on our way out to greet her in her vehicle. She was so happy to see us, and so sad she couldn’t dance, that she cried a mixed batch of tears as her teachers cheered on the good health we knew would return, and conversed about the next time we’d get to dance together.

Meaghan is a huge supporter of the school. In celebration of her transplant anniversary, Meaghan joined us for her first Winter Showcase. She was majestic in her beautiful black gown. Her mother cheered along with our Tacoma Arthur Murray family as Meaghan performed her first Tango solo. No one beamed bigger than Meaghan did that day. Even as she departed before dinner that evening (due to fatigue), Meaghan smiled and wished the teachers the best of luck for our Professional Show. Later in the year, Meaghan joined us at our American Heart Association Pre-Gala as our special guest ambassador. She gave a very inspirational speech to an audience of strangers, and performed her improved Tango solo after being back in the studio for just 2 days. And as soon as our school was established on Myspace, Meaghan was one of our very first friends, and placed us on her Top 8 Friends list (which, by the way, is an incredible honor to many!). In her hobbies, Meaghan wrote, “Dancing at the Tacoma Arthur Murray’s: SO MUCH FUN!!!"

Meaghan passed away at her ripe age of 27 on Friday, January 30^th, 2009. This month, Meaghan would have celebrated her 2^nd 2^nd Birthday, and her glorious return to dancing at Arthur Murray’s. For someone who suffered from a heart disease, Meaghan Hicks had the biggest, strongest, and most beautiful heart of anyone we’ve ever met. That is why we’ve chosen, with her family’s blessing, to honor her this week by dedicating our American Heart Association Dance-A-Thon to someone who’s heart will forever be missed, and will never be forgotten. Long live Meaghan Hicks, our Dancing Angel.

*UPDATE*: Last night, my friends and I held a benefit in Meaghan's honor at our home, to raise awareness and funds for the American Heart Association, and to allow people the opportunity to get involved, and serve in a great cause. Our goal was to raise $5,000 to donate entirely to the AHA. That money will go to serve people like Meaghan who deal with cardiovascular diseases and strokes. So far, we've only managed to raise $110. This simply will not do! So I'm asking for help once again:

For this entire week, all through Valentine's Day, I am asking for pledges that will get us to our goal of $5,000. Pledges can vary anywhere from $1 to $1,000,000 (I know there are super generous people out there!). Making a pledge is so simple, too: simply respond to this blog with a comment, or email me directly at ejmose@gmail.com, and I will respond with details as to how the your pledge will be collected and used. I will be so grateful for anything you can sacrifice to this cause, so others like Meaghan can lead longer, better lives, with the opportunity to fulfill dreams! And I'm sure they will appreciate it in turn.

Again, thank you everyone for your time, and your sacrifice. To find out more about Meaghan, the American Heart Association, or how else you can get involved, go to www.meaghanhicks.com or www.americanheart.org .

Things That Come in Two's

There are great truths about human nature that allow me the opportunity to learn more about myself and others around me. I am always intrigued by the dual nature of many learning experiences. I'll give you a few examples:

Death - Though it can be quite tragic, there are 2 beautiful things you learn from it: (1) The value of a life, and how much someone means to you; and (2) the blessing that having today is, and not to spoil it by rushing into tomorrow.

Change - Real change, life-altering change, only occurs after we experience one of 2 things: (1) pain, or (2) pleasure. It's true, and you'll realize it after you are either deeply hurt, or have an amazingly wonderful experience!

Life - Humans don't experience static, stagnancy, permanent status quo. We are always in a state of (1) growth or (2) atrophy. Every bit of ourselves works this way - our muscles, our brains, our spirits.

There are many more I can share with you. I'm just very tired right now. I just needed to begin this post before it escaped my brain.