The Longest Synchronicity
In Memory of Three Beautiful Souls
In Honor of Two Wonderful and Resilient Families
Nov. 15, 2023
“Synchronicity: A meaningful coincidence of two or more events where something other than the probability of chance is involved.” - Carl Jung
I got my driver’s license in the spring of my junior year in high school, just in time for summer. I remember leaving school to take my driving test, having the instructor drop me off at home after I passed, and driving my ’89 VW Jetta back to school. It was a warm sunny day, and I was psyched to finally feel that sense of independence.
Every summer, about three towns away and right on the ocean, there would be a dance at the wharf, and now that I had my license, I could drive myself there. These dances were a great place for teens to hang out and be teens. I made a few friends, many of them girls (which means I made one or two enemies, as well). There was this one group of cute girls I met and kept in touch with after the summer. After talking on the phone for a while, I started dating one of them. I was a senior, she was a sophomore. We lived in different towns about 20 minutes apart, and went to different high schools.
Things were great for a while. Then I went to college.
See, I never really went to parties in high school. Honestly, I was never really invited. I wasn’t exactly popular. Don’t get me wrong, I had a few great friends, but I never had the opportunity to partake in the party culture. Until, that is, my first weekend away at college when I attended my first real party where there was alcohol.
(I’m not going to say I got drunk, but I got DRUNK.)
Next thing I know, I was dancing with a girl, and then we kissed. That’s it: just a kiss. One stupid kiss. Nothing happened after that because I stopped the kissing right away and asked her to step into the hallway to talk where I told her I had a girlfriend. Her response? “No man of mine is going to date anyone else.” I had to laugh: We’d JUST met, and already I was “her man?” Well, I said sorry, and walked away as politely as I could.
The problem is that I’m honest to a fault. I was wracked with guilt. I can’t remember if it was that night or the next day, but the next time I spoke with my girlfriend I told her what happened. Of course she was heartbroken, and I felt horrible. Looking back, it’s funny to think how dramatic this all was. Now, at the ripe old age of 47 and even though I have two teenage daughters, it’s easy to forget that teenage emotions are a bitch. I can’t remember if we stayed together or broke up and got back together shortly after. Either way, our relationship was never the same. I violated a sacred trust.
We continued to date through my sophomore year and then she graduated. But not before getting accepted to the same college as me … which she wound up attending. By the time she got there, our relationship was toxic. As time went on, she met a guy in her class and wound up hooking up with him — and it was a lot more than a stupid kiss. Regardless, I didn’t take it well. We argued A LOT, and I was ready to call it quits.
What she didn’t know was that when things became toxic with us, I developed a crush on one of her friends: a beautiful angel named Kristen. When I finally mustered the courage to break up with my girlfriend, I also found the courage to finally ask Kristen out.
Kristen was attending a local college and still lived at home, so when I called, it wasn’t at all surprising that her mother answered. I asked if Kristen was there. Her mom immediately gave the phone to Kristen’s brother who was very upset and asked me if this was some kind of joke. I was so confused. When I asked what he meant, he told me that Kristen had just died in a car accident. I was speechless and devastated. I went from having a crush to having a crushed heart. Kristen passed away on Nov. 15, 1996.
One Fateful Christmas
"When coincidences pile up in this way, one cannot help being impressed by them – for the greater the number of terms in such a series, or the more unusual its character, the more improbable it becomes.” - Carl Jung
Fast forward to 2001 when I had finally met the love of my life on JDate.com. We talked for a while, and were two ships passing in the night until we eventually went on our first date on April 13, 2002. On June 17, 2003 I proposed, and we were married in New Jersey on October 9, 2004. We bought a cute little house and settled down in a quaint New England town about 90 miles north of where I grew up, and where we she gave birth to our two beautiful little girls (she actually gave birth at MGH, but you know what I mean).
Then on Christmas 2010, we did what many good Jewish-American families traditionally do at Christmas: we all went out for Chinese food for dinner as we had done each year prior. After we sat down, my wife noticed a speech therapist she used to work with was at the same restaurant with her husband and two kids. We got up to say hi so she could introduce us, and we hung out for a bit and talked as new acquaintances do.
What do you do?
Where are you from originally?
How old are your kids?
We hit it off pretty well.
Now, as any parent with babies will tell you, it’s not easy to make new friends in a town you didn’t grow up in. But on the ride home, we talked about how nice they are and agreed that we should see if they would like to hang out some time as humans that aren’t disheveled parents (aka: without kids).
Before we got the chance to make those plans, fate intervened. I was walking to the store a week or two later and slipped on the ice. Already having a messed up back and neck from a car accident 10 years prior, I knew immediately that I needed a chiropractor (my neck was — hmmm…what’s the medical term for it? — oh yes: f***ed up). So, I called my chiropractor from 10 years ago. Unfortunately for me but fortunately for her patients, she decided to focus her practice on pregnant moms and children. I was obviously neither of those, so I had to find someone new. That was when my wife reminded me that her friend’s husband — the one we met on Christmas — is a chiropractor. What a perfect coincidence! I called his office and made an appointment.
During my appointment, he told me that he and his wife had a similar conversation that evening and would love to hang out sometime. Our families became fast friends, and I became a regular patient.
At each appointment over the next 8 or 9 months, I would make small talk with his secretary as I waited in the waiting room. And at each appointment, she and I learned a little more about each other and became friends in real life as well as on Facebook. At one appointment we talked about our families —me, married with two daughters; her, married with two sons — and about how she’d always wanted a daughter. At another appointment we talked about where we grew up … both in small towns by the ocean, but about five towns apart. At another appointment, she was telling me about her mom who has Lupus. “Seriously?” I said, “My mom has Lupus!”
Then one day I was scrolling through my Facebook feed and caught a picture she posted. It was a memorial gift to the local YMCA in Kristen’s honor. My heart fell into my stomach. I immediately messaged her.
“You know Kristen?” I asked and proceeded to tell her a little bit of the story.
Then it hit me.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Are you her sister?”
The funny thing is, I never knew my new secretary friend’s maiden name, but if I had, I would’ve realized much earlier that she was indeed Kristen’s younger sister.
To this day, I can’t get over the synchronicity of it all…all the events that needed to happen for Kristen’s sister and I to meet so many years later:
My wife was born and raised in New Jersey but moved to Boston to go to college.
We met on JDate and talked on and off and dated other people for a year or so before going on our first date.
She originally wanted to be a doctor, and then decided to go become a Speech-Language Pathologist.
As an SLP, she met our friend, Jodi, through work.
Jodi, as it so happened, lived next door to my cousins out in western Massachusetts.
I got into a car accident in 2000 that screwed up my back and neck forever, and resulted in my needing a chiropractor.
We met Jodi and her family at the Chinese restaurant and became friends.
I slipped and fell shortly after, and happened to need a chiropractor, so I called Jodi’s husband.
And I can’t even begin to imagine all the possible things that aligned for Kristen’s sister to then meet her husband, move to a town near us, and get a job working for Jodi’s husband. Nor can I imagine the millions of other events— every minute of every day that — that had to happen around the world in just the right order to bring this whole synchronicity to life.
To Those We’ve Lost Along The Way…
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
- Hamlet by William Shakespeare
Time continued to march on, and life was pretty good. We formed a core group of friends. Jodi and her husband had another baby and bought a new house. Kristen’s sister gave birth to the daughter she always wanted.
And over the years that followed, I could never shake the feeling that there was more meaning and depth behind meeting Kristen’s sister in Jan. 2011.
Was it just to know that something else is out there? Was it just wild coincidence?
Then, one morning, the unimaginable happened. On Sept. 5, 2016 Jodi had a stroke. She fought so hard and bravely over the next week, but eventually succumbed and passed away on Sept. 12, leaving behind her amazing husband and three young, beautiful children. Our whole community rallied around Jodi’s husband and kids, as well as her parents and siblings. But we were all lost…each of us sadly shuffling behind one another, picking up each other’s broken pieces, and gently holding onto them for whenever we needed them back.
Like everything that breaks, even if you glue it back together, it’s never quite the same, and nobody was the same after this, least of all Jodi’s husband and kids. Their road hasn’t been easy — that’s their story to tell, but to this day and forevermore, their family is our family and our family is theirs.
Sept. 12. September f***ing twelfth. As if all the other pieces of this synchronicity weren’t enough, Sept. 12 is my dad’s birthday. He passed away in 1998.
Every year, on certain days, my depression drags me down into a deep, dark hole and Sept. 12 is one of those days. This year, on Sept. 12, I dragged myself out of bed and checked my work email. I had a calendar invite from my VP - “Mandatory Meeting.” “That’s it,” I thought, “it will be one of two things … that promotion I’ve been waiting for, or the exact opposite.” I accepted the invite, showered, shaved, gave myself a fresh buzz cut to neaten up my mostly bald head, and got dressed in nice pair of dress pants, a button-down shirt, and a blazer. When I joined the call, I knew instantly. After 18 years at the same company, I was laid off on Sept. 12, 2023.
At face value, this may sound like the shittiest string of synchronicities of all time. But I assure you it’s not. To me, it’s incredibly inspirational and reassuring. Here's the thing...
When I found out about Kristen’s passing, I was heartbroken.
When I found out about Kristen’s sister, I was dumbfounded.
When Jodi passed, I was devastated but wondered if the connection between Kristen’s sister and Jodi’s husband was a way of letting us know that they were both still with us.
When I lost my job, instead of feeling defeated, I felt a little like Luke Skywalker in Return of the Jedi. Except instead of seeing the ghosts of three Jedi masters, I felt the presence of three incredibly special people in my heart — my dad, Kristen, and Jodi — as if it happened purposefully on this day to tell me things will be ok.
Last year we celebrated the Bar Mitzvah of Jodi’s oldest son. This weekend, almost 27 years to the day since Kristen departed this earth, we will celebrate as Jodi’s daughter is called to the Torah as a Bat Mitzvah.
Three families interwoven across time, tragedy, and faith. One strand is Kristen’s family, another is Jodi’s; and our family to bind the braid together.
To Kristen’s family, know that your beautiful angel lives on in the hearts of so many who will never forget her.
To Jodi’s kids, know how much your mommy loves you and always will. If you’re not sure if she’s with you, close your eyes and picture her wrapping her arms around you. I promise you will feel her love and hugs.
To Jodi’s husband, you are a dear friend and brother, and we are always here to support you. I hope this story brings you the same comfort it brings me, knowing that though the universe can sometimes deal us cruel twists of fate, it can also bring us together in the most unexpected and meaningful ways.
And to you, dear reader, I’ll end this story with a toast I wrote 20 years ago for a friend’s wedding:
“To those we’ve lost along the way,
And to those we’re glad we found.
You touch us each and every day,
And make our world go ‘round.
Your spirit lives within our hearts,
In everything we do.
So for those who can’t be with us now,
We raise our glass to you.”
We love you dearly, miss you terribly, and feel your presence deeply. Always.
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