Alya Honasan
Let me tell you about my friend Kathy. I met her when we had to do some work—we had to go to little villages far away from the big city. I’m a writer, so my job was to ask people to tell me their stories so I could write them down. Kathy is a photographer, so she was supposed to aim her camera and take pictures of the people I talked to and the places we visited. I had seen Kathy’s pictures even before I met her—boy, they were good!
Sometimes you don’t know very much about the people you are supposed to meet and work with, so you’re a little nervous. Will they be nice? Will we get along? Will we work the same way? Will they be lazy, nasty, or awful?
Or will they be really cool and become your friend forever?
Well, that was what happened to me and Kathy. I had heard that she was a lot of fun. The first time I saw her, with her smiling face, round cheeks, and tiny twinkling eyes, I knew it was true. We were supposed to put together stories of different people in a small book—stories about how people’s lives had changed because some good folks gave them medicines or electricity, or showed them how to plant vegetables that could feed their families, or taught them how to look into a microscope to find out if someone was sick or not. They were happy stories—and luckily for me, Kathy was a happy person, too.
What I remember most about Kathy was how she always found a way. When we arrived somewhere and it wasn’t a good time to take pictures—the sun was too bright, or there was not enough sun—she would find a way. She would put people in the shade, or use a big white reflector to make more light shine on them. If people looked nervous, she would make them laugh. If the place wasn’t pretty, she would fix it so that the person looked like he or she was in a really beautiful garden. When she wanted a nicer picture, she would stand on tables, crawl under benches—once, she even climbed the roof of a house! Of course, the people who were taking care of us were very worried. But Kathy just laughed and told them, “It’s okay—I’m just finding a way.”
Of course, because she always found a way, Kathy’s pictures were always wonderful. She made it look nice and sunny even when the day was cloudy. She made vegetables look juicy, and fish look nice and fresh. Most of all, she made people smile for her camera.
It wasn’t always easy traveling to far-away places with no lights or water. The roads were dusty and bumpy, the sun was hot, and we would get tired sometimes. But Kathy found a way to make things fun. She decided that we would search for the best pan de coco—yummy bread with sweet coconut filling inside—and we would buy some wherever we found a bakery. We ended up eating so much pan de coco, I thought I was turning into a coconut myself.
She also brought a coffee filter, a little metal cup that lets you pour hot water over some coffee, and it would drip-drip-drip down. It was delicious, and we would enjoy it even when we were in the middle of nowhere, talking about life. The coffee was perfect with the pan de coco.
And then, the day before we were supposed to get on an airplane to fly home, we found out that our flight was moved from the morning to the afternoon! I was worried about all the things I was supposed to do back home. Kathy was worried, too—but she found a way to see the good side of our problem. “I know—why don’t we just go to the beach?!”
And that’s what we did—we headed to a beautiful little beach in El Nido with clear blue water and lots of fishes swimming around. When we saw each other looking all wet, round (maybe from all the pan de coco?), and swimming and laughing, we gave each other funny nicknames. She called me Mama Du, which is short for Mama Dugong. A dugong is a sea creature, also called a sea cow. It’s chubby and looks really cute, but it swims very gracefully—just like us. Oh, and I called her Baby Du, short for Baby Dugong, because she was younger than me—okay, and maybe not as round. Then again, we didn’t mind being round, because we still felt beautiful and happy in our own skin. That was one of the most fun days I have ever spent at the beach, and one I will never forget.
(Here’s a photo of a dugong I found on the Internet, by the way, just so you understand how cute we thought we were.)
Many years later, when Kathy was already a mom to Gaby and Alexa and a wife to John, we met up again. It was so nice to see her, but as always, she found a way to make the meeting more memorable—she baked me a delicious apple pie! As it turns out, Kathy had become a really fantastic baker who made delicious cookies and pies.
I am so glad I stayed in touch with my friend Kathy all these years. When I got sick with cancer, she prayed for me and sent me good wishes, and they helped me get better. When it was Baby Du’s turn to get sick, I prayed for her, too, and gave her some advice (although she had found a way to learn everything about her illness, of course). And she got better, and moved with her family to a new home in a new country.
It made me so very, very sad to hear that Kathy was sick again. I guess her sickness came back before mine did, because that happens sometimes. (People who have had cancer never really know for sure, which is why we should always enjoy life while we can.) But somehow, I’m not too worried. I read everything Kathy is writing about preparing for whatever happens, and I tell myself, there she goes again: finding a way to make things better.
Whether she continues to stay here on Earth, or leaves for a while to prepare Heaven for the rest of us until it’s time to meet up and eat pie and pan de coco again, she will always be around, especially for her kids. My friend Kathy has found a way to live forever in my heart.