Disneyland After Dark: Sweethearts' Nite — Young Adult Diaries #4

a solo abendanio family adventure — what's a trip without a few bumps in the road?

Welcome back to another Young Adult Diaries!

As January washed over and we entered the new year, I realized that this wasn’t just another year older; it was an entirely new chapter of my life. It is truly the beginning of my young adult years, and I’m not sure what the future holds. That thought is both exciting and terrifying.

Where will I be a year from now? Five years from now? What kind of trips will I take? Who will be a part of my story?

Each of these questions filled me with dread, and I found myself dealing with a lot of anticipatory grief, similar to when I was seventeen.

---

January was also my Mother’s birthday!

In my mind, my mother is forever in her early thirties. But, many years have passed since then, and I’ve learned that while aging is a gift, it also comes with a sense of fear. I found myself wanting to do everything I possibly could to make her birthday memorable, and any of my friends could vouch that I was stringing myself thin. I baked brownies the morning of her birthday, prepared food, and waited until she came home. Additionally, I had schemed with my Auntie Michelle to buy tickets to Disneyland for the special Sweethearts Nite event.

pictures from the hotel!

I am someone who is quick to focus on the negatives while covering up the pessimistic mindset with hopeful sayings. I’m never quite sure if I’m trying to remind those around me or myself above all. I’m also a perfectionist who often feels the need to be in control. And, when things start to spiral out of my control, it becomes upsetting.

I wanted everything to be the way that I imagined.

In my perfect fantasy, Disneyland would be as decorated as I had seen in past pictures and videos, my Auntie would be there to keep my Mom company while I tended to my brother’s want to go on rides, and the food would be good. We’d get to stay in a nice hotel, I’d be able to provide for the trip with the money I was making, and while I couldn’t help with the drive, I could help with other things.

In reality, my Auntie had gotten sick right before the trip. She helped with paying for all the tickets. We had trouble getting into the park, our toilet at the hotel was broken the whole day we were in California, the food and service were incredibly disappointing, and I found myself emotional the entire trip.

I couldn’t place my finger on what was bothering me so much. There were so many things to be happy about. We had made it to California by ourselves—My Mom drove the entire way by herself, something she had never seen herself doing. We had the money to buy a hotel, park tickets, and outfits. We could dine in at a restaurant when in years prior, it would’ve never been something we even imagined, given our financial situation (although the dining-in experience was horrible).

After dissecting the trip with my Mom and a few friends, I realized: I planned this trip around what I always wanted for my family.

Something my Mom said to me the other night stood out to me.

“When I bought furniture for the house, I bought what I had always wanted, without remembering that not everyone is here anymore.”

I was caught up in all the things that I wanted my family to experience. It was like a dream to even propose the idea of going back to Disneyland a year and a half later from our last trip.

Traveling has become bittersweet.

While I do recognize the good things, I can become clouded by the things I’ve lost and the things I will eventually lose one day. While we walked around the park, I couldn’t stop my thoughts from drifting to how I needed to keep my Mom company as much as possible; because when would be the next time we were here together?

“How could that waitress act so crudely during an event? When will be the next time I get to take my Mom to Disneyland?”

“What happened to all the decorations I had seen in the past? Where are all the things I wanted to show off to my Mom? When will be the next time I get to be here with her?”

“I didn’t have enough time with Dad—Dad… Dad… Look at all these couples. What was I thinking taking my Mom to such a couple-targeted event when she’s a widow? How am I here when I’m heartbroken? Why did I take my little brother to something like this when I specifically planned this trip around my Mom and I? When will be the next time I’m here with them?”

“I wish Auntie was here. I wish Dad were here. I wish both my brothers were here. I wish my friends were here. I wish ‘you’ were here. I wish everyone were here.”

I’ve learned that I’m still trying to enjoy life in the absence of those who should be here. Grief hangs itself over my shoulder, prodding at me with its bony fingers and reminding me that life isn’t the same. It finds you on a warm sunny day, no matter how far or fast you try to run. This trip reminded me of that.

So, is that what the next ten years of my life will be? Me constantly losing my mind over things that have yet to happen or losses that have already occurred?

It isn’t a fulfilling way to live, and I much rather appreciate the time that I have—not the time that I feel like I’m missing out on.

If we had to have an honest conversation about the trip itself, and not the thoughts that ran rampant in my mind: Disneyland overall did disappoint me.

My mother and I were first concerned about the lack of awareness of disabled visitors. If your job is to direct people through the parking garage, you should redirect them accordingly when you see someone with a disability placard, regardless of a conversation you may be having.

Additionally, as a granddaughter of a waitress, my Mother expects good service, and she has always expected us to treat servers well. We went to the River Belle Terrace after being misled by the ‘barker’. The man outside promoting the restaurant said they ‘needed more people’ and that they ‘had alcohol and drinks’. Naturally, we decided to dine in but were met with an unwelcoming waitress who seemed irritated that we had even sat down. What we didn't know was that the restaurant was about to close. She handed us the menus, walked away, and when she returned to take our orders, there was no repeat of the order. Any questions asked were met with an eye roll and a short response. When my Mom and brother ordered their steaks, they weren’t asked how they wanted them cooked; instead, it came incredibly bloody, which made me assume that the cooks were getting orders out as quickly as possible. Their steaks were not the only ones to receive comments, as a couple sitting behind us also had a problem with their meal. The waitress was very quick to try and grab the bill before we had a chance to slip our card in and seemed to only ask how the dinner was going out of obligation because of the job, not because she cared about the service. The ‘barker’ walked around smug as if he wanted to irritate his own staff. And while I can understand pettiness in a workplace, your pettiness with coworkers should never come above a customer’s experience.

As someone who works in funeral and has watched my Mother work in the industry for eight years, we deal with people on their worst days. It doesn’t matter if we’ve had a bad day, if a coworker is frustrating us, or if our world is falling apart. Our job is to serve the families and provide them with a fulfilling experience, honor their loved ones, and bring back even just a little bit of peace or joy. While not every job may be held to these same expectations, because I work in it and grew up around it, I will always be disappointed when I’m met with poor service.

Instead of taking customers, it would have been nice to be told the restaurant would be closing soon, rather than being rushed through our meal and dealing with (for lack of better words) shitty service. I can only hope that in the future, these employees have better days.

Thankfully, other employees at the park showed great spirit and made us smile many times while walking around (shoutout to the girl at Pooh Corner who did cosplay gestures with me).

At the end of it all, I was happy to go to Disneyland with my family again. Life is about going through the good and the bad experiences, and no matter which one it ends up being, it’s a memory. A memory that has come to be a laughable one in the past few days, and something that we can talk about.

clips around the park :)

I am in a constant state of learning to live with my grief, treat it as my best friend, nurture it, and sit with it when it starts to become overwhelming. Through it all, I learn new things and gain better perspectives. That is a gift; a blessing.

We accomplished things in the absence of our loved ones, and while that’s a bittersweet thought, I’m so incredibly proud of us. I’m proud of how grief has shaped us. I’m proud of how we grew. I’m proud of how we’ve faced our fears.

Happy Birthday, Mommy. To good and “bad” birthdays, let’s keep making memories.

Love Always,

Lexiss

P.S. will you be my galentine? ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

“Don't you hold on too tight—Both of you know it's your time to go, to fly apart, to reunite… Wonders surround you, just let the walls come down. Don't look behind you, fly till you find your way toward tomorrow.”

— Sebastián Yatra