The movers told us to pack up expensive items, personal items and things of high value.  I was going through a random drawer and found pictures my parents had mailed me from when they first went down to the States to be snow birds.  I was still in Canada at the time.  My mom had sent a letter with the pictures via a super express post to make sure that I got it in time before I left.  She always did things like that.

When I was little my  mom used to tell me about old wives tales in our Russian heritage (but ,as I talked to my maternal grandmother, born in Canada,  said today “…we’re not Russian, we’re fully Canadian…”).  One that is sticking in my mind is how when you move you need to sweep your floors but then toss out the dust in the new house or else your spirit won’t know where you are.

My mom also believed that we had spirits watching us and looking out for us.

Now combine us moving, finding pictures, and thinking about my mom and her “protecting spirits” which I don’t actually believe in, but, it still makes me choke up at knowing that my mom won’t know where I’m going.  Which logically translates into me facing that life is moving on without her and not being able to share these moments with her.  Throw in a husband that’s still at work and well you have a teary eyed wife.

So thankful that we have movers.

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

I’ve been having nightmares about my mom where she is alive again but very sick and I have to go through the whole process of watching her health deteriorate and then pass away again.  Subsequently I’ve been on strike with my subconscious and trying to trick it aka stay up as late as possible in hopes of passing out from exhaustion and having a dreamless night.  No such luck so far.

The problem I have with living internationally is that the majority of the people that I meet here, although friends, do not have the same goals as me.  I constantly worry about money with regards to retirement.  I’m in the process of becoming a non-resident of Canada and so have stopped contributing to my RSP’s (which I started when I was 18) and so am having slight heart palpitations about it.  When I mentioned this to a friend, the response was “Nah, you’ve got nothing to worry about.  I’m not going to start saving until I’m in my 50’s.”

Are you insane?  Where the hell will you live? — a different friend said “I’d be fine to live with monks in a cave”.

Holy shit.

I have come to terms that I am an intense planner, which is not a personality conducive to the original believed stereotype about English teachers in Asia.  BUT come on!  Really?  Is that what you really think?

Fuck it.  I’m feeling sorry for myself and am going to make some comforting pasta and set up a lovely vapid environment for myself.

(I’m changing the title of this post because I’m getting crazy spam from the last one.)

  We’ve decided to have our wedding ceremony in February of 2010 so that we’ll be able to maximize the amount of time off that hubby can get to have a decent vacation together.  I told my dad that by that time, although we’ll have been married for 2 years, all of it was just a practice run. ha.

  All of this is making me quite upset again about my mom passing though.  One thing that I’m very grateful about is that my family has always been very straight forward (for better or worse was situational) and so I know that my mom would think that having the ceremony in almost a year from now, would be an excellent idea.  No qualms about it.  You need to live life and something like a wedding is a great opportunity.

  As I think of this I honestly have those feelings of when you are little.  When you know that you should listen to your parents but for some reason you are just so upset and don’t want to do it and subsequently drag your feet and burst out into tears.  Of course I’m not sure if the choking sobs sound quite as dramatic as they feel …

  The term is almost over and I’ve picked up extra classes at the university I teach at and so will actually end up working more hours during the summer than I usually do during the school year.  In September regular classes begin and I’ll also start my masters program that I delayed from spring this year.  I’m a bit of a keener and so have purchased 6 or 7 of the books already and hope to get them read by the end of the summer to feel like I’m somewhat ready to be a student again.

  We also are planning to move to a different apartment in October – which isn’t an ideal time but for some reason we have it in our heads that that is the latest we want to stay in this place.  It will be Christmas and I’ll be done work again before I know it and then my dad will come to Seoul about a week prior to the wedding so that he and I can jet set to some other nation and relax before the wedding.  I wonder how strange that will seem to the Korean guests. haha.  

  I think for our honeymoon that we’ll go to Malaysia as that is one country I’ve had on my list for a while.  I’ve been to Taiwan, Japan, Vietnam, South Korea, Hong Kong, Bali and Guam already so I want somewhere that hubby and we can that’s just ours (memory wise of course).  I think he may only be able to get a week off so I’ll need to get some research done as to what we can do in that time frame.  Any suggestions?

  My eyes are salty and burning and my head is just pounding from crying all day.  What pisses me off is that it’s just a wedding ceremony.  Bloody hell what am I going to be like if we have kids?

  I met up with a friend for coffee and we were talking about my mom passing and about culture and death.  I’d mentioned how I wasn’t really saying anything to Koreans as I didn’t know what their reaction would be and depending on how I was feeling I might not provide the most civilized response.  So, it threw me loop when the inappropriate responses having been coming from my people – the EFL teachers.

  So, here is a quick guide of what not to say to someone who is grieving:

1)  When did _______ die?

2)  Whoa, that’s a conversation killer!

3)  Were you close?

4)  Were they sick?  (the reason I say this is because you make me feel like I need to justify my grief)

5)  Did ________ suffer?

6)  They’re better off now.

And to contrast, here is a list of great things to say:

1)  I’m not sure what to say.

2)  I’m sorry to hear that.

3)  Would you like a distraction?  (my personal fav right now)

4)  If you want to talk about it feel free, I’ll just listen.

5)  providing hugs is always welcome too.

  It’s our 1 year wedding anniversary today.  What might we be doing you ask?  No idea.  We’re terrible for these things which is actually a good thing because that means that neither one of us is disappointed in the other.  We’re more about the everyday actions and abhor things like Valentines day.  That’s not to say that I don’t want flowers or some sort of love poem (bwahaha, that’ll never happen, the poem that is) but I like spur of the moment gestures.

  I’m trying to get better at making those ‘moments’ special but most of me just doesn’t give a rats ass — those are the types of things that make me thing I’ll be a terrible mom, should I ever become one.  Which is another reason why I got all teary eyed when I went shopping with a friend of my parents because she’s a grandma and watching her excitedly pick out things for her grandkids really hit home that my potential short ones won’t have a grandma to dote on them.  To purchase that useless crap that is so much fun but excessive at the same time.  We can forget about my dad doing that, he and I are far too similar. 

  Huh, this was supposed to be a cheerful post… damn reality.

My sister posted this on her site and I wanted to share it.

The AfterLoss Credo by Barbara LesStrang

*************************************
I need to talk about my loss. 
I may feel the need to tell you what
happened -or to ask you why it happened.

I may frequently need for you to listen
while I explain what this loss means to me. 
Each time I discuss my loss, I am helping myself
face the reality of the death of my loved one.

I need to know that you care about me. 
I may need to feel your touch, your hugs. I need you 
just to be with me. And I need to be with you.

I need for you to believe in me and in my 
ability to get through this grief in 
my own way and in my own time. 

Please don’t judge me now 
-or think that I am behaving strangely.
Remember I’m grieving. I may be in shock. 
I may feel afraid. I may feel deep rage.
I may even feel guilty. But above all, I hurt.
I am experiencing a pain unlike 
any I’ve ever felt before. 

Don’t be concerned if you think I’m getting better
and then suddenly I seem to slip backward again.
Grief makes me behave this way at times.

And please don’t tell me you know just how I feel
or that it’s time for me to get on with my life.
I am probably already saying this to myself.
I just need for you to be patient now 
and try to understand. 

Finally, allow me the time I need to grieve and to recover.
I want to get on with my life but know that first I must 
walk through the dark shadows of my grief.
And, although it is almost impossible for me to believe this now,
I know that one day my grief will end.

Most of all, thank you for being my friend.
Thank you for caring, for helping, for understanding.
Thank you for praying for me. And remember, 
In the days or years ahead after your loss when you 
need me as I have needed you, I will understand,
and then I will and be with you.

-Barbara LesStrang

  I’m kind of having these mini little panic attacks at the thought of leaving.

  I’m concerned about my dad’s health and mental state since this will be the first time that he will be alone.  

  I’m worried that he won’t eat properly and will drink and smoke far too much.  

  I keep wondering if he will get into a funk that he won’t be able to pull himself out of and won’t ask for help out of.  

  I freak out at the idea that something dreadful will happen when I leave.  Living so far from your family, especially your parents as they age, is a difficult decision and one that can fill you with guilt (and if people say otherwise than they haven’t had any serious situations occur and have no reference to base it on).  Combined with all that has happened to our family, immediate and extended over the last 5 years, we need a freaking break already.

  I’m also worried about heading back to Seoul.  I’ve been out for 2 months now and have gotten used to what is ‘normal’ for me – the creature comforts of North American life (read as: bath tub, regular food prices for things I love to eat, radio stations, clean air, happy people (umm, very biased seeing as they are all retired, play games all day and then have a few drinks, and then hit repeat, but still ….) social nuances that I understand and can relate to (vs the feeling “hmm, what are you gaining from this?  Or worse yet, “Why do I feel like you are judging me and yet not being forthright about it?).

  The worst thing will be that I haven’t faced ‘my people’ there and dealt with my own emotions for quite a while.  Rather, I’ve been in ‘high-stress-take-care-of-dad mode’ for weeks now.  He has enough pre-made, frozen meat dishes for at least 23 meals, a list of potential things to cook, how to cook them, and various side dishes to go with them, full lessons on laundry, and did I mention, the 34 or so close friends in the park that have expressed their concern and offered to check up on him?

  Right, back to me, and my needs!  haha (running family joke).

  Here’s the thing.  When you live overseas, you become accustomed to different things, not necessarily do you like them, but you get used to it; a layer of indifference settles over you so that you can focus on more important things than the newbie rant.  Here in called LOI.

  But guess what?  That layer?  Yeah, it’s all gone.  In fact, in its place, is a soft, gentle, where ever I go in the complex, cushiony bubble of protection, where people that recognize my family name know what is going on and do their best to maintain the bubble.  

  See where I’m going?  When I get back to Seoul not only do I need to build up my LOI but I also need to learn how to be a daughter without a mother.  

  It’s strange how your brain just forgets things.  My dad and I were talking about how all of this just doesn’t seem real.  How at times, I’ll think “Crap, I’d better give mom a call, it’s been ages and she’ll be pissed that I’ve been ignoring her.”  Or how I’ll think, just for a moment, that we should wait on dinner until mom gets home.

  In a way it’s horrible to be here because all I see is “universal mom’s” everywhere.  You know the kind that do those quirky things that you thought only your mom did.  The type that just know how to ask “How are you today?” with a squeeze of the arm, or hug, to set you crying.   

  When my aunt came to visit, my sister and I latched onto her, fiercely, really.  

  There are just so many things that I relied on my mom for that I don’t know what I’ll do in the future.  How do you fill the gap of a missing mom?  She was only 58 when she died.  

  This isn’t just a ‘blame Seoul for all my problems’ kind of thing.  Oh god no.  For the last 2 months I’ve only had to deal with this; with my mom being in the hospital for a month, then passing, and now grieving.  I haven’t had to pay bills, organize a schedule, interact with people that don’t know about this, make decisions of any kind, well I suppose, I haven’t had to move on.  And that’s what hurts and kind of grips you with a bit of fear.  

Hello Guilt phase!  Do you plan on staying for a while?  Cause you are a painful bugger.  Oh, what’s that you say?  Depression and Loneliness are on their way.  Awesome!  Let me tell you, having Denial, Shock, and Anger over for a visit has been a bit tiresome.  Oh, right, Bargaining did stop by for a while but didn’t feel fulfilled so left early.

  Can I offer a suggestion?  Ask your parents about their timelines well before they are sick, in the hospital or dying.  What I mean is, we aren’t religious so when the celebrant was helping us to get the service ready, we needed to provide him with as much of a snapshot of my mom’s life as possible.  My sister had asked me to write out a time line of her life.  Here’s how it looked:

1950:  born

1975: sister is born

1979: I was born

  Then the details were easier seeing as I was, you know, around.  But really, there is so much information that you don’t know, decisions that you don’t want to make (poems, songs, stories, pictures, etc that you may not know if they represent the person or would want to be remembered that way) or don’t have the energy to make, let alone provide detailed info to someone else.  I suppose part of the grieving process is to talk about these things and share information, but if you moved as many times as my parents did (over 20 times in 38 years of marriage, never staying in one place longer than 5 years … yes we are nomads but it’s in the blood) things get a bit fuzzy.