From Trauma Came Giving

Beau (photo by Dave Rhine)

My 30-year-old nephew had a surfing accident in Mexico, breaking his back.* He is a phenomenal surfer, and I'd watching him on the waves since he was a little kid. An electrician by trade, his dream of going to Indonesia to work as a surfing guide was dashed by the pandemic. He then spent time budget traveling and surfing in Central America and refurbishing a surf shack in Baja Sur, about an hour north of Cabo San Lucas. As a fellow wanderer who lives part of the year in Mexico and spends the rest traveling, I feel a special affinity to him beyond the familial.

Even though I knew that an infusion of cash could help him out, I was hesitant to start a GoFundMe because of the snide things I’ve heard people say about “grifters” and the stridency of online comment feeds. Who knew what people might say about my nephew’s life? Would they blame him for engaging in a dangerous sport? Would they deride his need for cash given that he lived an alternative, modest lifestyle? But I’d seen GoFundMe’s work well for others, and I’d contributed in the past. Besides, this would be for a young man I loved who was in need, so I posted the request, steeling myself to delete comments that might not be supportive or might offer unwanted advice. Within 24 hours, a number of donations rolled in, as did only heartfelt comments of love and support.

But most striking was this: I realized that many of those who contributed had suffered their own traumas. One of the first donations came from a woman I’d never met. When I asked my husband if he knew her he said, “Yes, from high school. Her own son died by suicide.” My heart thumped in my throat.

nephew and auntie, 30 years ago

And then I realized another donor had also lost a son. I scoured the list: a friend whose parents had died tragically, another who was mourning her husband’s death, a cousin whose young husband suffered for years with kidney disease and finally received a transplant (and was boosted with online contributions), another cousin who was treated for breast cancer—and a woman I’d never met in person but who had reached out to me online years ago after reading my memoir that treats my experience with a brain tumor. She’d shared with me, a stranger, her own youthful medical challenges, and ever since I’d felt a kinship with her.

There were others whose backgrounds I did not know, either because I’d never met them or they’d never shared intimate details about their lives. I thought of the Zen parable of the woman who begged Buddha to bring back to life her dead child. He said he could do so if she brought him a mustard seed from a person who had never had never had a death in the family. Filled with hope, she went house to house…only to discover no one had been untouched by tragedy. She made peace with her pain, knowing that suffering wasn’t personal but was the human condition.

My nephew told me he was surprised by and grateful for all the online kindness directed his way. When I shared with him my thought—that giving and compassion often come from one’s own struggles—he was deeply moved. Since then, we’ve been more in contact than ever, this experience bringing us even closer together. I hope all the love and support is helping him to remain in good spirits as he waits in a back brace for professional advice about the next medical steps he needs to take. And I’m glad to have been reminded of the Internet’s power for good, especially in such divisive times. The next time I see a trainwreck of nasty comments online, I’ll try to remember that not one of those people could hand me a mustard seed.

*UPDATE: I wrote this a few months ago. Fortunately, Beau didn't need surgery and is out of his brace and back on the waves!