March 17 – Être à Paris

To be in Paris for the first time since my last visit here with Caitlin.

I am in a hotel, by myself, a stop on my way to an artist’s residency for the next couple of weeks. Arriving here, after an overnight flight and taxi ride with a terrifyingly bad driver, I found myself even more in awe of Caitlin and the way she hauled her oxygen concentrator and suitcase full of medicine all the way over here to live by herself for a few weeks, to have that experience, only a year before she would need to be listed for a transplant.

Today, the pain of missing her was terribly close to the surface as I walked to the Marais to meet a friend for lunch. Caitlin is with you, people always say. She is always with you. I know she is, but it’s not the same as laughing and being together in real time. It’s not like visiting museums and having lunch and going to the spa together, like the mother and daughter I found myself watching in my hotel.

As I made my way to the Marais, I took a detour along the Île Saint-Louis, where, during Caitlin’s college days, she and I once rented a little flat for two weeks to get a feel for what it was like to ‘live in Paris.’ (This was before VRBO and Airbnb, when renting an apartment for a short vacation took some effort.)

Today was rainy and the mood was melancholy but I was grateful for the private shelter of an umbrella. I took a left at the street Caitlin and I had jokingly pronounced “the roo of two ponts.” Then I took a right and there I was, on a street that is as it’s been for more years than you or I could know it. Stone residences that date from the 17th century.

Standing there, I remembered our little flat and its long golden drapes that swept away from the window and offered a close-up view of the green waters of the Seine. I remembered how perfect and beautiful our choice to stay there had felt. I felt alone and close to tears.

And then – I remembered the way the Bateaux-Mouches played over-the-top operatic music at that particular bend of the river and how the music was so ridiculously loud that we laughed out loud every single time.

Back then, I took a photo of Caitlin at our window.

Today, I took a photo of today.

There is a hotel in Miami – The Betsy – that is owned by the son of the writer Hyam Plutzik. The hotel’s logo is a line written by Mr. Plutzik, a line comes to me often:

Expect no more. This is happiness.

-Maryanne

December 20 -We have the power

Caitlin left this earthly plane seven years ago. Seven years is impossible, as was two, as will be twenty.

What endures: her wisdom, her words, the good she continues to inspire.

The Caitlin O’Hara Community Health Clinic is saving lives. The Leo Project community programs are thriving, as is Jess – who just finished her first semester of her MPH program at Harvard, whilst also running the show in Kenya. 👏🏼 !

Nick is working on stone installations in her memory -hopefully to be shared with you in 2024.

I committed to returning to the novel I was writing during the transplant wait. I finished and plan to dedicate it to her memory. (She was its first reader, its best editor, and a fan. 🙂 )

During the years of that wait, when I often only had the time to write for 30 precious minutes a day, it was easy for writing to feel futile. Pointless. But one day I received a letter. It was from a reader of Cascade who, after finishing it, was moved to quit her job and commit to the painting career she’d dreamed of for years. Never underestimate the power of your art to change lives, she wrote. That letter kept me going during some dark times.

It’s easy to underestimate the positive influence each of us has on others, often without ever knowing about it. It’s a hard time on this planet right now but we can all do what feels good and right. I’ll leave us with Caitlin’s powerful last message:

“There is so much suffering in the world … so much. My belief though at least is – the world was not meant to always be fair or fun or easy. The world is teeming with life, and death, and pain, and Donald Trump even haha. We just have to keep living. Step back. We are just tiny beings. There are lobsters living at the bottom of the ocean for over a hundred years. They have just been sitting down there through all of our lives and wars and lives before us. We aren’t that much different from lobsters really if you pull back a little. All part of this teeming painful wonderful world where so much is just luck. But we can choose to be kind, and to keep trying — we have the power.”

Peace on earth, goodwill to all.

Maryanne ♥️

July 29 – 2 months overdue: Paris, Cats, Synchronicities

On the book shelf designated ‘special’ in our living room, I display a Mother’s Day card, one of the last I received from Caitlin. It is from the first year of her transplant wait, when we assumed that life would be back to normal within a year.

In the long note inside, she compared herself to the fat robin on the card’s cover. “This robin is me, sitting squished in its nest, and thank you mummy for helping me make this wait 110% easier. I love you so much, I can’t write it in a card. Next Mother’s Day – Paris. Just Paris for every holiday, how about that? Love, Kitten.”

I open and read it sometimes, when I can bear it.

In February, Caitlin’s cousin Sinéad, the Irish intuitive, decided to host a retreat in Malta. It would take place over my birthday weekend. Its theme would be abundance and I knew that it would be light-guided, with new-moon regenerative energy. Good for my mental health. Plus: Malta. An adventure. A random place I would not normally think to visit. Katie decided to come, too, from Spain. And Jess planned to, but then had to bow out last minute because she is just so busy preparing to open The Caitlin O’Hara Community Health Clinic in Kenya.

Just before departure, I realized that my double-leg flight to the island would have me arrive in the Paris airport on Mother’s Day. As I was packing, I let myself imagine the reality of Caitlin alive and going on the retreat, too. It would have been a much longer trip that -of course- would have included time in Paris. I imagined it so well that it hurt. I even took the card from the shelf and let myself read all the words. Then I left for the airport.

People ask me, all the time, “Do you still get signs?” I laugh, because yes I do get them. ALL THE TIME. Every day. Some signs:

* Our flight’s estimated arrival was 7:33 am and landed on time.

As we taxied into CDG, I looked out and the first thing I saw was a sign with the letters CAT.

* Our Delta flight parked right next to a Kenya Air plane.

* In Malta, I had arranged for a driver to pick me up. As he was leading the way in the parking lot, I saw a car with a license plate that was Caitlin’s birthday. I thought to myself, ‘I must take a photo of that and show Nick. ‘

And then the driver stopped. It was his car.

Sinéad had given me a head’s up that the energy on Malta was off the charts. And it was true. We were 12 women – most from Ireland – and it was a new experience for me to be part of such a group, exploring ways to balance one’s human yin and yang energies, to contemplate the shadows and the light that make up the psyche. We had overwhelming, positive experiences. Synchronicities that were so wild. One women mentioned a beloved nephew who died, aged 33 too, a few years back. She said that a little bridge in Ireland was dedicated to him. I asked, was the bridge possibly near the Sally Gap in Wicklow?

It was.

Nick and I crossed it on a wander last September, and stopped to pay our respects.

During our ceremonies, which were outdoors, a cat meowed rather incessantly, but was only seen and heard during the ceremonies.

In the city gardens next door, a FANCY FOWL & PIGEON show was on display. (iykyk)

I share all this to remind you of the comfort and magic of synchronicities and to acknowledge the archetype of the great mother. On my birthday, Katie found peonies for me. Caitlin had always gifted them to me on my birthday. “These are from me and Sinead and Jess. All your daughters.”

Grateful.

OCTOBER 16 – A little sign ✨

That last autumn, Caitlin binged on a cooking show she’d discovered. She usually watched while I cooked dinner, and since the kitchen overlooked the living area of our Pittsburgh condo, I became vaguely aware of a big tent inside of which a bunch of regular-looking people turned out regular-looking pies and biscuits. One day I took a closer look as Caitlin applauded the winner. The winning cake looked so….ordinary.

“I don’t get it?” I said.

The show was WONDERFUL, Caitlin explained. It was cozy, it was comforting. The contestants were all supportive of each other, and she loved how the camera would sometimes pan outside the tent to take in the bucolic setting, how the lens would pause upon some calming thing: a bird, a flower, rain dripping from leaves.

July 31 — A bomb in Paris triggered superstition, then acceptance of her situation. Words from Caitlin on her birthday 🌟

We are on Martha’s Vineyard, and today is Caitlin’s birthday. I’m reminded of another birthday of hers spent here, the year she turned 12. It was the terrible year of lung surgeries and months-long inpatient recoveries. But that summer, we received a two-week respite from the hospital, and the respite was spent here. Those weeks return to me in images that feel other-worldly, suspended in time, magical. Riding the Flying Horses carousel in Oak Bluffs, spending hours on State Beach reading The Stone Diaries, a book that would later become a lifelong favorite of Caitlin’s, buying boxes of Murdick’s Fudge. Hearing news of a bombing in Paris that shocked us and caused us to wonder whether life really did unfold for a reason.

Caitlin wrote about that year and its Paris connection in an essay when she was a college sophomore. I’ll let her take over:

July 19 – Look back and pick out one thing

Jess and I were looking through old writings to find one of Caitlin’s wise nuggets for a quote on a wall mural she’s creating in Kenya. I found this in an old email she wrote to me. It’s a good practice, and thought I’d share: “I always look back on each year and pick out one thing I learned. Being able to self-reflect and change yourself…what a cool quality.”

Encouraging self-reflection is a big part of the talks that I give. Recently, I’ve had the chance to do some speaking in person, as opposed to Zoom events where I cannot see or sense the audience. The experience of seeing real people, and interacting with them, has been incredibly meaningful. Powerful. Virtual is handy, though, and I will be doing one more Zoom event this summer – tomorrow, Wednesday, July 20 at 7pm ET.

–-> Click here to register <–

May 20 – Ruminations on yesterday’s birthday (bionic text)

The other day, somebody ( I want to say Dani Shapiro ) posted a quote by Renata Adler:

“Self-pity” is just sadness, I think, in the pejorative.”

March 15 – only Now ֎

Recently, I had the uncanny experience of sending a friend of Caitlin’s a rare gift – a baby present that Caitlin had purchased in Bruges in 2011, in the event that this friend ever had a little boy. Mieke recently gave birth to a son and what a pleasure, to send that tiny Dutch knitted hat.

I’ve also found a few letters Caitlin addressed but never mailed, and to stamp and send them was like watching my hand reach through the veil.

DECEMBER 6 – ‘We are such stuff / As dreams are made on

and our little life / Is rounded with a sleep.’

Two years of COVID. Five years since I last saw Caitlin’s beautiful face. Life has wings and time is a dream.

Little Matches has been out since late April and I’ve been working hard to get people to know it exists, to plant the seeds that will keep this evergreen book alive. 🌲

In honor of Caitlin and this unbelievable, upcoming fifth anniversary of her absence from our world, I’m asking people to holiday-gift a copy of Little Matches to someone who might be in need of healing or inspiration. That “someone” could be a friend, a family member, or, maybe even better: a complete stranger. 📖

It’s been incredibly healing for me to hear how Caitlin’s story affects people. The pre-med student who posts: “Little Matches is the most important reading that I have read in all of college to prepare me for medical school, and to help me fully realize why I want to be a physician. I do not think this was Maryanne’s intention to train future physicians in this way, but she was still able to have this effect on me.” The reader who reaches out through social media: “I was transfixed by Little Matches, and grateful to know of the possibilities that fill our world. Thank you so much for this gift. What I learned has changed me…I just finished the book, and cannot explain all of my thoughts and feelings.” The high school student who messages: “i have never been much of a reader. i actually used to say i hated reading. your book has changed that. it has also allowed me the ability to find the light in such horrific pain.” ❤️

If you’d like to honor Caitlin’s memory and donate a copy of LITTLE MATCHES to a grief support center, I’ve compiled a list of some around the country. Knowing that strangers will be helped by Caitlin’s story helps ease the pain of this anniversary season for all of us who grieve her so much. ✨✨✨

Common Ground Grief Center – 67 Taylor Ave. Manasquan, NJ 08736
Kara Grief Support – 457 Kingsley Ave., Palo Alto, CA 94301
EveryStep Grief and Loss Services – 1821 Grand Avenue, West Des Moines, IA 50265
Tristesse Grief Center – 2502 E. 71st Street Suite A, Tulsa, OK 74136
Wendt Center for Loss and Healing – P.O. Box 45924, Baltimore, MD 21297-5924
Agrace Grief Support Center – 2906 Marketplace Drive, Fitchburg, WI 53719
Good Grief Program at Boston Medical Center – 801 Albany St 1st Floor, Suite 1026, Roxbury, MA 02119
GracePoint Grief Center – 650 Ten Rod Rd, North Kingstown, RI 02852
Lost and Found Grief Center – 1555 S. Glenstone Ave., Springfield, MO 65804
Dougy Grief Center – PO Box 86852, Portland, OR 97286
Mettle Health Online Holistic Care – 51 E Blithedale Ave, Mill Valley, CA 94941
Our House Grief Support Center – 21860 Burbank Blvd., North Building, Suite 195, Woodland Hills, CA 91367
Halifax Health Grief Center – 1500 S. Daytona Ave., Flagler Beach, FL 32136
Halifax Health Grief Center – 655 North Clyde Morris Boulevard, Daytona Beach, Florida 32114
Halifax Health Grief Center – 5210 S. Orange Avenue, Orlando, FL 32809
Bo’s Place – 10050 Buffalo Speedway, Houston, TX 77054
New Life Hospice – “Living Through Grief” – Lorain County VA Outpatient Clinic, 5255 North Abbe Rd. Sheffield Village, OH 44035

“This is a book about life, including death. For showing us how to hold both, we owe Maryanne and Caitlin a magnificent debt of gratitude. Here is love in ink, and you will feel it. That’s not to say that their story is easy to behold—you will cry—but that’s key to the book’s great achievement: within a connection like theirs, everything has a home. Despair, hope, fear, beauty, decay, out of this world, in this world. It turns out that death poses no threat to love. Read this book to help you know that in your bones.”

—B. J. Miller, M.D., author of A Beginner’s Guide to the End

Thank you!

KENYA

I am about to head over to Kenya to see, firsthand, The Leo Project and the Caitlin O’Hara Community Health Clinic. I’ll be sharing photos of Jess Danforth’s incredible accomplishments in honor of Kitten, as well as photos of beautiful Africa, on my Instagram account (follow @maryanneohara) and in forthcoming blog posts.

I am wishing every one of you much peace and good health this holiday season. I also want to send out the most heartfelt thank you for the support. Promoting a book during a pandemic, on Zoom, has been lonely. I miss the personal connection — talking to people, sharing experiences. I cannot wait until we can connect during in-person events.

July 16 – Magic Caitlin

It’s a wondrous thing to create a child, send her out into the world, and see what happens. Caitlin’s life influenced many others and over the years, especially the last few, it’s been heartening to learn how. One friend from her high school days is an artist and a few months ago, told me she had begun working on a painting of Caitlin.

Kat David is humble. Last weekend she sent me the painting. “I hope you like it,” she wrote. Like it? It’s magnificent. I was so enthralled that I decided it needed an unveiling, so this post is the official unveiling of MAGIC CAITLIN.

Kat wrote: I am so glad you like it ❣️ The dandelion is supposed to be how her energy traveled and impacted so many people. The animals staring directly at the viewer are meant to convey some of her intensity. I tried to hide stuff throughout. The hearts were for your husband and his creative work and the book was how you and she share a love of writing and deeper meaning. I’m often reluctant to tell people what something I make means since I want people to see what is significant for them, like I want it to be subjective to the viewer. But in this case, I want you two to know there was deliberate meaning. Your family has magic so I wanted that to be shown. The book – the hearts and Caitlin are connected through touch and contact.

I had to ask Kat to please sign it (! – I said she was humble) and I also asked how she did it, because I knew people would be curious. She writes: Yes, it’s a digital painting. I made it using the procreate app on iPad. I use mostly oil painting brush packs and pastels. Some pencil brush packs.

To see more of her amazing work captured in-process, click here: Drawing a Shiny Pitcher

SINCE WE’RE HERE:

In other news, the amazing Jess is home taking the Global Health Delivery Intensive program at Harvard’s school of public health, and then scoots back to Kenya where she is overseeing the drilling of a borehole to provide the Nanyuki community with fresh water, and to begin construction on The Caitlin O’Hara Community Health Clinic.

Katie is home from Spain for the summer. Her translation career is exploding and her newest, a gorgeous novel by Javier Serena about a fictionalized Roberto Bolaño–esque writer, just received a Publisher’s Weekly starred review. The book is LAST WORDS ON EARTH, coming in September from OPEN LETTER Books.

Sinead got married yesterday and I’m heartbroken we had to cancel our trip but the quarantine rules are still strict – 12 days in a state-mandated fleabag hotel. I won’t publish any photos because I’m sure she wants to be first. Follow her on Instagram: sineaddehora

I saw Andrew in Maine a few weeks ago and it was a wonderful visit.

Medicine Needs Memoir – Our first talk is open to the public and is – surprise – on Caitlin’s birthday. Saturday, July 31 at 5:30ET

With Diane Shader Smith, speaking on behalf of her daughter Mallory Smith, author of SALT IN MY SOUL: An Unfinished Life, and David Weill, MD, author of EXHALE: Hope, Healing, and a Life in Transplant.

Anyone can attend. Click here to sign up: Register

MESSAGES

I’ve been getting a lot of wonderful notes from people and they come as instant messages, direct messages on all different platforms, and emails (I have way too many email addresses) – I’ve tried to respond to all but I fear I’ve missed some. My apologies if I have. Getting feedback means the world to me. I’m grateful for every word.

BOOK SALES

My writer friends and I laugh about the fact that the general public seems to think that once a book is published, it’s a bestseller. I can assure you this is not true. If you’ve been meaning to order LITTLE MATCHES or gift a copy to someone, please be my guest. This book can have a long life but we live in a noisy world and this book needs word-of-mouth. THANK YOU.