A Quiet Corner

by Siarrah Kane (Canada)

I didn't expect to find USA

I was only tormenting myself by choosing to see an off-Broadway show about loss and grief in my current predicament. It is out of character for me to publicly display emotion, or rather, something I prefer to not do if the choice is mine; and yet tears stained my face as the lights came on and I stood for a standing ovation. The show was Sea Wall/A Life; two standalone one man shows featuring Tom Sturridge and Jake Gyllenhaal as men dealing with significant loss in their lives. I was in the process of preparing for a significant loss in my own life, so understandably the show left me sentimental. I called my mom as I exited the Hudson Theatre. I had been excited to see the show and wanted to share what else I had done that day – the Brooklyn flea market, an empowering female centric exhibit, yet another excellent vegan restaurant - and that I was finally truly falling in love with New York after my 6th visit to the city. More than anything, my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of my family after what I had just experienced. For several minutes I gushed to my mom on the phone. Something felt wrong, she was asking the right questions but was hollow. I was standing at the corner of an unfamiliar street that was suddenly silent in the loudest city in the world, scared to ask what I was certain of. When my grandma was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer, I had expected it to be quick. I hadn’t made immediate travel plans in fear of being abroad for her passing. As a month turned into a year, I nervously planned to go on a three-week trip to Asia. The guilt of being around the world if anything happened created pause, but I chose to leave it with the universe. Since then I had been to Mexico, and now I was away yet again. On my previous trips I had asked my mom to be honest regarding my grandma’s condition. Shortly before going to New York, something in me changed, and though her condition had worsened, I asked my mom to only be honest with me at my request. “How is everything?” I asked cautiously. “Are you asking for real?” That was enough. I broke down. My mom was a country and a coast away, but it was just her and I on that New York corner. I could feel her relief in the freedom to share what had been sitting with her for 2 days. My grandma had passed while I had been on my flight 2 days prior. I had spoken with my mom since, as she battled her grief and the responsibility of packing up a life, I had nonchalantly been enjoying a vacation. I felt selfish and guilty for bestowing that on my mom. I think subconsciously I knew the outcome and didn’t want death to weigh on my vacation. Everyone said it must have been terrible timing to learn this news alone in a city that wasn’t mine, but it was darkly perfect. I was raw and vulnerable to loss after seeing that show, but I had a new perspective and strength that encouraged healing. In many ways New York is the easiest city to grieve in. It is forgiving, and provides what you need, isolation, obscurity, distraction, inspiration, comfort. I found myself walking through the streets of the city uninhibited tears streaming without attention from any passersby. I met my cousin at The Comedy Cellar that same night and distracted myself with laughter. The next day I visited The Met, a landmark that my grandma, a life-long artist, would have adored. I was unable to resort to my usual cure for grief, curling up on the couch with just my tears, Netflix, and appetite. I was forced to live a life, a life that even through mourning was producing bliss; and I couldn’t help but acknowledge the cliché that the only way to truly honor our loved ones who’ve passed on is to live our lives to the fullest.