On June 5, 2001, my best friend Lisa lost her courageous battle with cancer. Not a day passes that I don’t mourn the loss of such a generous, giving and beautiful person. Although gone from this world, she continues to inspire me. Her zest for life was infectious, and I am fortunate that her enthusiasm continues to live on in the pages of my book.
My book isn’t just about work; it’s also about friendship. And while it may be a fictionalized account of my life, nothing is fictionalized about Lisa. She was a strong, supportive and encouraging friend who was full of life. Bringing her “back to life” in my book has not only given me great comfort, but also incredible inspiration. We shared an inside language, inside jokes and a host of outside personas (we both loved acting). How do you replace that? So, each day as I write, I ask myself, “What would Lisa say?” She is the essence of my story.
William Shakespeare said it best: “A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become and still gently allows you to grow”.
When we were in our twenties, Lisa and I traveled to Mexico for a much needed vacation. Sitting on our tiny hotel balcony, soaking up the stunning scenery (and a bottle of duty free rum), I asked the age-old question - how can I achieve happiness? As always, my best friend had an answer.
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BOOK EXCERPT
“Lisa,” I said, breaking our silence. “Did I really need to spend all this money to come to Mexico to be happy?” Our balcony was too small to accommodate chairs, so we opted instead to sit on the floor; our backs leaning against the cool glass of the sliding door.
“No, I don’t think so,” she responded. “But the beauty of traveling is that you remove yourself from everyday life.” Lisa took a mouthful of rum and passed the bottle back to me. Taking a long drink, I felt a wave of intoxication wash over me, reminiscent of the waves hitting the brown sandy beach before us.
“Why don’t I feel this happy at home?” I asked, taking two cigarettes from the package and passing one over to Lisa. Lighting mine, I inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill my lungs before exhaling. The minutes passed as we sat quietly, smoking our cigarettes.
“Here’s the thing,” she said, flicking an ash from her cigarette into the balmy wind. “You can be this happy at home. You just need to eliminate what is making you miserable.” Instinctually, Lisa always knew what to say - she was a self-described “old soul”. Taking in the brilliant view from our balcony, we sat in silence for a moment, listening only to the Pacific Ocean gently lapping up onto the beach and the far off sounds of sea birds.
“This may sound totally corny, but the answer is in you.” She let out an all-knowing laugh before taking another drag from her cigarette. “Besides,” she continued. “Nobody deserves a job they hate.” I knew she was right, but she also knew I hated that new-age crap.
“Okay, now you’re starting to sound like an infomercial for some self-help book,” I chimed in, trying not to laugh, but failing miserably. “Should we start singing “Kumbayah” now?” Erupting into laughter, we immediately launched into the chorus of Kumbayah, our unabashed melodious burst of energy fueled by alcohol. But soon our musical interlude diminished, as we realized neither of us knew the rest of the lyrics.
END OF BOOK EXCERPT
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It’s taken me a long time to fully understand what Lisa meant that day. I think I was too young, and couldn’t fully appreciate the sentiment. Finally, all these years later, I’m starting to get it. But life is a journey, and a constant “work in progress”; I’ll get there eventually. I’m just glad I'm still able to draw inspiration from Lisa through my book. In a sense, she's my “ghost writer” (pun intended).
To sum it up: If you want your life to be a magnificent story, then begin by realizing that you are the author, and every day you have the opportunity to write a new page.
(Quote: Mark Houlahan)
Editor’s Note: This blog was originally posted June 1, 2013
