Grass roots

I guess you could say it was a partial explanation I received. A few years ago when I was completing some paperwork, I guess you could say it was the first time that it actually “hit” me that I was not born in the United States. My passport states I was born in China. I have the certificate demonstrating that I am, indeed, a naturalized citizen. Hmmm . . . then, I seem to recall asking my father if he knew that I wasn’t born in the United States. Um, dumb. Seriously, like my father wouldn’t know where I was born. I crack myself up. 

Anyway, so I finally remember to ask my father the other day about the circumstances surrounding my birth. For, again, when I was talking with my dear other half, I had no explanation to give him when he asked why I wasn’t born in the US. God Bless my father, he’s 80+ years old, and so I am lucky that he’s still around and that his memory is still intact. HOWEVER, here’s the explanation I received, in revised English: When my mother carried me, she had to go to Taiwan when my grandmother needed her. And so she went to Taipei where I was born.

I have soooo many more questions – I thought I would get a little more detail than what my father conveyed. Why did my grandmother need my mother? My dad didn’t even tell me whether he was in Taiwan when I was born. So, I have turned my search to my aunt, my mother’s youngest sister, in the hopes that maybe she has more details to share. 

Here is where the continuum that I’ve thought about before arises . . . my mother isn’t here to convey the details. And now, my grandmother is no longer her to fill in the blanks. My father isn’t exactly the king of details, as demonstrated above. There are only a few who remain who can fill in the blanks. Hopefully my relatives will be able to fill in the gaps. I never realized until now how important it is to me to know my history. 

UPDATE: Well, after asking, it seems as though no one know any further details regarding why my mother was in Taiwan when she was pregnant with me. I guess that's one tidbit of history that will remain a mystery.  

Inner thoughts

When it seems as though your last breath is upon you, do you want to know that it will be your last? Or would you rather be unaware? 

Thinking about my mother’s illness, I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been for her to endure almost two years of being undiagnosed, of being in pain . . . going through rounds of chemotherapy. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been for her to brave through the pain so that her colleagues would be unaware of just how sick she was and to put on the front for my father to ease his worry and pain. Though she was in the safety of the four walls of her own home, there was still so much that she couldn’t and wouldn’t emote. 

Not until recently did I know that my mother did, in fact, know the moment she was dying. She knew it was her last breath. And there was nothing anyone around her could do to change what was about to happen. All the prayers and hopes for a miracle were dashed. All the upbeat and positive thinking, immediately squashed. In a split second, it was over.

What I did know of my mother’s actual passing is not far from reality, in fact, it is very much reality . . . but with very important details excluded. I was told that after waking up, my father went to see my mother. He said that she was somewhat awake and that he told her he was going to get cleaned up (or something to that effect) and would be back. And after he left, she was gone. That last sentence . . . there was some editing. What actually happened, broke my heart. What actually took place made my heart ache for my father. For, he saw her taking her last breaths. He heard the words “I’m dying” fall from her lips. He saw her take her last breath. He saw his partner, his friend, the mother of his children slip away. 

Though I think I prefer the Disney version of what took place, I am glad to know that my mother wasn’t alone when she died. It makes me feel that all is right in the world that my mother and father were together as one exited. They started an incredible journey together and, really, it is only fitting that their journey ends together. 

Knowledge. It can be a powerful thing. With her knowledge, my mother was brave enough to tell my father what was about to happen. I can only wonder if it brought my mother comfort or pain (or both) to let my father know that the end was right there. 

It's not a circus, I promise you

Good approach: Be a friend or as close to a mother on the motherless one’s terms.

Bad approach: Don’t state that you are the “step mother” or “new” mother. Don’t act like the replacement mother.  

Given my age and when my mother died, honestly, the last person I need is someone trying to replace my mother or even trying the “mother” me in the smallest way. I don’t mean that to be rude, I don’t mean that to be insensitive to anyone. It’s just the truth. And I know there are women out there who understand this concept; who understand that at a certain point in time, what a motherless daughter needs and most likely wants is a friend. Yet I understand that it is likely a hard balance to maintain or even achieve. 

Since my mother passed away, there have been encounters with older women who have attempted just about every approach that exists. I’ve met the woman who flat out told me she is my “new” mother. Umm – no. I think it took every bone in my body to not punch this woman. No joke. I’ve met the woman who easily crosses the line to mothering me. Again, no. As soon as that line is crossed, every bone in my body tenses and I want to scream. But I refrain. And, I met a woman who struck the balance seemingly just right. It is easy for me to say this because she isn’t my own mother and I am able to see her through the eyes of an outsider, not someone in her family. But, for me, navigating through the motherless world, again . . . this particular mother could not have hit it any more perfectly. Having gotten to know each other and spent time together, you could say we forged a relationship. So, during a visit, while we were in the kitchen, she simply conveyed to me that she would never try to replace my mother, she would never try to be a mother to me but that she would always be a friend. Good approach.

Though I know mothers of other people in my life will always take the best interests of their own child first, as it should be. But, I also know that this particular mother will always be true to her word. That she will be a friend, that she will not try and be a mother. And that brings me to a place where I am able to listen to what she has to say without mistrust. That her words carry good intentions. It brings me to a place that when I am with her, I don’t feel like I am putting on appearances, but that I am truly happy to be in her company and in her home. 

Now THAT, strikes the balance for a motherless daughter. Thank you.

Motherless Bride . . . the Beginning

Here’s the entry that I was trying to avoid. I’ve spent countless sitdowns in front of my computer trying to avoid this very post . . . but I find it is impossible, so I better just grab it by the horns and just write.

Awesome news – yes, as we all know, the love of my life proposed to me on January 9, 2009. And I could not have been happier. In fact, what a great thing that our family and close friends were just as happy. Ok, maybe not as happy as we were, but happy nonetheless. To know that being his wife is literally the next step – makes me breathless.

Not so awesome news – I’m not sure how I feel about planning this incredible event with the absence of my mother. I know milestone events in life should not and cannot be avoided. And I know I should soak up every milestone moment regardless of who is present and who is not. Because, really, those who are not of this world anymore as with us . . . at least, that’s what I choose to believe. Yet, there is a difference between the actual being here and idea of being here. It is the actual NOT being here that I struggle with now that I am engaged. 

For our own reasons, there is a desire for a proper Church wedding . . . whether it’s because it is the “right” thing to do or that I want the memory of my father walking me down the aisle, there are reasons for a Church wedding followed by a reception. However, when I picture it, someone is missing . . . clearly, that someone is my mother. She won’t be at the wedding and she won’t be with me every step of the way as I look for a dress, decide on flowers or even think about colors. See, I always thought when I got married (again), my mother would be an active participant with the planning, etc. 

It’s not that I don’t have women in my life who would be more than happy to help. In fact, my aunt, my mother’s youngest sister, has already offered to help me plan. And I know that all it would take is a phone call with a simple request. But this just seems like one of those things where I would want my mommy, so to speak. I know reality, though. My mother is not here and there will be a Church wedding. So now the task becomes embracing the event and all that it entails myself along with asking and accepting help along the way. 

Continuing Forward

So a couple of weeks ago I went back to Church. Now, to some of you, that may not seem like a big deal. However, in this particular case . . . it actually was a big deal. I have not been back to the Church that my mother’s funeral service was in since she passed away. Nevermind the fact that I don’t regularly go to Church. At all. 

This is how it went . . . after parking the car, I just sat there. All I could do to prevent myself from leaving was to sit in my car and breath. Finally, when I realized that mass was about to start, I got out of my car and walked towards the church. As I looked up at the stairs leading to the Church, all I could see were flashbacks of walking down those stairs after my mother’s service. To be honest, all I wanted to do was leave. I didn’t want to go. Deep breaths. I continued with my deep breaths. I walked up the stairs, took one last breath and walked in the doors. At that time, the Church was still a little quiet. I picked a pew towards the back and just sat down. Slowly, my nerves started to settle. Slowly, I started to feel more comfortable. Church started.

The mass itself was easy . . . it’s like riding a bike. There are just some things you don’t forget after doing them over and over again. But, what was different was that for the first time in a long while, I felt warm and comfortable in the church. I felt like I belonged. It started to feel good that I was there and got past the “when I was here last” syndrome. 

When I left, I felt lighter, I felt good. I felt that this was just another step towards letting go of my mother. Of course I’ll always know that the Church is where the funeral service took place. But, that doesn’t have to stop me from going there or make me sad. It doesn’t have to cause fear. I don’t have to avoid it. There have been many things and places that I didn’t do or go because of the connection those things and places have to my mother. But, as each day passes, I realize I cannot live in fear. I cannot avoid places just because it is somehow associated with my mother. She wouldn’t want me to live in fear or avoid places we used to go to together. 

Clearly she wouldn’t want me to avoid the church especially given that it’s a venue where I may be getting married. Where she left off . . . I will pick up and continue. For that is the legacy of mother to daughter . . . Daughter to wife. And, hopefully, someday, wife to mother.

Family Ties

So, it's a new year . . . not just 2009, but yesterday was Chinese New Year. And yet another event where my mother isn't here. Another year ticks by. When my mother was alive, Chinese New Year was her occasion. It was her time where she showed her appreciation to her employees, friends and family and hosted a party. It was a time when I saw just how rooted my mother was with the people in her life. Especially her family. 

I recently thought that I am not nearly as tied in with my extended family (my mother's side of the family) as I once was. There was a time when my cousins and I would go on family vacations together, pick a location and meet up or something. But, there was more interaction when I was younger. Now, I know part of the distance occurred as a result of my first marriage. My mother made it very clear that I was more than welcome to family events, but my ex-husband was not. Well, I was married . . . I certainly wasn't to leave him behind. He was my family, too. But, that choice I had to make has had lasting consequences. Even to today. 

But now, as part of my stepping into a new year, especially the Year of the Ox (as that's my Chinese sign), I've decided that it's time to start taking back people, places or whatever that I allowed others to take. It's time to re-assert myself. It is what my mother would want . . . it is what she would expect. She would expect that I pick myself up by the bootstraps and be an adult and take action. Become more involved with my cousins. Become more of a participant even with my father and brother. And then go out into the world and take back the places I stopped going to because of falling outs with this person or that person. But, I digress, as the more important thing is to re-insert myself into my own family. A group of people who have always been a part of my life until my mother drew her line in the sand. It's time to shed whatever insecurities I had stemming from being isolated from my family. 

So, I've started taking the steps necessary. In fact, the start, which was just reaching out with more than just an email has already taken place. When I got engaged, I called my aunt to let her know and one of my cousins. I then proceeded to email all the rest of my cousins to let them know as well. As this past Christmas and Chinese New Year's approached, I sat down and wrote an email to all wishing them well. At some point, making over 10 phone calls can be overwhelming. But, the point remains is that I am no longer just sitting by wondering why I haven't heard from this person or that person. I will reach out. What happens from there I at least won't be questioning my inaction. It's a start though, and it feels right.

It's time. It's time to re-establish the family ties that bind as I begin a time of starting my own family.

Happy New Year!

I know I've taken some time away this holiday season. But, it has been well worth it as it was spent with family and friends. 

I hope you all had a wonderful new year and the writing will resume shortly!