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.

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.

Just the tip of the iceberg . . .

Last weekend, my other half and I were just chatting away when stories of our travels came up. While we were talking, I lowered my head in some sort of reverie as I started to remember trips that I took with my mother. There are so many remarkable trips we took together both within and outside the country.

The first time I recall travelling alone with my mother was to go to Taiwan with her to see my grandmother. I think I was about seven or eight at the time. Now, being the serious "daddy's little girl" that I was at the time (and probably still am to some degree), leaving for a month just wasn't high on my list of things to do. But, my mother being ever so wily and smart was definitely in tune with her daughter that summer. Truth be told, my mother bribed me. She bribed me with the ultimate bribe, at the time for a seven year old girl. My mother promised me that if I went with her, I could get my ears pierced while we were in Taiwan. This is significant because there was an age requirement imposed by my parents (ok, my mother) in order for me to get my ears pierced. So, you can see how easy it was for me to be convinced to go to Taiwan.

The unfortunate thing is that this trip wasn't just full of fun and excitement. In fact, I think what happened early on in the trip remained and evolved into a deep-rooted issue. Our journey to Taiwan would be long and involved plane changes, etc. In fact, one of our layovers was overnight (yay! I loved staying in hotels as a child. Wait, I still love hotel visits!). I remember my mother putting me on a bus. No, I did not know at the time that this was a shuttle to go to the hotel. She said that she would be right back. Well, she didn't come back quick enough for I saw the doors to the bus close and we were pulling away from the doors that my mother was supposed to exit. I think I was too frightened and unsure of what was going on at the time that I didn't know what to do - yell, cry, scream for my mother. I just sat there looking back and started to cry . . . silently. When we got to I now know was the hotel, I was in shellshock, crying, hysterical not knowing why I was there without my mother. Why my mother left me . . . all by myself. I didn't know why she wasn't with me, why she didn't want to be with me. Yes, these were all things I remember thinking while strangers were talking to me asking me if I was lost, where was my mommy or daddy . . . Yeah, like I could speak coherently through the violent sobs coming from my seven year old body.

Rest assured, my mother showed up and held me so close and tight and said sorry over and over and over. But I know that a small part of me never recovered from that sense of abandonment. From that feeling that my mother didn't want me. Clearly the part of my mother not wanting me is untrue and just a reaction from me as a child. But the feeling . . . I still sometimes struggle with that as an adult. That those around me will one day just vanish. Disappear. Now, it wouldn't be so bad if it was just an incident that happened with my mother. But, as it would turn out when I was nine years old, there would be a life-altering event as a result of my father, that would leave me with abandonment issues.

Now, I've wrestled those demons, for the most part, and have overcome those fears. But, there are still small moments when I feel as though the rug will be pulled out from under me. I try and keep those in check and realize that those who love me would never intentionally do such a thing. Just don't inadvertently let me lose track of you in a huge crowd. That is unless you want to see a grown woman have a panic attack.

And rest assured, that was just an isolated incident in my travels with my mother. Most of our trips together were fun and shopping filled. More to come.

What's in a name

Ma.
Mommy.
Momma.
Mom.
Mother.

So many ways in which we address our mother. Clearly, I have not used any of those titles since September 11, 2000.

Earlier in my present relationship, the choices were pretty simple as to how I would address my other half's parents - Mr and Mrs or first names. I still hesitated with that because his parents and I never really had a conversation about how I would address them. I'll never know whether it just didn't bother them or they didn't find the need to bring it up in conversation, but I don't recall ever hearing about the fact that I didn't call them anything. In fact, it was my other half who would tease me every now and then about the fact that I wasn't really calling them anything.

So now, for just shy of six months, I've been struggling with how to address my other half's folks. My other half has brought it up more than once, his mother has jokingly brought it up ("You have to call me something!?") and his father and I have talked about it twice. I told my other half that I just don't know what I feel comfortable with. I laughed when his mother made her passing comment/joke. And with his father, I expressed a little about how I wasn't sure what to call them, and he said to just use what felt comfortable - first names, Mom/Dad, whatever.

It's understandable, to everyone, as to why I have difficulty with the use of a maternal address. I saw it as a betrayal to my mother to address someone else with a maternal address because she isn't here to give her opinion or thoughts. And, really, I just didn't know how to reconcile that in my mind. Also, I have never seen my mother address anyone other than her own mother with a maternal address. Then again, I never saw her interact with my father's stepmother. Ever.

I struggled with the paternal address, because, well, my father is still alive. I don't want to hurt his feelings or insult him by using a father-like term for someone else. So, you see . . . I was in quite a predicament.

But, then I thought about it and had a breakthrough this past weekend - Mom and Pop. When my mother was alive, I usually called her Ma. And Pop works because I've never addressed my father directly or indirectly as Pop. So, these two addresses are, in fact, unique to my other half's parents and for me as well. It doesn't insult my own parents and after trying it out this weekend, it feels natural. Pop definitely felt comfortable and lo and behold, when I used Mom, I wasn't struck by lightning or something overly-exaggerated that I thought would happen. And to see the reaction from both of them . . . I knew I made the right decision.

I am grateful and appreciative that my other half, his mother and father handled and approached the predicament I was in with humor, compassion and patience. And, to be honest, I don't think my mother would feel betrayed by my decision or the slightest bit dismayed. In fact, I know she would be smiling knowing how deliberate I was with my decision with regard to my other half's parents . . . a decision that may have been taken lighter were I not my mother's daughter.

Hold my hand?

Today was a monumental day. As I've mentioned before, there is a history of breast cancer on my mother's side of the family: my mother and her two sisters. My mother had a tumor removed, the middle sister had chemotherapy and radiation and the youngest had a lumpectomy. Upon hearing this and the fact that I had not had a screening yet . . . my doctor immediately wrote me a prescription to have a mammogram. It seems that the age for routine mammograms to begin is forty. HOWEVER, having a family history of breast cancer bumps up that inital mammogram from forty to thirty-five. I'm thirty six. Yeah, my doctor wanted a mammogram sooner rather than later.

Admittedly, this is something that I have put off for quite some time because I just didn't want to address the matter. My mother died of cancer . . . lung cancer that everyone suspects originated with the tumor in her breast. My two aunts have had to deal with cancer, though (thank heavens) they are still alive. I was so affected by this appointment that last night I was sobbing in bed saying I didn't want to have cancer. That I was just so nervous. My other half was so sweet that he even offered to come along. I said no because I knew this was, again, one of those things that I had to do on my own.

When I got to the medical center, the emotions started. Or at least they tried. I could barely speak above a whisper when I was registering. And the entire time I was on the radiation floor, I was on the verge of crying. I guess the tech sensed just how nervous I was and she was incredibly patient and nice while I was going through the procedure. But all I could think of was my mother doing the very same thing that I was doing. And then learning that she had breast cancer. I don't want to be her. I don't want what happened to her to happen to me. Truth be told, I feel awful for saying that. I feel guilty for even thinking that.

Now that the day has passed and I've had a little time to think, I am relieved that I finally overcame my fear and went to have this done. Ok, so I had a lot of help from my other half to get there . . . but I did it. We are both relieved. At least we'll know where things stand for me, in that respect. Nothing worse than an unpleasant surprise that could have been prevented. While I feel relieved, though, I realize it's just another one of those things for me that I wish my mother had been here to guide me through this one. It makes me miss her even more.

But I really do want to

This past weekend, my other half and I went to his cousin's wedding. It was wonderful to see his family and participate in such a wonderful event. At the reception, though, for about ten minutes, the family blues were written all over my face. For a split second, all I wanted to do was drive to my aunt's house and just cry. I thank my other half as he sensed it immediately and we went outside so I could compose myself. Then, he again posed to me that if I don't think I can look at our upcoming event with happiness and joy, then we do not need to have some big event. Part of me wanted to be upset at him because, really, I only got emotional for a brief period of time. But, the other, more rational part of me, said nothing of that nature because he's really only trying to protect me and have us do what would make me happy.

I know that I have brought this up before, but . . . the truth of the matter is that I truly do want to have a wedding where our families can get together and celebrate. It won't be some over the top affair, but something nice for everyone. And, quite honestly, I don't think my mother would want me to not do something like not have a wedding because of my moments of sadness and missing her. She was never one for letting her emotions run her in that manner. I know this, among many other big events in my life to come, is just another lesson for me to learn from. Another lesson to draw from the strength she has passed on to me to continue putting one foot in front of the other. Another opportunity to do her proud.

In the end, I think I will regret the things I don't do because of the thought of going through those times without my mother. I mean, seriously . . . am I not going to have kids because my mother isn't here? I think not. Am I not going to take a promotion at work (which happened recently) because she isn't here to rejoice with me? Nah. So, why wouldn't I have a wedding? It's something I so want to do. Yes, I get sad. A little emotional. But it doesn't mean that I can't do the wedding and do it well. I'm sure I'll be a tad emotional on that day. I'm sure her presence by many will be missed. I think to do it is more a statement of moving forward than not. In fact, I'd probably hear her yelling at me from above if I chose not to do it simply because I miss her and, well, because I want my mommy to be here through the planning process and on the day of. What daughter wouldn't want her mother on her wedding day?

The truth of the matter is that she isn't here and I have to continually remember to accept that fact. And then recognize that there are strong, good women in my life. In her absence, I am starting to learn, if I allow it, there are others who are willing to guide, advise and support me as I continue to move forward.

Ta da!

So, this past weekend was Mother's Day. And, well, I think I pulled it off with more grace than I have since my mother passed away.

I spent the first part of the day running around going to the market to make sure there was food in the house for this upcoming week. While I was at the market, there were quite a few mother/daughter combinations as the Race for the Cure walk had just ended. And rather than look at them with resentment and bitterness, seeing them made me smile. I can't exactly explain the reason . . . all I know is that it filled me with joy to see these women embracing each other and their families. I hope that one day I'll know what it is like to embrace the mother-child relationship.

The next part of my day was spent with my other half's family. And, let me just say that it was not chock full of me being angry at the world. Yay! There was a little bit of weirdness and difficulty for me. And I think I was only overcome with emotion twice . . . which I was able to quickly nip in the bud. I also credit the other half for comforting me, but not making a huge deal about the fact that it's Mother's Day and I'm vulnerable to moments of weakness. It wasn't a day full of "are you ok?" or other questions to remind me that I stood in that house motherless.

The last part of my day was spent talking with my other half about how I felt throughout the day. And, yes, there were some tears shed for a period of time - not too long. But, long enough. It was different this time, though. The tears weren't angry tears. They weren't bitter tears. Rather, they were just tears of missing my mother. That's it. I've come to such a peaceful place in my life that I miss my mother so incredibly because I think she would be so happy and proud. She would see that I have finally put the pieces together and the picture is quite beautiful and fulfilling. It's these moments of growth and accomplishment that leave me in that place of just missing my mother and having her here to share in my growth.

It only took me just shy of ten years to get to this point. But, the rewards and happiness that I feel when I think of my mother, I can say was well worth the wait.

I miss her, though. Incredibly.

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.