Bashar – Dear Mom and Dad

Bashar – Dear Mom and Dad

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Every year, this month, I write a letter to my Mom and Dad updating them on my life and Lucas’s. If you don’t know our story and how we lost them both just 6 months apart in our mid-twenties, the fact that I write them may not be as interesting.

Why do I make it public, and post it? In my humble opinion, vulnerability is one of the greatest gifts we can give another human being. It’s my way of reminding you that you aren’t alone in whatever you are struggling with. Whether you read this and weep, read this and like, or read this as just an observer with no emotion, doesn’t matter to me. I write for me, first.

Here is a letter of lesson, of pain, of joy and of gratitude…

Dear Mom and Dad,

I never quite understood what people meant when they say they think of those they miss every single day. How is that possible? However, you are in my thoughts every day, even in the most simplest of ways. I’m not usually sad when I think of you though. Not even mad.

I am 33 now and Lucas is 29.

I grow every year as I say in every letter, but I’d have to say I grew the most this year. I became a woman. Cliche, but it’s true. I know Karissa better than I’ve ever known her. At least, so far.

I already knew this would happen, back when I was in that stagnate part of my life, afraid to make a change. I was so down, so broken, and so stuck. I knew I’d come out on the other end much different, wiser, stronger. I knew we both would.

I feared the pain in the interim though. As we all do. I was afraid of the discomfort from the drastic change. From the complete 180. I feared the unknown. I won’t do that again. If I could go back and rewrite history, I’d take the leap sooner. I’m sure he would too. We tend to stay in situations long after we realize we should be out of them. I try to remember that, anytime I feel hesitant.

In some people’s eyes (it’s all subjective) I may have failed along the way.

I’ve failed according to society.

I am 33.

I’m not married.

I don’t have kids.

I don’t own a home.

I have credit card debt.

I don’t take multi-vitamins.

I don’t always get my oil changed on time, according to the little sticker they give you.

I like dairy.

And meat.

I don’t go to church every Sunday.

I don’t have a Roth IRA.

I skip lines, sometimes.

I’ve lied about certain political views to defuse an argument.

I’m not quite what you’d call the Protestant, white picket fence, American dream.

Every so often I sit in sorrow and throw myself a pity-party because I don’t have my Mom. I don’t have you to go antiquing with. We both loved interior decorating. I wish you could come over, drink wine and talk to me about my choice in dates and my choice in drapes! I think I miss you so much because I am so much like you. Everyone sees it and reminds me of it. It’s what I imagine single Mothers feel when they look at their son who is just like his Father. A constant reminder. You are that for me Mom, except positive.

It’s an absolute honor to be so much like you.

Dad, I’m a natural-born introvert. It’s my own secret though. Everyday I go out of my comfort zone, and away from what feels natural to me. I connect with others and I’m social. I make a conscious effort to do that. You taught me the value of relationships, of networking, of nurturing friendships. You taught me theory, and a great friend I met along the way @anita rich taught me practice. She catapulted me in a way she’ll never know.

Dad, you were so charming. I admired you. I idolized that trait in you, and here it is manifested long after you’re gone. I guess you really do live on, as they said you would. Thanks for that gift, and for the gift of gab.

After a long night, when my pity-party has finally come to an end, I pause, reflect and I see how incredibly blessed I am. (Hashtag blessed). Solitary confinement is one of the greatest punishments humans can experience. There is nothing worse than being isolated from human contact, contrary to some of your beliefs. Human connection is apart of our survival. We thrive on belonging. We are powerful in numbers. We want to connect. We want to be seen. We want to be understood. I am grateful to experience all of those things on a regular basis. That in itself is worth mentioning.

For some odd reason, which I’ve justified in my mind over and over, I can’t have parents like most of my friends do at 33. However, I am rich in friendships and in family. I have so many people who are there without any conditions. I have people who are truly my ride-or-die and have been there for me and will continue to be there, and I for them. What more could one human being navigating this thing called life ask for.

I am 33 and according to my own standards I am quite the success. I’ve lived and experience my greatest childhood dreams. I’ve worked on films, commercials and in television. I’ve been to the Oscars. I’ve interviewed more idols than I can count. I’ve been paid to be creative. I’ve met the artist who inspired me growing up numerous times. I’ve been fortunate to live in many cities. I’ve met so many people along the journey and I stay in contact with them.  I lived in a nice condo in the Upper East Side of NYC, just blocks from the Met and Central Park. I lived in a spacious (rare for LA) apartment in Hollywood, CA surrounded by lush greenery, just blocks from Capitol Records. Now, I reside minutes from the mountains and I like it. I appreciate the serenity after living in big cities. I like being able to drive out to the desert by myself. I wouldn’t appreciate otherwise.

I’ve had long term relationships and short term ones. Close in distance and far away. I’ve experienced deep romantic love and platonic love.

When you were ill Dad, I spent a lot of time in hospitals with sick people. I saw them struggle to breathe, struggle to walk. I don’t take my youth for granted. I can breathe with no effort. I can walk. I can run. I can dance! I am full of energy and I know nothing lasts forever.  Many people my age take their health for granted. It’s easy to.

I am smart. I am classy. I am compassionate. I am genuinely empathic. I care. All of these represent success to me.

Lucas amazes me all the time. You’d be so proud. He made good money in sales but decided he wanted to truly live, without restraint. He got rid of his material possessions, bought an A-class RV and has been traveling the country with his girlfriend, Carissa (yes, same name…) and their two precious pit bulls Jamie and Cesar. Newest addition is Bella. They are settled now in Indiana for the holidays. Mom & Dad, you’d love Carissa. She’s so good for him. She’s not emotional, she’s level-headed which he needs in a woman. She’s domesticated. She cooks. She takes good care of him, and of the dogs, and their living space. Also, she’s bright. He needs an intelligent woman. Her family is wonderful. They are warm and accepting. She may argue they aren’t perfect, but who’s family is?

As much as I’d love to go on his journey with him (Hashtag goals) I can’t but I do meet up with them on their travels around the country. First in Texas. Then in Indiana. I believe next I will meet them somewhere in the Northwest. I am so proud of him for literally chasing happiness. He said something once, it sounded like something you’d say, Mom.

“The only thing that scares me, is I’m not scared at all.”

Mom and Dad you live on within us.

My experiences in 2018, and the people I’ve met along the way have taught me the difference between a growth mindset and a fixed mindset. Someone with a growth mindset thrives on challenges and sees failure as a way to grow. I’ve tried to adopt that mindset more.

I’ve also been kinder to people  this year. I do things without any expectation of anything in return. Nothing is more rewarding.

I look forward to 2019 and what’s ahead. I love you. I miss you.

Your daughter,

And oh, how I miss saying that…

Karissa

A very special thanks to Daniel, Chris, Manny, Amanda, Renee, Sam, Lydiane, Bill Arthur, LM, Anita, Uncle Ed & Aunt Jewel, Cousin Erik, Cousin Josh, Karen, James, Louise, Diana, Louie, Lucas, and Carissa for making my last year really truly awesome.