At sea

Ever have a period of time where it feels like nothing is clicking? One’s up, the other’s down. One’s angry, the other’s happy. One feels slighted, the other feels just as slighted. One tries to make peace, the other ignores. One feels an inequity, the other doesn’t see it. One tries to explain, the other doesn’t hear it or understand. I guess it’s all about perception and it feels like the perception meter can be so out of whack sometimes there’s so much difficulty in finding the equilibrium. And truly, it just leaves me in a place where I’m just tired. Tired of trying to find the equilibrium, tired of trying to be heard, tired of listening without getting upset . . .just tired of everything. It’s not that I want to just toss my hands up and just be away from everyone and everything, but just tired of feeling like everything is MY misperception. It’s not fun feeling stepped on, not fun feeling like what I say doesn’t make sense, not fun feeling as though anyone can behave completely opposite of his or her own expectation of me and expect that I’ll just stand by and say or feel nothing.

It’s truly one of those times when I wish I could just wrap myself in my mother’s arms and have her hold me close. This is a time when I want nothing more than her guidance to help me muddle through. It’s a time when it couldn’t be more obvious to me that I lack that mother-daughter relationship. And not that it was always perfect, because it wasn’t. But when it really mattered, there were times when my mother could listen with an open-mind and help or guide. Or at least posit questions for me to ponder. At a bare minimum, I just want her here.

And this is what sucks about her being dead (can’t tell you how long it took me to type THAT word). I don’t have access to the mother-adult daughter relationship. There was no chance to develop that dynamic and be able to learn from that next stage. It leaves me feeling more at a loss, leaves me feeling more at sea with being a motherless daughter.

Always wear clean underwear

Last night I started reading a book called Things I Want My Daughters to Know by Elizabeth Noble. It's basically about a mother who writes a letter to each 0f her four daughters upon realizing she is running out of time. As I was reading the book, I wondered, if my mother had written me a letter of things she wanted me to know . . . what would she have told me. Would she had given me tips on being married? On being a mother? Maybe tips on how to plan a wedding? I don’t know. Would my mother have reminisced about the past? Would she have shared knowledge with me that she would have found helpful to me as an adult?

Whatever she would or would not have written, I think that I would have liked one last thing from her. Something that was just between me and her. Something that she took time to do that was from her to me. When I was born, or shortly thereafter, my father started a journal for each of his children. When we packed up the family house and he made his way to California, he gave me a small journal. I realized it was his writings over the years. Though he wrote it was from both he and my mother, it was clear who took the time to write entries. I think I saw one entry out of all of them that my mother wrote. But, in the journal, my father wrote of my learning how to talk, walk, count, etc. He described what a pain I was to eat a meal with because I was so slow and picky. I learned a few things about my childhood that, well, are still true today. However, I also know that there are just some things that a father cannot tell or explain to his daughter. There are things that only a mother can tell, share or explain with her daughter. And now, I don’t have that. Ok, so I didn’t exactly take advantage of that when my mother was alive . . . but I guess that is the benefit of hindsight, right?

Seriously, though . . . there are so many unanswered questions for me . . . so many things that my mother won’t be around to help me with. Now, some of those things, sure, I can figure them out on my own. But it definitely would have been nice to have her experience to draw from. But then there are things I think about like what will it be like when I am pregnant? What did being a wife mean to her? What did being a mother mean to her? If there were things she could change or improve, what would they be? What lessons would she want to pass on to me?

There is a reason why there are those who came before us . . . it’s so we can learn from them so that we can at least avoid those mistakes. But most importantly, I know that our parents may also serve as our guides – not just for what we want, but also as what we don’t want, in some cases. Sure there are people in our lives we can draw knowledge and advice from, but it’s not the same. There is no replacement. There is no substitute.

I know for me, I could probably sit down and write a letter to my future child and come up with a few things that I would want him or her to know. I’ve already begun creating a recipe book so that my future child(ren) will have a piece of their mother always. I have jewelry that my mother passed on to me that I want to pass on to my children. And I know that I will do the same as my father, and keep a journal for my children. I want to leave traces of me behind for my children.

So, I can’t help but wonder . . . what things did my mother want me to know?

Home Sweet Home

For having not been with my aunt and uncle for quite a while and a lot of water under the bridge . . . the visit with them this weekend was unbelievable. So much so that I really didn't want to leave. The anticipation of this visit was a bit nerve-wracking . . . in addition to not having seen them in a while, it would also be the first time for my other half to meet some of my extended family. It would not have gone smoother. Upon arrival, my aunt and OH (teehee, "Other Half") started chatting away like old friends. It gave me this warm fuzzy feeling inside. There was the familiar encouragement to OH to keep eating, my cousin's daughters were incredibly cute relaying stories to me about how their father (my cousin) is a "yes man" and Yeh-Yeh (Chinese for father's father) lets them do just about anything (imagine a 70+ year old man with a load of hair product in his hair, eyeshadow, lipstick, rouge . . . the whole works). My aunt talking to my OH to get as good a feel for him as she could. There was never that lull in conversation, there were explanations to my OH for Chinese that was used and there was just fun. 

For not having my mother around, my aunt is the next closest person I have to my mother. So similar in so many ways . . . for her to have a positive reaction to my OH was extremely important. And to begin re-establishing frequent visits is so very important. My aunt, as sweet as she is, is a straight-shooter and when I heard the continunal comments to visit more or even come and stay on the weekend and do what we want during the day and crash at the house is when I knew that OH was part of the family. Not that he wouldn't be part of the family . . . but to have that level of acceptance and openness really made me feel good about my own family. In a situation where I knew there could be room for disappointment, there was absolutely none.

However, this is the one area where my mother and my aunt differed. I recall far too many times where I went to see my mother full of excitement and happiness about something or someone only for her to completely squash that feeling in about T-2 seconds. No joke. But this was different. And I think my aunt knew exactly what I was thinking and feeling. Since my mother's passing, there have been family events where my aunt has seen the meltdown or heard of the meltdown. That I just couldn't see past the fact that my mother wasn't there. And when my aunt flat out told me that she is proud of me and that I found a good man . . . I know that it wasn't just her talking to me, but it was her and my mother. 

I know this time is different. I know that my mother would absolutely have loved my OH. Of course she would have found her own things to nitpick about to me . . . but I know she would have welcomed my OH into the family as warmly and openly as my aunt did this weekend. So, though my mother may not be around anymore, she is in so many ways. For my aunt is a true testament to that. I could see, feel and hear it all. 

While growing up, my mother used "family is family" as an explanation to just about any question I had that was in regard to family matters. At the time, I think I thought she was just being unreasonable . . . why couldn't I just meet up with you all later? Family is family, she would say. Why do I have to go to Taiwan instead of ______? Family is family, she would say. Endless questions from me, the same response from her. And now I understand that sometimes, most times, that is all the explanation that is required. My OH is my family, thus he is their family as well. And for all the little familial acts I saw . . . family is family.

Lincoln Logs

When I went to start today's entry, my thoughts for writing centered around Easter and seeing my aunt (my mother's youngest sister) this weekend. It's been quite a while since I've seen my aunt and this is the first trip to see my aunt that I initiated in some time. I tend to get mixed feelings sometimes when I'm around my mother's side of the family because of my own sadness. So, while I was geared up to write about the upcoming trip, I saw this portion of a post headline: "What stage of the grief and loss process are you . . ." I didn't seen what came underneath. This is the actual post. But, before I saw what came underneath, I clicked on the headline because I, of course, wanted to know what the post was about. Well, turns out it really had nothing to do with grief and loss in terms of death. What it did do was give me a refresher on what the stages of grief and loss are and to think about where I am today. Or at least on most days.

I recall the days when I was early on and struggling through the different stages of grief. And I truly thought I would never make it through. However, reflecting on the past year, the writing that I've been doing and different feelings and experiences I've been having - I'd say that I successfully have moved into the upswing of things. There are different stages of grief, depending upon which model you subscribe to - could be this one or that one; I'm sure there are others. What's important though is that I know where I am in the grand scheme of things and, at the risk of sounding egotistical, I'm pretty proud of my progress and growth. I am at the point where I have accepted my mother's death, though I may not always have ease with saying she's "dead". (Ugh, that kinda made me cringe). And I'm at the point where I'm reorganizing/restructuring my life and moving forward. Believe me, there was a time when I didn't think anything like this would be possible.

So here I am, eight and a half years later, just getting around to acceptance and really moving on with my life. But, quite frankly, it is what it is and I'm here. Better late than never, right? The important thing for me to remember is that I did it in the time that was necessary to feel comfortable with moving forward. I couldn't force a feeling or progress no matter how hard I tried or wanted to. Plus, what's the point in that? I'm only denying myself the actual process. As the old adage goes, "Rome wasn't built in a day." Now, I'm not equating myself with Rome, but no one should deny themselves however long the process takes them to move through the stages of grief. I had an old friend who would tell me that enough time had passed and I need to get over it and move on. Umm, really? Who is to say what enough time is . . . and how do you tell someone whose mother died to get over it? But I digress.

The progress and where I am is allowing me to do so many more things than I have done since my mother passed. Yes, I recognize that eight and a half years is a long time. But, given that my mother was alive for almost 27 years of my life, eight and a half years is a drop in the bucket. Anyhoo . . . so yeah, I'm off to see my aunt this weekend for Easter. I absolutely cannot wait. I am looking forward to spending time with her and my uncle.

Things in my life are starting to fall into place. I believed they would once I could find a way to co-exist with the fact that my mother is no longer with me. And I fully believe that my life is falling into place in a way that would make her so very proud to say that I'm her daughter.

So, this Easter it is all about family for me and my other half. We are starting with my family and then seeing his family. For me, though, this is an important step with the reconstructing process and moving forward. I guess it's also just another form of trailblazing for me . . . and I don't think I mind so much.