I remember getting off of the plane, rather hot, quite tired and just ready to bolt through the airport. We had just exited the aircraft and the customs people were there yelling for people to get out their passports. I had taken a direct flight from Seoul to Calgary, it took 10 hours. There was a man in a white hat. People were staring at him. He looked disappointed. We made eye contact and he began to beam.
“Happy Canada Day!” he bellowed out. I grinned, from being tired and being so happy to be back in Canada. ”Oh, right! Happy birthday Canada!”. Some Koreans stared at me and then smiled.
I had left, my then, boyfriend after only moving to Seoul only 4 months before with hopes of us starting a life together.
The day after I had arrived in Seoul I got a message saying that my mom was in the hospital. A few weeks later we were told she had cancer. Then, it was ‘upgraded/downgraded’ (?) to a status of terminal. 6 months to a year. My mom refused to believe that she was terminal and said that she was ready to fight this. She was mad. She was pissed off that she and my dad had both just retired and were finally able to enjoy time together again after so many stressful family situations in the last few years. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to someone who was only 56.
We all secretly had thoughts of her dad then. He was diagnosed as terminal. He had chemo and I believe an operation. Things looked to be getting better and then a few months later his cancer was back. More aggressive. Spread throughout his body. Within 6 weeks he passed away.
But that was 15 years ago. Technology! Medicine! All those cancer research dollars. Something better must have come along.
Offers of books to read. Organizations to join. Strange fruit concoctions to drink. Stories of hope. Stories of reality. Stories of grief. Stories of despair. Suggestions to sign up for new ‘test cures’. Tears shed. Exhaustion.
I stayed for 2 months. It was the longest I had been ‘home’, to a home that I never lived in, since I was 17 and in high school. My parents said they were happy to have me. My mom said she was happy to have me.
I felt conflicted. I’d left a horrible job in Seoul. A boyfriend that I thought I was in love with but was so filled with sorrow, anxiety, guilt, anger, and tears that I wasn’t sure where we were.
They told me to look for a job in Seoul. My mom encouragingly listened to me as I described new job ads and new potentials for the future.
I didn’t try very hard. The guilt of leaving while she was getting chemo was too much. She smiled and on ‘off chemo weeks’ said that she would be fine. That we needed to get on with things. That there is no point in life stopping just because she was sick.
Then I got a call. It was for a good job. I wanted it. I really did. At the same time I secretly hoped that it would fall through then I wouldn’t have to face my mom and say goodbye. She mustered up all the energy she could to be supportive. She helped my pack. She was excited to be distracted from being sick and for me.
The day I left for the airport…
Happy birthday Canada
