Monarch Lighthouse

TRIGGERS: mentions of suicidal thoughts, mental institutions, loss of life, grief, dealing with death, mental health journey up and downs

Summer 2019

All light disappears from the Earth on July 12, when a soul unreasonably was given back to the Lord. This soul has a big part in the grander community of the city I live in, and I have had the honor to grow up with her guidance. During her memorial service held at her sanctuary, her place of peace and everlasting love, now filled in black attire, dim lights and plenty of violent tears; one scene took me straight to my knees and the memories after this incident are a blur to a point I remember waking up the next morning.

Near the back entrance that connects the younger children developmental center and the teenager side, underneath the arch that splits the center hangs a piece of art I had given to her as a graduation present. At the time, I drew memories of being in the leadership group branching from all fourteen silhouettes standing near the Bean in Chicago and a colored pencil drawing of her, two other mentors in the center and myself. Those two pieces stood out to me immediately.

I dropped to my knees.

Fade to black.

Spring 2024

I haven't made peace with her being gone yet.

It's been so long without her presence, the business she loved for half a century is thriving and she would be proud of their newest developments. I attended their reopening in Spring and couldn't hold back the tears while going on the open ended tour. At this point, my four year old was going to Headstart at this building, so we made it a family function to go.

Around six in the evening, when the wish flowers were blowing some cotton fluff around the air, it was time for the event to disband. As my child and I were looking in the free bin, there was a Monarch butterfly that landed on the mini food pantry next to the open blue bin. My hand is steady on the bin so my child can scrummage through the many objects he found interesting, my eyes stayed on the oddly still butterfly.

As if it was observing our movements.

I turn my attention back to my son as he asks if he can take a deflated ball home.

As I shut the bin, the butterfly had been long gone. I take my child's hand, notice a line of trickling tears leading down my arm. She was there, wasn't she?

Spring 2025

I admitted myself into the mental hospital before Easter weekend. The events leading up to the admission is blurry nowadays, but I do remember being overworked with jobs, experiencing creative bankruptcy at the worst time, stressed with life and not having positive outlets to unleash stress onto. With retrospect, I felt helpless and had no outwards support. Thanks to my admission, I was able to get some mental answers and find solutions to getting a new line of work.

Then I met someone. Tobin, I thought was a highlight of the experience. I was reserved towards others in the hospital before meeting him in the lounge area, and him turning on the science channel and started spewing facts about the space program on. He then got interrupted by a patient who was heavily Christian and got into a verbal debate between faith. I, having no bias with exception of loving Veggietales shown in Sunday School, felt like I was intruding but I learned so much about Tobin specifically.

During movie night, the AMC channel was showing Karate Kid 2 and then the first three Indiana Jones movies. Most of the patients were in the lounge, but since Tobin and I were in there first, we chose to sit on the couch. I am not sure how we managed, but there were small touches that felt warm. Comforting. Familiar? I laid my head on him, subtly and gradually through the movies. I did not even mention the original game that brought us vocally together: Uno. All other groups had finished their games and lovely Ginger had won our game so quickly, so all eyes were on Tobin and I's match.

Every card flip, a subtle hint of opportunity.

A laugh, a spark of joy that I felt for the first time in a while. Shamefully, that's awful to say considering the decent life I have been surviving in, but thanks to suffering from anxiety and depressive disorders from the age of four years old; I do not feel the glass is half-full when I awake.

We dated outside of the hospital and I assumed everything was going okay. Eventually, he stopped communicating. I have tried to talk to him casually since then, but I am not going to chase someone who hasn't checked in. During one of the last times I assumed we were dating, around my apartment there were two Monarchs. They swarmed around each other, settled against some flowers before one took off. The other stayed stagnant. Did it die?

Present Day

Lori, it has been seven years.

I cried writing this, so I personally feel I'm still not over it. Professionals I spoke to and support groups I talk to all say the feeling of grief won't ever leave my soul, which hurts. Feels unfair. Sounds childish to admit, and especially since I do not have familiar connections to her, but during my childhood when I moved to a new city that my dad lived in as a youngin; she took us into the center and felt like we were welcomed.

I do not think it's healthy how much I've been either rocking or my fingers are shaking and hitting the wrong letters. I have been preparing my tattoo drawing of a lighthouse with lyrics from Kelly Clarkson's song with the same name, in honor of how much her teachings have inspired me to be the adult I am today.

I ride my bike to work and often stop and see plenty of fireflies, dragonflies and regular flies around. I haven't seen butterflies recently, but I do not think I needed to.

Monarch has transformed into a Lighthouse. A place where light shall never be lost again. Never to surrender to the dark temptations to escape this ever-increasing difficult life.

The lighthouse has many floors; the first houses the security that starts to shift unaliving thoughts away, enforcing that people are going to miss my presence if I were to jump off the Bridge.

The Bridge. Lori saved me from the Bridge years ago, but she's not here now. What's stopping me?

Security. Support from new friends. Fear. Disappointment that I'll disgrace my parents.

Also, an appreciation for life. The hospital saved me from having those types of plans by showing that people could be affected by me just existing. Without me at the hospital at that certain time, Tobin probably would have not gotten out of his shell and ready to be released. I would not have been able to grow. I would have remained stagnant.

I have always remained lonely, but strive to take my bike out for a new adventure on days off. Showing friendship-like qualities with my coworkers to the point where we are making fun of each other, jokingly, and it feels like we are actually friends is a new change. Something I haven't had truthfully. Sure, there was the leadership group, but we were not a group that would hang outside of the Club*, with a couple of split exceptions.

Nature has captured my attention wholeheartedly. Luscious pink clouds peeking over the lake during 4:30 sunrises, fireflies flickering their taillights in intermissions to where you curse yourself for blinking during their flicker, and fish jumping out of the river, making the water ripple around as it dips back down into the cool summit. That's also including freshly cut grass and a new appreciation for hedge-cutters for a specific patch on 8th Ave so I'm not cosplaying Neo at midnight. Double-rainbows happened twice this year, and I happened to be outside to capture the experience in the moment. I'll always appreciate a good tree, I swear on a monthly basis, I check out the Tree identification book and would wander around town and determine which tree is which.

I felt like this last part dragged a little, but I feel like I have a lot more to talk about today on a personal level than I do about the last four years combined. I feel partially this is healing, but overall its life working its course. Lori dying felt unnecessary at the time, but I am here now defending that if this singular event did not happen the way it did; my life would have turned out differently. A good way or bad? I am unsure, but I am glad in this version of life's scenarios, I seem to be doing okay.

As I climb back into the Lighthouse, I scurry past the security and climb the stairs of work, figuring out my own brain, social activities and financial responsibilities to stumble into the Light room. Inside, there is a panel with a giant Monarch that leads to a futon.

"You can rest" The voice booms out. Zordon inspired. "Welcome home."

---

END

DEDICATED TO LORI FIELDS rest peacefully 7/12/2019

[*The Club is the shorter name for the teenager side of Center Lori ran]

Author's Note: This story is talking about a real-life healing journey from losing an important figure in my real life. I hope I was respectful in showing my valid feelings and apologize for any uncomfortable feelings that came up when the "Bridge" was mentioned. Thank you for taking the time to read this story :)