Rest in Peace, dear Meyri

In October 2003, I arrived in Los Angeles, clueless and terrified about moving across the country, alone and away from my friends and family. My Dad was with me, thank goodness, and we stayed in temporary housing in West Hollywood provided by House of Blues, my employer at the time.

I had moved to L.A. from Boston after the House of Blues in Harvard Square closed and I was offered a job at their corporate headquarters in Hollywood. The first order of business was finding a place to live. I signed up for Westside Rentals to access the listings, and my Dad and I hit the pavement in sweltering heat - certainly the hottest October we’d ever experienced. We looked at what felt like an endless number of rental units, and settled on a mediocre, somewhat rundown studio near Russell & Western Ave. We wrote a check for the security deposit, but my Dad and I still had doubts. Afterwards, we got back in the car and drove north on Western, where the road curved into Los Feliz Blvd. With the towering pine trees on each side of us and Griffith Park to the left, we both instantly knew we found the right spot. When we parked and wandered around the charming village, we were even more certain that this was the place to live.

We walked north on Hillhurst, and stopped at the corner of Hillhurst and Los Feliz Blvd. waiting for the light to change. I just remember it being so hot and we were exhausted. Across the street we noticed a “For Rent” sign, and decided to check it out, still not satisfied with the place we secured. We rang the buzzer for the manager’s apartment and Meyri’s voice happily greeted us and buzzed us into the Melrose Place-style, three-story building with the apartments arranged around the pool. Meyri was waiting for us outside, and greeted us with the kindest smile and welcomed us into her home, where she offered us juice and cookies. For the first time since landing in L.A., we felt happy and at home.?

It was impossible not to feel that way—safe, happy, and at ease—around Meyri. She showed us the one-bedroom apartment, by far the best we’d seen, but at $775 a month, it was over my budget. We went back to Meyri’s, and thought it through. My Dad generously offered to help with the rent, and with that, we made our decision and canceled the check for the security deposit on the other unit. “Bravo, bravo!” Meyri said. Words I now miss and would hear often. While it was definitely the nicest apartment we found, I think my Dad really just wanted me to be with Meyri.?

I ended up living there for 17 years, lucky to have Meyri as a neighbor. It took me a long time to feel grounded in L.A.—a sprawling, isolating metropolis—but living in this place with Meyri was my center, my anchor, the place where I felt myself, felt taken care of, and felt a sense of home.

I was very unhappy during my first two years in L.A., and I decided to move back to Boston—only to return 10 months later. That’s a story for another day, but when I made the decision to come back, my first call was to Meyri. She held an available apartment for me, and I moved right back in.

Meyri quickly became like family, and I was lucky to get to know her wonderful family as well. I was invited to join them countless times around her dinner table, enjoying her delicious home-cooked meals. Her lentil soup and Armenian Gata cookies were my favorites. I continued to enjoy her cooking even after moving out of the complex and buying a condo across the street four years ago. Meyri would call me to say, “I made soup!” and I’d happily run over. I was also lucky to join Meyri and her family for a weekend in Pismo Beach, one of the many moments I’ll always treasure.?

Visiting Meyri meant you’d never leave hungry or empty-handed. Whether it was something she’d cooked herself or picked up at the store, you left with food. One day I complimented a bowl she had on display in her hutch, and next thing I knew it was mine. Meyri also often shared stories about her family’s journey, her own journey, and proudly spoke about her daughter Zara, son Marty, granddaughter Erica, and grandson Nishan, who has an incredible passion for music—something we share.

Meyri loved sharing pictures of her family through the generations and explaining the plotlines of her Armenian soap operas. One afternoon hanging out in her living room (I believe she was making grape leaves at the time) I got hooked on a particularly juicy love triangle. She also loved showing me the thoughtful gifts her students gave her from the school where she worked.

Meyri was hilarious. Two random memories always make me laugh. Our balconies both faced Los Feliz Boulevard and mine was constantly covered in soot from the traffic. I could never keep it clean, so I asked, “Meyri, how do you keep your balcony so clean?” She looked at me and said, matter-of-factly, “I sweep!”??

Another time, we were sitting at her dining room table when a tenant stopped by and said, “Meyri, I smell gas!” She bluntly replied, “Call the gas company!” Her straightforward nature was classic Meyri.

She knew everyone in my family, and always asked about them. She prayed—I think quite literally—that I would find a worthy boyfriend. I will always regret that I never got the chance to tell her I’m engaged, or introduce her to my fiance. But, I did tell her about him, and in true Meryi fashion, she said “Don’t live together. You stay here and he stays there. He can come over to visit, and then he can leave.”

We always shared a laugh about the crazy tenants, agreeing that they were, in fact, a bit crazy. Meyri protected me from these people over the years, and when one situation became especially untenable, she offered me the chance to move into a different unit, which I gladly accepted.

I will always regret not seeing Meyri as often as I intended to this year. It's been about six months since we last saw each other, even though I meant to visit her many times. For weeks now, I’ve thought to myself, and shared in conversation with friends and family, “I have to go see Meyri.” Consumed by my own busyness, constantly chasing the clock, and trying to keep up with what felt like urgent priorities and various commitments, time just slipped away so quickly. I’m grateful that my last words to her were “I love you.” Meyri was often on my mind. I had just bought her Christmas present, planning to deliver it this past Friday, before my holiday travels began. She passed away the night before.

In many ways, Meyri was my L.A. Mom., and I will miss her dearly. I don’t know if I would have survived L.A. without Meyri, and L.A. without her will never be the same.?