The Story of a Salad & How One Completely Changed My Life

What is the saddest that you have ever been??

Not a great way to start a story I realize. Maybe based on this you don’t continue to read; anyway this is going to get long and the content won’t get much better; it’s a difficult story to tell and maybe even harder for you to read. If it’s a beautiful day and sunny where you are, maybe go outside instead. If you choose to stick around, if you choose to continue reading, I’ll do my best to tell the story in a way that holds attention and has a message at the end. Now that this is said and I have hyped myself too much I’ll tell you a story about a salad and how it changed my life.

You must now be thinking where is this guy going? Is he going to tell us about ranch dressing and tomatoes on the side? Maybe he asked for blue cheese and they were out; why did he ask me about a time that I was sad? Are the two things tied together? Sadness & salad together hand in hand? That’s not it at all. The salad made me ... well we will get there in due time. The sadness came days before that salad ever entered my life.?

It all started with a phone call from my older brother. That was 13 years ago almost to the day as I write this. As I said it started with that phone call from my older brother. The one that never calls. For me it was early in the morning, for him later in the day. Portland and New York are a continent away. My immediate thought when I saw the number on my screen was "it’s a call about his wedding" as the day was coming up. Fairly cheerful for an early morning I gladly answered the phone to see what was up.?

The words that were next spoken were what, for me, let the sadness in. The shock of the moment lead to grief finding a residence within.?

To put myself back in that moment - it’s chaos and I am lost. Spun out, off kilter, drowning in my mind. How could this happen? What the hell went wrong? It’s Not Possible, still I want to yell!!

A whirlwind of emotion. What do I do now? We are half a world apart. A phone call I’m asked to make to my aunt in San Francisco who is likely not awake. How can I tell anyone this news? It’s asked of me so I do. A gift of grief I give. Yet it comes not from me; its not my gift to give. This grief is new and all her own. Sadness has a way of doing that; shared yet different and absolutely unique. At least that’s what we think.

Hold up! What happened? What did your brother say? What did you tell your aunt?

I told you that this was a story about a salad and how it changed my life. How’d we even get here? Why am I so jumbled up? Grief, it can do that. This I bet you know if you have ever suffered loss. It happens all too often, loss I mean. We move so fast, we move right on past it, don’t recognize the symptoms or the signs. Quietly suffering, a prisoner of our mind. Alone. Lost. Brokenhearted. Simply in need of help. If anyone could see me… why is no one speaking up?

Damn, this grief thing is hard. I’m sorry if I’ve missed it. I’m sorry if I didn’t ask. I’m sorry if I didn’t give the help I know I could have given.

A salad in an airport late at night. That’s what help looked like for me. It really changed my life. I don’t know if I have been more grateful prior or ever since. Someone saw me in a moment and gave me what I needed.

Two, three days, prior, I’m really not sure, the words my brother told me was that my cousin, Anthony David Missasi, had taken his own life. He was only 26. 13 years later as I write these words I’m still cursing God in heaven for allowing this to happen.

A lot has happened since that time. I’m not the same as I was then. Maybe now I would handle this differently, I may not need the salad in the same way I did back then.

Well here it comes the moment we’ve been waiting for; was the dressing cesar or was it ranch? I’ll tell you that salad could’ve been topped with the finest oil or taken from the trash. It really would not matter so long as I got to eat it.

My flight to NY was on the overnight, Portland to Denver, Denver to JFK. I got to the airport early, hours before my flight. I spent my time at the bar, drinking to forget where I was going and why.

"A beer and a whiskey please." "Thank you." "Hey, I’ll take another and make the whiskey a double." Surely this will knock me out while I’m on my flight.

Not a thing. Wow, this grief is strong.

I get to Denver after quietly shedding tears all along the way. I realize I haven’t eaten. Probably I should do that now. It's still a long way from Denver to JFK. I find an open restaurant. The waiter tells me he can get me anything I want to drink, "sorry the kitchen is closed", feel free to find something for sale in the fridge. I say “OK, I’ll look.”

Sandwiches and salads, all prepackaged, pre-made for late night folks like me or people in a hurry. Except they are not made for me that is. Chicken, ham, steak, turkey and the like on all the sandwiches and salads. Being vegetarian shouldn’t be so hard. I really just need some food.

I go back to the table and flag the waiter down. “I’m sorry there is nothing in the fridge for me. I don’t eat meat.”?

“Kitchen’s closed. Nothing we can do” quickly comes his reply.

Moment of truth. Do I tell him what is really going on?

Desperate I do. “I’m flying home to NY because my cousin killed himself. Please, is there anything you can do?”

Shortly after in front of me I have that salad, the one that changed my life. It's simple, chopped lettuce, tomato, and maybe shredded cheese. I’m guessing the dressing was ranch; I really don’t remember. What I'll never forget is the kindness that waiter gave. Not just him but the kitchen staff too. They stopped what they were doing, in the midst of cleaning up, to make a salad for a person they never met. A person who was hurting, a person who was in need. I’m telling you that moment changed my life.

Maybe you don’t get it. Maybe you are thinking, it took ten minutes of their time. It was just a simple salad. Really, the very least that they could do.

They did not have to; for me that is the point. They did not have to do it. They delayed their plans. They put aside their own agenda and met me where I was at. They gave me what I needed. They saw a fellow human. For a moment they walked along my path. They had never met me; not before or after. And still they came to my rescue. A moment for them long forgotten; they likely never thought of it again.

Here I am 13 years later telling this story to you who have taken time to listen and maybe that's the point. The moral of this story.

Can you hear it? Can you see it?

It’s that saying you have probably, a hundred or more times, heard. “You never know what someone is going through.”

And, yes, it did take me sharing what I was going through to move the staff to act. All that means is that there are multiple lessons in this. If you are struggling, ask for help. People will be willing to give you the help you need, sometimes they just need to know the reason why. Seriously there have been studies done on this; on saying the reason why.

Try this on for size:

Scenario 1:

A person walks to the middle of a long line and says “Can I cut you?”

The respondent's reply “No” while thinking "that person is crazy for even asking".?

Scenario 2:

A person walks to the middle of a long line and says “Can I cut you? I have to get to the front.”?

The respondent says “Sure.” then thinks "wait a second I want to get to the front too."

The difference; the added reason why.

Can we listen for words unspoken? Questions never asked? A need that is present and at the same time never shared? In that moment in the air; I needed a salad or more specifically food. What I received was sustenance for my body, mind, and soul.?

My cousin needed something different… or maybe a salad could have also changed his life. I so wish it had.?

This story though is not about me. This story is not about him. And yes I do love him; I miss who he could have been.

This story, though, is about us. About all of us here living this thing that we call life.

It’s a call for us to listen for words unspoken, and to meet people where they are. It’s a call to speak up and to ask for what we need. Can we do that for ourselves? Can we do that for each other? I promise you if you do it will completely change your life.

If enough of us commit and do it, the world will change before our eyes.

Look out there, we really, really need it.

WE NEED YOU.

*** Call or text the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 988 if you or someone you know needs additional support. In an emergency always call 911 ***

In loving memory of Anthony David Missasi (Aug 27 1984 - Apr 18 2011)