It has been only three months since I lost my champion- my mother- my light, and the one person who never doubted me or made me feel as if i were less than. And watching her slip away from us, I came face to face with my mortality. Something that was even more front and center this past week.
On a glorious day in Cancun - as hump day had passed and the last two days of our perfect vacation were beginning to unfold, on a trip I so desperately needed to reset my life, I found myself under a pool chair wondering if this was the last view of the world that I would ever see. And under that chair - it was my mortality that was more than front and center - it was smack dab in front of my face.
As my friend Richard and I waited for his pool cabana to be ready, we heard a popping sound. Why was someone setting off firecrackers? I thought and then came the sound of broken glass.
"SHOOTER," - I heard screamed from somewhere and then in a stampede, the pool occupants were running through the water and leaping over the swim up bar any way they could get over it. I was frozen - what the fuck was happening?
I knew that I couldn't make it across the water and my friend Richard and I instinctively dropped to the ground next to the cabana. I pulled myself under the pool chair, sliding under it along the cement, as if it were some sort of bullet proof blanket I could wrap myself in. But, it was Richard who was completly exposed and I begged him to crawl under a chair next to me as best he could. As it was he had to stare at my ass for close to 45 minutes and that is something no man should have to look at for that long let alone to be the last thing he sees.
And then we saw him. The shooter, clothed in a jacket with some sort of logo on the back, his weapon at his side - yelling something in Spanish neither one of us understood. He didn't seem interested in looking for anyone but we had no idea how many more would follow. He seemed oblivious to us as he marched forward to the main area. What followed was almost worse than gun fire.
It was the silence.
And then slicing the stillness, more voices - and from our vantage point under the chairs a man in blue across the pool. We had no idea who he was or if he was armed - what he was yelling and what it meant for us. I grabbed for my glasses, scraping my arm on the cement and texted my cousin.
Stay calm I texted hoping to take my own advice - there's a shooter and I'm under a chair. I sent her a picture of where I was sheltered. Was it so she would know where to tell them to look for us? I don't really know - but I needed someone on the outside to know what was happening. And then a hotel worker appeared, crouched down and motioning for us to stay put.
I am under a pool chair, I thought, how much further can I get down?
"There are no sirens," I said to Richard, unable to turn my head to see him. "Where are the police?"
And then what seemed an eternity, the worker was back, but this time speaking in English, commanding that we move and move fast. I scrapped my arm more as I tried to slide out from under the chair.
"Richard," I screamed, "I can't get out, I can't get this fucking chair off me." And, before I knew it, the furniture was thrown off me and I saw a man In dark blue in what looked like tactical gear. He commanded us to keep our heads down and run, to follow the worker. I didn't know if Richard was behind me, and I lost track of the hotel worker as he disappeared into the building.
"Where am I going," I cried out, " I don't know where you are."
I ran up the the stairs and a door was opened and suddenly there was Richard and one other guest behind me. We were safe in a room along with several of the frightened house keeping staff. One woman ran to get me a robe and slippers as I was only wearing my swim suit. I texted my cousin that I was in a room, safely out of the open space.
Perhaps it was an hour later, maybe less that we were given the word to move into the hotel lobby. The shooter was apprehended. But in that crowd with so many without their phones we had no way to find the others in our group. My roommate was missing. I asked a member of the hotel staff to help me and for once I remembered our room number.
"Stay here," she instructed me, "We will search." But there was no sign of him - no person In medical with his name and no one in our room. I searched the sea of people and finally saw him emerge from the masses. All of us were accounted for now - every single one of us.
As you can imagine the rest of the night was somber. And I sat on our balcony and remembered how under that chair - seeing a sliver of the pool water and the swim up bar I so loved - my first thought was of my mother. How for the first time since July - I was glad she wasn't here to have to see what was happening. I texted my cousin at that, and tried to find some levity - this would have killed her faster than any of the goddamn issues that ravaged her body. And I was grateful that no one had to break this news to her.
How did I and the rest of the guests who stayed get through the week? I don't really have a definitive answer. We bonded together as people do during shared times and collectively we knew that we had to go through the rest of the week. That no matter where we were sheltering - in a ballroom, in a stranger's room, in a linen closet - or under a pool chair - this was happening to all of us. But one thing I knew was certain when it was over. That I could not run from this place. I would remain to convince myself that the ugliness of the world will always be defeated by the beauty of it.
How soon will I get over this experience? For that I can't say - I hear a loud noise and I jump - I heard a voice at the airport cry out in Spanish and I flinched and looked to see what was happening. It was nothing - just people.
What I do know is that 2021 has been far worse than the covid ridden 2020. And collectively the two years can go straight to hell. This year has robbed me of my mother and I won't for one second longer let the fear of covid and the ridiculous fights surrounding it coupled with some low life drug cartel rob me of my life.
The recovery from this will, without a doubt, take a lot of time on my part. But, right now, I can say that if there is a lesson in this - it is that life is precious. It could end in a second but I prayed that it would not end with my last view of this world being an empty swim up bar.
So how do any of us move forward? One day and one plan at a time is probably my best answer. I will take stock of my profession, travel to places I want when I want because the next day of life is never guaranteed. If we are lucky to reach our goals - then when it is your time to leave this earth, you want to know that you have lived. I still have too much of living to do, I thought as I tried to keep focused under that chair. And, as I sit in my blue awning apartment, safely back home, I thank whatever power it was - my champion I'd like to think - who told the universe that my life would not end that day, not like this and not this far from home.
There's more out there to discover and coupled with this past summer and the events of 2020, the old world is truly gone. And though the ugliness of the new world will always find a way to break into the beauty, I hope we can all fight back. That we can find our centers and take stock of the great gifts that this life has given us. But most of all, even though I was hardly hidden from view, and using my dark humor to get me to the other side, I'm happy that I can fit under a lounge chair.
