Mary Li

I once knew a woman named Mary Li. I knew her since I was born. She was much older than me, but I took to her because she was remarkably intelligent and wise, and I thought she could teach me to be a fine young woman. It was my own wrongdoing that severed our friendship permanently later on. After seventeen years, I’ve begun to reconcile with her memories and the influence she has had over me. Her life and, especially, my time with her, inspires my every step forward.

The first of three sisters born to a poor family in Goa, India, Mary Li was a trailblazer from birth. In a one bedroom apartment that housed ten or more people at any given moment, Mary Li took care of her younger sisters, cooked, and studied late into the night. She was absorbed in the rich culture of India. On the terrace of the building, she led her band of neighborhood kids in badminton and kite flying. Mary Li set the trend for schoolgirls with her crafty outfits and chic hairstyles. She impressed upon people with her small and quiet demure yet outspoken voice. She hand-wrote in immaculate font the quote of the day each morning on the school bulletin, recited compelling speeches in competitions, and performed in all the town’s celebrations. She stood up to injustice; she had a voice of reason regardless of who her opposition was. She always did what she must to defend her family, her friends, and herself.

Throughout her youth, Mary Li had two BIG dreams, 1) to go to America and 2) to marry the man of her choosing, and she eventually accomplished both. However, the odds were stacked against her, and by odds, I mean her family, friends, her town, her family’s lack of money, everyone, everything. She often says that miracles happened for her to get her dreams, but I believe it was her innate grit and self-dependency coupled with her intelligence. If she were like anyone else in her town, she would have been pulled into the deep water and forever remained there. During her twenties, she faced crushing obstacles, but she fought her way through, all by herself. As a young girl, I did not know that all fights left scars. You really couldn’t see any on her. But when I last looked at her, in her aged body in which one can no longer hide her blemishes and cracks, the scars were so immediately visible. Either I was aloof as a child or she had hidden them from me.

I remember that when I first came to know Mary, she was carrying her own once again. As she relayed these stories to me, I took myself to be her successor. I was a young ambitious girl under her guidance, and of course, I wanted to be just like her. Except, I wasn’t anything like her. I mean, I too had a small and quiet demure, but I hadn’t had a clue of what it meant to be a fighter and a survivor. I did not have her heavy upbringing of shackled circumstances, locked opportunities, and distant dreams. I did not have dirt thrown in my face for my life’s work which she had. I was easygoing, she would say. I could not prove to her nor to myself that I could ever be like her. As I came to that realization as a child, I started to distance myself from her. I could not accept our fundamental differences, and the more time I spent with her, the more I looked at myself with disappointment. As the years went on, I became rebellious, defiant, and resistant. She wanted to offer me help and guidance, and I pushed her away each time until it became a subconscious habit. I’m not a psychologist, so I can’t say what it was that made me behave as I did. I just know I was the most defensive one could possibly be whenever I was around her and that led to the worst of my behavior around her. You have to know that I didn’t want to be terrible towards her, but I refused to accept that my attitude was wrong instead justifying it as me standing on my own as she had and a lot of other bogus reasons. I always respected and cherished her deeply. Now, when I relive these memory, I understand the look in her eyes. She knew how I felt. I must have broken her heart a thousand times over.

In hindsight, I can only reason that I wanted to be perfect for her at a young age where I didn’t know the laws of humanity so instead, I shackled myself to ideas, locked myself in a fantasy, and distanced myself from reality.

In the beginning of this story, I wrote that this wrongdoing on my part permanently severed our friendship. What I mean by that is not that we never spoke to each other again or even that we were never friends again. I only mean to emphasize that the cut was too deep. It remained painful to the touch, and it sparked sorrowful remembrance. Even now, I tremble to think of it. I really must have broken her heart a thousand times over.

It has been seventeen years since I saw Mary Li. She is still the most extraordinary human I know. You could see her resilience to hardship in her every motion, from her walk to the way she spoke. You could also see her unconditional love and care for others. She was noble. We remained friends till we parted, and I spent those remaining years completely cleaning up my act and showing her what camaraderie looked like. She wanted nothing more than that, except for my success in life. I could not be more grateful to have had a woman like her in my life to teach me how to be resilient. I do not wish for myself or anyone to face the struggles Mary Li had, I only want to pay tribute to her perennial strength and character and hope she inspires them in others like she inspires them in me.