“Can I have three eggs, sunny side up, and extra well done home fries please?”
It was the same order I had given hundreds of times at the Circle Diner, sitting with my relatives.
This particular time, I was sitting across from my Grandparents. The silence was deafening and their hurt was palpable. There were long pauses between words. They both were clearly anguished.
“Andrew, tell us AGAIN why you want to move to California?”
My car was packed to the gills, as I glanced out the window of the diner – the car had all of my worldly possessions --- and, it was all worth exactly nothing. There were clothes, golf clubs, and music. That’s pretty much all I remember that was in the car on that day. My car was sitting 30 feet away, and this was my goodbye breakfast with the people that loved me, more than life itself.
My Grandparents could not fathom how any family member of their's (let alone their eldest grandchild) could actually plan to move 3000 miles away, and live in a place that had earthquakes, crazy people, and more earthquakes. (it did not have riots YET, that was after I moved there)
“Grandpa, I know it sounds weird, but I really want to live in San Diego – I think the job market, and the lifestyle is what I want to try while I am young.”
I got a blank stare.
My Grandmother was weepy, and she got up to go to the bathroom.
When my Grandmother had left the table, my grandfather calmly reached into his pocket, and pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills,, he placed them in my hand and said -- “This will help with the gas money for the ride across the country.”
I was relieved. I had a total of $600 of my own money for the trip, plus whatever he just handed me.
But, that moment is forever emblazoned on my psyche. The very moment my grandfather handed me enough money, to take my mind off of the very thing he had just given me. Money.
Suddenly the stress of NOT having enough money was gone. It was replaced by guilt. The guilt of burdening people who loved me. The guilt of leaving.
My Grandmother returned to the table.
“I guess you must get on the road, to start your trip.” As she said this, tears were rolling down her cheeks.
As we walked out of the Circle Diner, I felt as though the money was bulging out of my pocket. The bills were held together by a rubber band – and, I don’t think I ever had that much money in my possession.
As they walked me to my car, guilt overwhelmed me. I was saying goodbye to my Grandparents, and they were struggling to figure out, WHY one of their family members would move so far away, from them.
I drove away from the diner, and onto Rt.130. My grandparents stood at their car, waving as I disappeared amongst the other cars.
I counted the money, and it was $3000. I felt like I could live a year on that much money.
But, having that money made my drive easier. It made the music from my cassette player sound better. It made the entire experience sweeter.
My Grandparents were my first investors. They believed in me. They were both angels, as well as angel investors.
Sometimes, it is important to look back and see who in our lives our, “angel investors” actually are.
Acknowledge them. Thank them if you can. I was inspired to do so.
If you cannot acknowledge them, do something to pass on their good energy and spirit. Do for someone else, what your angel did for you.
It makes the drive easier, and music sweeter on the journey.