For the last couple years, before I would go on a trip, I’d try to find an episode of Parts Unknown and watch it — making notes of the places and food that usually get overlooked on most travel channels.
I remember the episodes on Cairo, Bronx, LA, Lebanon, etc. (I could count atleast 3 things I would never have otherwise tasted and experienced that came from an episode when we finally travelled to Egypt).
I remember when the Philippines was featured — a Christmas Special — and I thought to myself, this is probably the first one I’ve seen of an outside perspective that captures so much of who we are as a people — the good, the great, the bad, the ugly. It was without the popular beaches the Philippines is now known for. It was with all the dirty streets, the pouring rain, the smiling faces, the karaoke and the reality behind the ‘Balikbayan’ boxes. It wasn’t your usual travelogue: trendy and picture-perfect. It was life as I knew it, growing up in those streets — it was raw and real. And that’s what made it so beautiful.
He does that with the places he features — make them come alive not because they’re perfect but because they are so humanly imperfect. I’ll always be so grateful.
I want so badly to be Anthony Bourdain when I grow up — his respect, irreverence, humor, sincerity, energy, LOVE… his deep insight into the human soul — individual and collective.
Thank you for wonderfully shedding light into those “unknown” (aka overlooked because they’re not aesthetically pleasing or popular) parts of life and culture. You helped us embrace and enjoy and delight in the diversity …. instead of being repelled or afraid by it.
So here I was thinking that those episodes are going to be endless. Today, you were found dead. Suicide. ? My friend, rest in holy peace.
Flashback…. I once spoke to someone who was contemplating suicide.
My brain, with all its mental capacities, couldn’t fully grasp it. “Really? Why?” – were the first things that I wanted to ask, which looking back now was stupid.
How can someone verbalize the pain, the mental anguish, the heartbreak that comes into thinking and saying, “I don’t want to wake up anymore.”
The person looked at me helplessly. I had no words. She/he had no words either.
And for all my love of the written and spoken language, I knew that day, if I tried, words would have failed me.
What does it mean to just BE?
To not preach? To just listen — without the obstacle of someone talking and wanting to give advice? To reach out and make people feel that you care, unhindered by words we like to say such as “be strong, you’ll be fine, cheer up.” How many times have we said it to reach out, but the receiving side look at it as “i’m weak, it’s all in my head, i’m a party pooper.”
What does it mean to have a conversation that matters? To allow someone to take your skin off and trust that they will take the time to really look at you – blood, scars, gore and still say, you’re beautiful and I love you?
What does it mean to give people the time of the day? To remove the beeps, the sounds, the tweets, the lights, and just be in each other’s presence?
How does it feel to really listen? How does it feel to be heard?
One day, because I’m not an enlightened human and I can be pretty awful, I awkwardly asked this person, “You know some people think people who do that go to you know…”
This person, with all her/his ghosts and shadows, looks me in the eye and says, “Nothing can separate me from the love of God. Not even death.”
And again, words failed me.
I’m not romanticising suicide. God forbid, I romanticize suicide.
But if you are thinking, wondering about it…. Please know that there is a LOVE out there so much greater than the grave. And that no matter where you go, how far you’ve gone, how many lines you’ve crossed, it will follow you. Nothing you can do or say or be is going to separate you from that love. It is real. It exists. It is inside of you. It is outside of you. If you believe nothing else, believe in that.
I wanted to say to this person, “But what about your family, friends, dreams…” And I realize how that sounded.
I remember people saying, “What a waste.” And it’s crazy, because when people say that, I think they mean it like, it’s a waste to the person who did it. But no, if it’s a “waste” — then it is for us, the people left behind.
If you’re thinking about suicide, wondering about it — please, please know that we (I) really need you here. I’ll admit it is partly (if not purely) for selfish reasons. Just like the selfish reason of wondering how many more places could have Anthony visited and shed light into — what that episode in France would have looked like. How many more lives could he have touched like he touched mine… I really wanted to meet him and hear his story. I’m sorry that it’s selfish. Just like the selfish reason of wondering if my friend’s sister would have been a great dancer or a comedian or what she would have done after graduation. It’s selfish, because I know you’re part of this big puzzle and mystery we call life — and no matter how small or big you think you are — you matter.
You are that flap of a butterfly wing that can make or break that hurricane.
I want you here because I need you to be who you are so I (we) can become who I (we) were meant to be. I really, really, believe this — there is an invisible dot connecting all of us and it creates this big, crazy, wonderful image that you can only see from up above. Please, please, look at your life through heaven’s eyes.
Also, I really need you here because I love stories and I need to hear yours. The world need to hear yours.
So, I’m getting all emotional and rambling now. Let me just stop here.
God, expand our hearts so we may truly learn how to listen and expand our souls so we may be weak enough to want to be truly heard.
