Our turn

Thanksgiving.
Christmas.
New Years.
The holidays . . . they’re back.

Thanksgiving had its rocky moments, but all in all – it was a good holiday spent with family. And the family that I have inherited through my other half is truly a comforting family to have and to be with on the holidays.

Christmas is fast approaching and there is so much to be done. But what I’m most happy about is that my other half and I will be starting a first that will hopefully turn into a tradition for our family. His parents and grandmother will be sharing Christmas Day with us in our home. We are in the final “oh sh*t this has to be done” stage to have our home prepared and ready for our first hosted Christmas. Hopefully as each Christmas passes there will less of this panicked feeling in making sure our home is ready for the holidays, Christmas especially.

When we last saw my aunt, we were talking about holiday traditions. In my extended family, all the kids/cousins go to my aunt’s house for Thanksgiving and then there is the traditional kick the kids out of the house movie after dinner. Though I haven’t spent Thanksgiving with my extended family in a few years, I hear the movie tradition is still alive. My aunt explained that Thanksgiving is the only holiday in which she requires all of her kids to be home, and by extension extended family tries to be there as well. As this is how we all spent Thanksgiving when we were younger. Together. One big happy family. So, we told her that we were hoping to start a tradition of my other half’s parents, and hopefully his sister’s family (though she is married with her own set of in laws, etc.) some day, being in our home for Christmas Day. My aunt smiled and said that we, as the younger generation, should be taking the responsibility of holidays as well as starting our own traditions for when we have children. Or at least to keep the younger generation together. And I know this is definitely something I know my mother would want to see happen in my own family.

So, now, as matriarch of my own family, the Christmas decorations are starting to be put up so there are signs of Christmas in our home. Our front door is gift-wrapped and covered with bows, our windows have Christmas decorations on them. Soon, Christmas cards will be purchased, filled in and mailed and presents will be purchased and hidden. As I approach this Christmas with some different energy and perspective, there still remains a piece of me that is melancholy and disconnected. But seeing family, no matter whose family, often helps to fill the void. And hopefully one day, the void will no longer be present because I will have come full circle in knowing that no matter the day, the holiday, I am blessed everyday with a strong-willed mother as my guardian angel. And really, that is the best gift. Ever.

What a Beautiful Day

Yesterday marked nine years since my mother's passing. And for the first time, the day was like none other. It marked a slight change - my other half and I were with my family. We went to my aunt's house (my mom's youngest sister) on Saturday - some of my cousins were there and my uncle (my mom's youngest brother) and his family joined in on the dinner fun as well. The evening was just fun-filled with family and love. A big, huge bubble of safeness and comfort. We closed out the night with two games of Scrabble - my aunt, my other half and me. Now, just so you know, my mother was the reigning queen of Scrabble - no one could beat her. She may have been overthrown once or twice. Apparently, I am channeling my mother in that arena.

Sunday, we woke up to great conversation with my aunt and uncle, then off to church where my cousin and his family met us along with my uncle. Then we spent the rest of the time before coming home, with my aunt. And I couldn't think of a better place to have been. It was great to just relax and take in the day and see my other half interact with my family. It was great to be in a place where I feel so safe and comforted . . . surrounded by love. And to be able to be with family and be able to talk about my mother - that's what I needed. Everyone knew what yesterday. But no words needed to be said. At least not many. There were simple looks, hugs of acknolwedgement and words of encouragement and love. And for what my aunt said to me, I'll be forever grateful - that it is okay to move on and that my mother is watching over us. She would be happy with how far I have come in life and the man that I am blessed to be with.

It was difficult to leave. Being with my aunt feels like home. But I know we'll be back there soon enough. There was a shred of sadness when my other half and I back to our home. It was at the end of the night after we'd had our Sunday dinner together and the house was full of our favorite aromas - Sunday sauce (well, bolognese sauce this Sunday). I just needed to allow myself the emotion, which is difficult sometimes.

I miss my mom everyday. After spending the time this anniversary with my aunt, I see the flipside in that those who have gone before us aren't really gone, they are with us. I understand those words, but admittedly, I'm not quite there yet. But, I guess it is okay to keep moving forward. I know it's what she would have wanted.

Tellin it like it is. I think.

Anger. It has such power over the person who is consumed with this emotion. It can take hold and remain for a short period of time or it can linger in a person for years at a time. If we're not careful, it may evolve into a way of life, seep into our mannerisms . . . Since my mother's passing, I have had to deal with this particular emotion in many ways. I've directed it at undeserved people, I've internalized it for days/weeks/months, I've been undeserved receiver.

As the nine year mark approaches, I decided to confront the anger issue head on with regard to my father. This has been an incredibly difficult year in which he has had to adjust to many changes. And, along the way, his decision has been to strike out in anger towards me (and sometimes my other half) at times of his choosing. My father has a tendency of not hearing me, literally, or he chooses to ignore the words that I choose so carefully to say, especially with respect to the matter of my mother. So, I turned to the only other medium I could and wrote (well, typed) him an email expressing how I felt.

My bottom line message to my father was that his choosing to treat me with anger as he chooses is just unacceptable, that he does not act in accordance with the words that he says, that he knowingly sets people up for his manipulation, that he cannot make choices and then lash out in anger towards others because of the choices he makes. That he consistently states that we are family and should act as such, however he is incredibly guilty of not acting like he is part of a family.

It may not have been the most love-oozing letter to my father, but it was not intended that way. It was intended to express to him that I will not be his fall guy, so to speak, anymore for his anger. That I will not allow him to ignore questions, withhold information then act in anger accusing me that I do not care about his well-being. That I will not accept responsibility for his decisions that he later wants to be upset about. That it is his choice to not join my other half, myself and my other half's family for Thanksgiving, despite numerous invitations, and he lost his right to be angry thinking that no one wants to spend Thanksgiving with him.

This all came out in an effort to elicit particular important information regarding an upcoming event with respect to my father. Despite repeated requests for further details, including my long email this morning, he still refuses to divulge specific details. Rather I get the vaguest of information. Why I did this I have no idea. Oh yeah, it is so that he recognizes that I will not accept his behavior. And to have it in black and white that he was asked about certain things numerous times. It seems like that should be unnecessary, but it is given that he has an interesting way of recollecting things in which he is consistently right, even though he completely twists, inserts, omits, etc. words.

Don't get me wrong, I love my father. He's my father. And I understand that a part of him insists on remaining angry because my mother is no longer with us. There are days, sometimes continuous days, in which I am flat out angry. There are days when I direct that anger towards underserving folks. As much as I can, I try to keep myself in check and explain my disposition and apologize. My father . . . he is unable to do this. I understand he is my father. But, as a human being and as a daughter, I am entitled to some respect and consideration.

So, I told it how I see it. How I feel. And . . . as usual . . . I felt about this small because (1) my father again ignored my request for detailed information and (2) said nothing else with respect to my thought out letter.

Honestly, I don't know why I'm surprised or the slightest disappointed.

Lost.

That is simply how I feel.

It succinctly describes where I am.

My family, what's left of my family seems lost, unable to come together and be a family. My brother and his wife (and my soon to be niece) in another country. My father across the country. One unable to travel for the upcoming holiday season. The other unwilling to travel for the upcoming holiday season.

The last one remaining in the place where my mother passed. Disconnected from those who also deeply mourn the loss.

It is a difficult place - lost. Indescribable in words. Generally not shared. But causes waves around those I love the most.

All I can say is, I'm sorry. It'll pass. I'll work through it. But, for now, I'm sorry.

Polar Opposites

A grounding, centering weekend describes this past weekend. It was a family filled weekend. And being with everyone reminded me just how important family has become to me in spite of the fact that I think my own immediate family has forgotten how to be a cohesive one.

Let me explain . . . my other half’s family and my mother’s side of the family give you the warm fuzzies and loved feeling. Then, there’s my father who seems to be incapable of being anywhere close to warm fuzzy or even sincere at times. It’s unbelievable to me that I am a product of my mother and father when I cannot even understand the things my father does or says of late.

This weekend was the second visit we had with my aunt and uncle. The drive was slow, the weather was horrible and we were late. But that didn’t change the demeanor in her house once we arrived. My aunt, uncle, my cousin along with his wife and two daughters welcomed us in with open arms (and hungry stomachs). We chatted away the night over good food and dessert (it was my cousin’s b-day) and enjoyed just being with family. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

And this is where I realized I am home when I’m with them. At various points during dinner, my aunt (my mother’s youngest sister) and I talked about the wedding. And she said to me that one of her gifts to me was to take me to get my qi pao (traditional Chinese dress). She knew that my cousin had offered for me to wear hers as the “something borrowed”, but my aunt wanted otherwise saying to me that since my mother isn’t here, she wants to take care of that aspect of the wedding attire. Then, she told me that she would host my bridal shower for me in NY (which is great because most of the families live in NY). And right then is when I lost it, I am crying at the dinner table because I really did not expect my family to rally around. Though I’m not sure why given that it is a wedding and my mother is not here.

The next day, I realized that my aunt and uncle are the ones who define my family. They are the ones who you can see I learned everything from (how could it not be? I mean, my aunt and mother were sisters). All signs lead to them when you want to have that “home” feeling. They are good people with such incredibly positive energy. There is no way you would ever doubt their words. Then, there’s my father. And, in fact, we spoke of my father while at breakfast with them on Sunday because of everything that has been happening (I don’t even know how to explain his conduct of late). While we were talking I felt relief because in their own way, both indirect and direct, they were letting my other half to not take anything personally and that really, the problem lies in my father and no one else. And through other means, the bottom line that was shared with us was to make sure that we take care of ourselves and not really worry too much about.

After leaving my aunt’s, with a heavy heart, I realized that I come from two totally different worlds now. And I identify and feel more comfortable with my mother’s side of the family than I do with my own father. On one hand, there is warmth, love and positivity. On the other hand, there is anguish, anger and manipulation. I am filled with such happiness when I am with my aunt, cousins, etc. And when I’m with my father, I’m filled with trepidation, frustration and I cry. A lot.

Some days I wonder just how will this all resolve itself because I cannot continue to have such toxicity when it comes to my father.

Confusion Ensues

It's no secret that November 22 will mark yet another year since my mother passed away. And each year, I am met with such unpredictability as to how my mood will swing in addition to how it will affect those in my family.

This year, I am a little more melancholy and missing my mother even more than before. However, I can see why given that I'm preparing for my wedding in June, my brother and his wife are expecting a baby girl in January . . . a lot of family things going on, things that my mother should be witnessing but isn't.

What leaves me at a loss for words and feeling even more confused and melancholy is the way my father reacted when my other half and I invited him to stay for Thanksgiving. He says that he'd rather stay where he is and not travel. He argues that he doesn't like having to clear a potential visit with us before making arrangements (clearly not thinking about the fact that both my other half and I work and have other things going on that a visit from anyone would require discussion in advance). He takes statements I've made and either blows them out of proportion or twists them around to sound like something he can be upset about. Then he proceeds to manipulate me by saying whatever he chooses to say to elicit guilt and unrest on my end. And as much as I say it doesn't bother me, I won't let him get to me . . . it does bother me, he does get to me. My brother says cut our father some slack . . . he's old and doesn't think straight or clearly at times. I agree with his statement, however I know just how much my father crosses the line and disrespects my boundaries. Basically, he acts as though it is completely inappropriate for me to have any boundaries. At. All. What leaves me more melancholy is the fact that my father will not put his own discomfort or imagined grudge aside for Thanksgiving. In the years following my mother's death, my father and I have always been together on Thanksgiving. I feel abandoned, cast aside.

Just when I feel like the three of us are moving ahead, it's as though we move farther apart. It's as though we no longer know how to function as a family without my mother. It's just anger and many unspoken words.

Where Does the Time Go?

Nine years. It will be nine years this November 22 since my mother's death. And I can't believe just how surreal, difficult and painful it can still be.

So many things have happened since that time . . . my brother moved to Shanghai, I went to law school, my brother got married, my father moved to California, I graduated from law school and am now practicing, my brother and his wife are expecting a baby girl in January and my other half and I are having our church wedding in June. To me, though, each of these things don't feel entirely right because of a missing presence.

There's always this double-edged feeling that comes with my happiness and enjoyment at certain moments. I'm thrilled to be planning the wedding . . . but I am a little sad because I never thought that my mother wouldn't be there to help. I'm excited to become a mother . . . but I won't have the benefit of my mother's help. It's not that I haven't developed relationships with my other half's mother and other women . . . but some days it just isn't the same, doesn't feel right and some days I'm just downright bitter. I think about all the people in my life who I would have loved my mother to meet . . . most importantly, my other half. But, she's not here.

I know there will be those who say that she knows, she sees all. And while I believe that as well, it doesn't take away from the reality of the situation - she isn't here. There is no physical presence. And it has been ten years of this. And the fact of the matter is simple - I miss her. I want her here.

Clearly I'm just rambling here, thoughts just being tossed out of my head. Some days it is like that. I try and say something so coherently, but it just doesn't work out that way. I mean, in what other ways can I say something as simple and true as I miss my mother?

Ok . . . maybe I'm still a little angry. But that's for another day.