Frozen Teardrop (26 page)

But it made me step back and fall down onto the bench and I sobbed. I never cried that much. I don't know if anyone saw me but in a moment like this you don't see or feel anything around you. Nothing else exists. Instead of taking the plunge, I had stepped back from the edge. My will to live was still much stronger than the will to die. I knew that killing myself would not solve anything. I wanted the situation around me to die and so I had contemplated ending it in this way. But in the end I could not fathom to be so selfish as to take my own life. To take the biggest gift you receive away from yourself would be pure cowardliness. Also, with the fear of the pain it would cause my parents in ways impossible to describe, I could never, ever do this. That would be too much of a sin. After what seemed to be hours, and the day had turned into night, I got up and solemnly walked back home. I would never skate at that rink again.

At that time I did not tell my parents any details but just mentioned that I was not getting any better. Being so far away from them and not having them right next to me, made it impossible to say some things. I was embarrassed as well, and situations like these are not made for a conversation over a wire that is stretched for miles and miles. I also did not want them to worry. I thought I should be able to take care of myself. A mother is always a mother however, and she could feel from the beginning of my arrival in Japan that something was severely wrong. My mother confesses to me now she was terrified for my life during this time and had sleepless nights. As for my coach, I just told him that I was just too tired to skate with him. I was a great actress after all and hid everything pretty well.

A few days passed and as not skating was making me feel like there was a huge hole in my life, I did tell my mother, father and coach that the only way I would be able to skate again is if I were to be invited to the most prestigious tour in the world, Smucker's Stars on Ice in America. Then and only then would I get back on the ice. I felt I had done everything else, and never liking repetition, I needed something new. The shows were starting to be all the same to me. I was already the best spinner in the world, leaving my mark in history and I could not do more than I had pushed my body to do. Stars on Ice was the only thing left I wanted to be part of. They understood but unfortunately it was not in their hands to make this happen.

To add to all this upheaval, my coach and his family were not happy in Japan. They felt like outcasts (welcome to my world) and they wanted a chance in America. I absolutely love doing things for other people. I always have and always will. I love to strive to make other people happy even if I end up sacrificing a part of myself. I told my coach that I would take care of his whole family's visas and that I would make it possible for him to work in the States. After all, I was not skating and maybe this is why I had come to Japan. This, however, was a huge task to take on for a twenty-two year old. A whole Chinese family's destiny was in my hands.

No matter what had happened in the past, I felt this was my way of giving my grateful thank-you back to my coach for giving me the wonderful skating time I had in China. It was my way of repaying him, and I knew that no amount of money could ever be equal to it. He made it possible for me to land all the triples and had made me feel like I had accomplished all there was to accomplish on the ice. After suffering with my jumps for so many years that feeling of finally succeeding is indescribable. I was confident I could do this for them, and mostly for him. Loving to make things happen, I was willing to make all the phone calls and do all the paperwork necessary.

I called the necessary people that needed to be a part of this to make it a success and got to work. Because it was almost a twenty-four-hour a day job it took my mind off all my pain and hospital visits. It was a lot of pressure since it would be a one-time chance to accomplish this. You can't keep revisiting the embassy for a visa. If they deny you for any reason, then you have to wait before you can try again. I had only a few weeks to do all of this. I was determined.

My parents were very astonished that I was undertaking this task and were afraid I was taking a risk as well. If it succeeded we would feel and be responsible for many things to come for the whole family. I am not sure they wanted me to do it, but I was very stubborn, thinking I would help the whole family just like he had when he helped me with my jumps. None of them had ever lived in the United States, nor had his wife or son ever even stepped foot on U.S. soil. They did not speak very much English, either. It might have looked like a disaster waiting to happen but to see my coach so miserable in Japan, I could not just do nothing.

Through endless phone calls with lawyers and ice rink managers, translating nonstop, embassy visits, and emails, I worked and worked, sometimes staying up all night because of the time difference. It was a big job, lots of sweat and tears, but it was all worthwhile when I truly succeeded. By the time I had to leave Tokyo a month later, I had given the whole family a chance at a new life. My coach and his family would have a new home and it would be in the best city in the world, New York City! I managed to give my coach a teaching job at a famous ice rink facility in the city, and for him and his wife a visa to live in the U.S.! All in one month! The son would have to wait a few more months until his parents settled in the U.S. and then they would be able to bring him over but even he would also have a job waiting for him, all arranged.

I handed it to them on a silver plate. When I got word that their visas were accepted and informed my coach we had a celebratory dinner. They had tears in their eyes as we stood in line to go to the U.S. Embassy to get their visas and they could not have looked prouder. The American dream was now alive to them and I had been a part of it. There was joy and excitement in the household. My parents, and even I, were incredibly proud of me.

When I set my mind to something, I push everything and everyone including me aside, and so I decided for their sake that I would not return to Dubai, but would go directly back to Hackensack, New Jersey where I still had my apartment. My mother would meet me there as well to help me. I would have to arrange everything for the family's arrival in the U.S. I would need to find an apartment and furnish it for them and make sure they would be comfortable right upon arrival. It was all on my shoulders and my responsibility as I had been the one who had made it possible. I did not want to ruin it with any ridiculous mistakes. They were scheduled to arrive in New York City in the beginning of August of 2001. What was awaiting us would shock not only us but also the whole world. We could never have fathomed or imagined this one.

Confusion. What is it? How do you define it? I must say confusion was the motivation for a search for knowledge in my life. Everything around me seemed so complex and confusing in my mind from a young age. I used to repeat to my mother over and over again from when I was four years old, “I am all mix, I am all mix.” Life and circumstances confused me. Nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed as it should. People were voicing things that they did not believe. People's actions did not follow what they believed. Everything looked like a lie. I had always wished everyone was just truthful and lived a life of honor. What you don't or can't understand is always more intriguing then what you can and that is always what fascinated me. To be confused is to pay attention, and I would pay close attention. The whole world has so much information yet very few people have real knowledge. Real knowledge is what I would search for.

(HACKENSACK, NEW YORK CITY)

To mourn or to celebrate?

I
feel that death is such a complex matter, not so much for the person who has passed on but for the people left behind because they have to keep living with the fact that their loved one has passed. But maybe, just maybe, that soul who has crossed over is smiling up above or maybe already back on this earth in a new body and living right beside you once more. Each and every soul has a purpose and a journey and when that journey is complete in the vehicle that it resides in, it must continue to evolve and leave for a short while, change costumes, and come back down. I believe anything is possible. So, are they to be mourned or is their life to be celebrated? What are we actually mourning? It is our loss more than anything else.

Perhaps we should not mourn for them. They have chosen their path in one way or another. That is what I believe. You will never know the last conversations the soul has in those last few minutes on earth. You will only know the conversation your soul will have. When the time comes I truly hope and believe that in the heart and minds of those who pass on their last moments are filled with peace. No matter how we go I pray and keep my faith that every single person can be blessed in their few last minutes on this earth.

I believe that the soul lives on and never dies. It cannot die because it does not have an end or a beginning. It has and always will be alive. A soul is not tangible. Therefore it can never be destroyed. I believe that when people are born, they cry and the world rejoices, and I hope that every single human can live such a life that when they cross over, the world will cry from missing that soul's magical presence, but they will also rejoice. We must not hang on to the fact of death but rather to the fact of how he lived his life. In the end that is all the soul will take with him.

I arrived back in Hackensack, and my mother met me there. The month of July would be action packed. A lot would have to be done before the arrival of my Chinese coach and his wife. This was an exciting time of new adventures. I only wanted to continue skating if I could be in Stars on Ice and my wish was granted. I was thrilled and elated and couldn't believe my ears. It was a great birthday gift. Now I could get back on ice and have a purpose once more. My Chinese coach had always said in essence that I should never give up loving what I could not do anymore, and always find a way of loving what I could do. Waking up in the morning, eating breakfast, breathing, anything, really. Always to love what you do and find the love in whatever you do. I was not a warrior yet in my mind but having this opportunity brought back my love for skating.

It was time to find my coach a new home. Since they had never lived in America before and had no financial credit, I thought to make it easier on them I would get an apartment under my name and one that we could all share in the beginning. Then once they were used to the city, they could venture off in their own direction. I would have to be their tour guide so I wanted to be close to them so they could rely on me for the all the new experiences they would have to live through upon arrival.

My mother and I, knowing he would teach in the city, were looking for an apartment close to the ice rink. I would be skating there as well so it would all work out well. We found a wonderful apartment in Tribeca, right on the waterfront. From the apartment the view was beautiful on the peaceful Hudson and the other side you could see a glimpse of the Wall Street buildings standing tall and strong, and of course the stoic Twin Towers rising above the rest. It was perfect. My coach was still in Japan and through phone calls and visual interpretations of the apartment he agreed to it and the lease was signed. My apartment in Hackensack was up as well so the timing was perfect. We would move into the apartment at the end of July and they would arrive a few weeks later in August.

My mother and I decorated the apartment. It was two bedrooms and two bathrooms so that my mother and I could have one half and they the other. We would share the kitchen. We made sure they would feel comfortable by adding an Asian flare to it as well. We knew that moving to a different country and continent together with a foreign language would have its challenges and we were sensitive to all the little nuances. We had done it so many times before that we knew what was needed.

August arrived and I was enthusiastic about their arrival. My mother drove to the airport. I had driven in Sun Valley but I was not comfortable driving in big cities. The cars rushing by scared me and brought back memories of driving the highways in California. Something about the speed absolutely terrified me. I felt like all the high speed was generating too much energy around me, like life was passing by way too fast. I did not feel in control of my life; therefore, I did not feel in control behind a wheel.

At the airport we waited for them, looking intensely at the passengers lugging their suitcases coming out of the doors that opened and closed and opened and closed. Every time the doors opened we would feel a rush of adrenaline and when it turned out not to be them, we'd feel a wave of disappointment. Up and down our emotions went. Were they even on the plane? Did they freak out in the last minute? Our minds were going fast but to our delight they finally exited. They looked totally lost but grateful to see our faces and they rushed over and hugged us. It was to be the start of an incredibly mournful journey.

They loved the apartment and were grateful for our all that we had done for them. The next few weeks we let them settle in and my coach started work right away in the city. We skated together and he taught me on the ice, but more importantly taught lessons on life, and helped me get back on my feet in preparation for the tour. For them everything was very new and different. New York City takes a while to adjust for some since it “never sleeps” and wherever you look there is a lot of live flesh and a lot of dead concrete. You could feel suffocated and engulfed and so alone and alienated, and I was hoping they would not give in to it. You could tell from their bewildered eyes they would need some time to adjust.

My coach and I got bicycles so that we could bike up and down the Hudson River to the ice rink. He looked the most comfortable on these rides, loving the freedom of the bike and his expression with the wind blowing in his face made him look like a little kid loving his very first ride. I loved that about my coach. He put meaning in everything he did and said, throwing nothing away into the universe. Everything and every moment were sacred and beautifully orchestrated.

My mother and his wife sometimes stayed home. They would cook together, and my mother took her around the area to show her places such as Chinatown and taught her how to use a washing machine and dishwasher. She had never seen appliances like ours and to her they must have seemed as foreign as space objects in their shining silver metal. It was like placing a woman from the 1800s into the world of present day. She was overwhelmed and had a lot to learn. My mother and she went for evening walks after dinner and they became friends with no speech. I was very close to my coach and we would skate together, do off-ice together, and play tennis together. We were a great student-teacher team. It was a special and memorable time of two totally different cultures living together under the same roof, understanding each other, helping each other out, and devouring each other's foods and culture. On top of all this I was also elated that my father had scheduled to come visit us in New York on the thirteenth of September. I couldn't wait.

During the duration of that short one month everything was going very smoothly. No trouble, no fighting. His work and my skating were good and they both liked the city. On September 10th in the early evening I felt like going to the World Trade Center shopping area to look around a little. I had been to the shopping area numerous times and loved the hustle and bustle of it and the atmosphere. It felt so grand and powerful to be in the presence of people that were such a huge part of the whole world's economy. To me it seemed like history was being written on every desk that was deeply rooted in the ground yet way up above on every floor that rose to the sky. I went to the shops and bought a few things and walked back home.

The next morning was September 11, 2001. My coach went to the rink earlier than I since he had lessons to teach. My mother and I left home around eight a.m. My coach's wife stayed home. My mother en route to the ice rink mentioned she had forgotten her phone at home. We were going to go back to retrieve it, but there was already so much traffic that morning and we thought we would be back home soon enough so we continued our way to the rink. As usual I got on the ice around 8:20 a.m. The ice rink was at Chelsea Piers and there were many televisions in the dining area adjoining the two ice rinks. The morning news was always on. The ice rink was sparse with only a few skaters and a few coaches. Students had already left for school.

I was having a lesson with my coach when suddenly the rink manager came into the rink and told the parents of the skaters to come take a look at what was happening on the television. I and some other skaters and the coaches continued with our practice. The parents came back into the rink and sat back down and continued to watch us. Not longer than five minutes later the manager came back in and said that we should all get off the ice since something serious was happening. His voice had urgency to it and without questioning him we took our belongings and got off. As we got off the ice we could see in the distance smoke rising into the sky. It looked frightful. Not knowing what had happened, we all with our skates on huddled in front of the television screen. The first tower had been hit and when the parents had first seen it, the event had not seemed so bad but by now the situation had escalated. We were all speechless looking at the television monitor.

Then we became motionless as the second tower was hit. Still with our skates on, we watched. People in the rink were running back and forth and chaos started. We skaters just sat there with big eyes not comprehending the situation. My coach called his wife and they briefly spoke. My coach sighed with relief that she was all right. He told her to stay put and not go anywhere. We called my father and told him we were at the ice rink and were okay. We couldn't believe our eyes and ears. The journalists were still trying to figure out what was happening.

We all stayed glued to the television. I was still at the ice rink with my skates on long after both towers fell down. We did not move, not knowing what to do or where to go. By now hundreds of people were running uptown and it felt like they were all rushing to where we were. I felt like we needed to run uptown too. We all started to panic. My mother, coach, and I would not be able to get back to our home. Our home was in zone one and everyone had been evacuated. My coach became more frantic as he tried and tried again to call his wife. By now all cell phones were not working and there was no way he would be able to reach her. His face turned white. It was arranged for us to stay at another skating coach's apartment for one night. We thankfully accepted her invitation and that evening was terrifying.

This is what war had to feel like in the olden days where everyone was hiding in their homes, not daring to step out, and just huddled together watching the news. It felt like the sounds from the radios and televisions were echoing throughout Manhattan. For a city that never sleeps the city felt dead since there was no soul in the streets. There was the smell of death and burning metals that layered the city from the fire downtown and it would stay for weeks. You could smell it all the way uptown.

That evening my coach could still not reach his wife and he looked so devastated. He looked like he was about to collapse. My mother said that maybe she had been evacuated to New Jersey or to Brooklyn and we were sure she was being taken care of. My mother and I felt so responsible and we hid our fear. We could only stay one night there before we would have to find another home to stay at. It was arranged through another skating friend that we could stay a week at a beautiful friend's home on the Upper West Side by Central Park. We felt like balls being juggled left and right.

The next morning before we left to go to the next home, we all went to the ice rink so I could practice. Like I have said before, even if the sky were to fall above us you would have found me at the ice rink lacing up my skates. They had wanted to use the ice rink as a morgue but all the bodies that were found in the rubble had disintegrated so much that the ice rink was not needed. It was available for us skaters. I tried to skate but could not. I just burst into tears. Skating seemed so pointless after what had happened, so irrelevant, so useless at that point. I did not want to practice. I got off the ice.

My coach continually tried to reach his wife and at long last after my practice he was able to reach her. His face lit up like I had never seen it before! She said was going to bike up to meet us there. My mother, coach, and I waited for her. As we saw her approaching he ran towards her like welcoming home a war veteran. It was beautiful to see such love and admiration and care for each other. They tearfully hugged for a while and my mother and I smiled from our hearts. As we understood, this is what happened to her. Since my coach had told her to stay put, and since she did not understand a word of English, she just stayed in the apartment. The building was evacuated but she followed her husband's orders. She only once quickly ventured out to the rooftop to see the fire but had to quickly get back in since the smoke was suffocating her. Once back in the apartment she could not see anything as the black smoke engulfed the whole building. She lit candles since there was no electricity.

Earlier in the evening she had taken her bicycle, and following a policeman she rode all the way to Chelsea Piers but could not find us, so she rode back down to the apartment. How she rode back and was let through I have no idea but luck was on her side and she slept that night in the apartment! It was quite a story to tell and she was a remarkable lady. She even said she was not scared. Her survival instincts had kicked in and she just did what she thought needed to be done. All back together again we went to the new home where we would be staying for a week or so. We felt homeless but we felt cared for and grateful that we had a roof over our heads. On the other hand, half way around the world my father was stuck in Switzerland. He was supposed to arrive the next day but all the flights had been cancelled. He said he would wait there until the first flight took off again to New York City.