Strangely enough, when I think back on this memory, I do so with fondness. It is about the day I learned my mom attempted suicide. I was 18 or 19 years old. I was living on campus at my University. In those days, nobody had cell phones and our dorm rooms were new so nobody had land lines either. We had a pay phone in the lobby. When people called us, they would call the office and they would put a message in our mailbox. It was Saturday morning and after breakfast, I decided to go check my box for any mail or messages. A few letters and about 5 pink phone message slips. “Why so many,” I thought.
Friday night – 5pm – Call your dad. Urgent!
They were all from the night before and said the same thing, “Call dad, it is urgent!” I am immediately scared. What could have happened? I nervously call my dad and wait for the news that is going to change me. He tells me that last night my mom tried to kill herself and she is in the hospital. I hang up in tears. Slowly in a daze I walk back across the courtyard between dorm buildings to mine. As I am walking, trying not to be noticed, I look up and make eye contact with a girl I don’t really know that well. Our eyes lock. In the briefest of moments, she gives me a sympathetic look.
I hurriedly get to my room. I grab my car keys and drive an hour up to LA to the hospital. I will not spend much time on the hospital visit part of this story. Believe it or not, that is not what this story is about. I talk with my brother and my mom’s girlfriend and they fill me in. My mom took an overdose of pills. They pumped her stomach. Of course, she was drunk at the time. In hindsight, I really doubt she wanted to die. My mom was a Hogan and Hogans are fighters that don’t give up. As crappy as my mom’s life was, she never stopped fighting to stay alive. However, in that moment, I believed she did want to die and it really tore me up. I was shaken.
When I arrive back home in the dorms, I am in my room with someone. I think it was my close friend (She later became my first love) Janice. At this point, I don’t think I am crying anymore, just numb. There is a knock at the door. Janice opens it. In walks the girl I locked eyes with in the courtyard. She is carrying a dozen yellow roses. “I do not know what happened to you, and I don’t need to know. I do know that you were very sad and I want you to know that I felt it. I am sorry.” She hands me the roses and leaves. I go from numb to stunned to warm and happy in an instant. I am so touched. I am amazed that this person who does not know me or why I was upset, has the strength and determination to go buy roses, find out what room I am in and give them to me. Most people would just see a guy crying and keep walking. Her act of kindness affected me in such a profound way. That beautiful moment may have been a crucial nudge in the right direction that kept me on my path. I will forever have a strong connection to this stranger who was able to see into my soul and heal me with a simple act of kindness.
Thank you beautiful girl with blond hair that I do not know the name of. Those roses bloomed and lasted for over two weeks.
