There is this great fear I hold deep within my heart, a fear I think many people my age share- the fear of not finding their Ithaca. (For those who aren’t familiar with the greater meaning of Ithaca, please read the poem by Cavafy. You won’t regret it.) I’m so scared of spending my life pursuing, fleeting, or always searching for that immense feeling of satisfaction that fits you just right. I want to find that happiness, those fine emotions that touch your soul. I want to find that happiness, that certain joy in yourself that can only be explained with “Just because…” At the end of my life, I want to find Ithaca poor with nothing to offer and I want to be satisfied with just that. At the end of my voyage there shouldn’t be any riches or treasures for me to find, Ithaca would always be Ithaca, a destination-the end.

I envy people with direction in their life. Those very lucky people who have already found their passion in life, the infallible obsession they find joy in. At the same time however, I admire those people too. I’ve come to look up to them. Often times I find myself sharing in their passion and zeal for their obsession, hopeful that it’s contagious. Whether it’s a friend immersed in the art of dance, a classmate set on filming the world, or a teacher living out their dream right before me, they are all inspirations to me- a pushing factor to get me to where I must be. For these people, I am thankful for. In their own right they have become my heroes, my guiding light.

Ithaca. I’m sure if I had to choose one thing that she has taught me, it would definitely be Ithaca. That word carries so much meaning that there is no way for me to explain it. Her passion for her Ithaca is so inspiring. You can truly see, feel her joy and happiness when she tells of those fine emotions. And as her former student, her words have truly found their ways into my heart, always echoing their message and hitting home. Reading her letters, her messages (that one note on obsession I found looking through notes on Facebook) never fails to set my heart on fire. I don’t think I idolize her or put her on a pedestal. She is simply my hero in the sense that she has journeyed her way to Ithaca in the way I hope to travel mine. She saw her Ithaca far off into the distance and spear headed her way to her home but never once unappreciative of her journey. And though she has found her Ithaca, being a teacher, she still thirsts for more. In that landing on the shores of Ithaca she has set sail again, knowing that there’s greater destinations that her dreams will bring her. (I hope if you’re reading this Ms. Lacdao, you do know I will be forever embarrassed if you let me know you’ve read this. So please don’t let me know. Thank you!)

Strength. In my eyes there is no one stronger than my mom. Of course her strength is not physical because that would make her ‘power’ finite.  Her strength lies in her soul, her faith, her bravado, her way of life. Ever since I was little I knew there was something special about my mom-probably every five year old girl shares my perspective on their moms. She had an extraordinary zeal about her, as if she was always fighting the tides of life. She stood firm and resilient. Early on, I knew my mother was a force to be reckoned with. However, it was only recently that I –my mom and I suppose our whole family realized how strong my mom was. It was a year ago that she began her fight with breast cancer. It takes a great, phenomenal woman to fight as courageously as she has. To endure such great pain, to know what her condition means and what it will bring her, how it will change her, without ever saying I give up. No I’m not saying that my mom’s pain is far greater than anyone else’s or her fight is more worthy, that would be a great injustice to the world. But she’s my mom, and in my life she’s the strength. She fights on every day, not always winning the fight but overcoming the battle. I always tell her how strong she is, only to have tell me “I just believe in God. My God is strong.” She firmly believes that her having cancer has a greater purpose, a greater meaning that just having cancer. Though that greater purpose is unknown to her, she does not doubt it. I know every mom must guide their children through life, but I believe my mom is paving my path to God. I don’t tell her so, but if she has that greater purpose in fighting cancer, that’s her purpose with me.