…my brother knows how to make my day.
He sent me this picture:
AND I REALLY JUST CAN’T STOP GIGGLING
As a good number of people might guess, this past year hasn’t really done much for my self-esteem. You’re talking about the frowzy girl with dark circles constantly under her eyes who is breaking out across her forehead from stress and trying really hard to think coherently (not even bothering with trying to sound intelligent anymore – coherent works fine for now) through the haze of emotional, mental, and physical fatigue. I do hope to escape being that girl sometime very soon, but for the time being it’s still a bit of a recurring problem.
So I went up to Portland this weekend to visit the boyfriend. It was a gorgeous, clear (although mind-numbingly cold) day, so we decided to drive out toward the mountains one afternoon – you know, great view, fresh air, etc. Halfway up toward Mr. Hood, the topic of conversation was insecurity…about my recent battles with the wretched beast and generally how I’ve been feeling pretty unattractive and unsociable and unintelligent lately, about how I’ve never actually struggled with something quite like this before (except maybe back in the seventh grade?), and I can’t believe how much it actually bothers me that it bothers me, along with how the boyfriend, not knowing what to do with this new, baffling Esther with girly insecurities, hasn’t been enough of a fawning boyfriend, ahahahahaha…and yes, my insecurities were helping me understand my fellow sisters in an entirely new way, but gee, it still was kinda rough to be waking up to a wince-inducing face in the mirror every morning or barely being able to finish the Monday crossword puzzle even though it might all just be in my mind, etcetera, etcetera.
In the middle of this conversation, I had to use the bathroom, so we pulled over at a tiny gas station where he waited in the car and I stepped inside to find a bathroom (plus get a bottle of water). This is what happened:
Esther (looks around, doesn’t see a bathroom anywhere): Um, excuse me. I was hoping to use the bathroom around here? Could you tell me where it is?
Guy behind the counter: Well…(looks critically at Esther) We’re supposed to tell people that we don’t have a bathroom, because it’s only for employee use. But you know (crosses arms and leans back), for pretty girls I can always make an exception.
*pause*
Esther (nervously): Er…do I count? (points to herself)
Guy behind the counter: Here, it’s right this way (shows a very relieved Esther to the nice bathroom hidden in the back).
Two minutes later, Esther comes out of the bathroom, picks up a bottle of water, and is paying for it, when the guy starts making conversation again.
Guy behind the counter: So…where do you get nice-looking boots like those?
Esther (looks down at her gray knee-high boots): Oh, these? You’d have to get them in LA.
Guy behind the counter: LA? So I guess you’re just passing through, huh? Not from around here?
Esther: No.
His friend at the other cash register starts laughing, and Esther notices for the first time that the guy behind the counter looks genuinely disappointed. Then it finally dawns on her slow, slow mind what’s been happening this whole time. So when he asks what she’s visiting Portland for, she tells him she’s visiting her boyfriend, thanks, and bye!
Outside, Esther gets into the car with her mouth twitching, and – half a block down the road – busts out laughing. The puzzled boyfriend wants to know what’s so funny. So she tells him what happened in the convenience store, and he listens quietly until she gets to the part where she pointed to herself and asked, “Do I count?” then he starts hollering, “OMG YOU WERE FLIRTING BACK YOU WERE TOTALLY FLIRTING WITH HIM I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WERE FLIRTING WITH THE GAS STATION GUY OMG!”
At this point Esther is wiping off tears from her face from laughing so hard and her insecurities are cured for the day.
The End.
Posted in cachinnating | 7 Comments »
Famous line from Homer Simpson. Not my favorite Simpson, but if I were to quote Lisa instead, I’d be saying something about not enough synonyms and losing my perspicacity…which doesn’t have quite the same effect.
I’ve been having some sleeping problems.
It started out with not being able to sleep – waking up intermittently throughout the night, waking up as soon as my 4-hour quota was up. I knew it was just what my body was used to after the trying circumstances of the past year. It was like my mind knew I didn’t have to stay up anymore, but my body somehow missed the memo. I tried everything from sleeping pills to exercise to wine (had a near encounter with AA at the rate I was going), and as it turns out all it took was a blessed retreat and some peace of mind to….reverse the problem.
Virtually overnight, I went from insomniac to narcoleptic. I began to sleep and couldn’t stop. Correction: still can’t stop. I would go to work, come back, and pass out immediately after dropping my bag on the floor. This went on for many days. Even worse, when I woke up from 14-15 hours of sleeping, I didn’t feel refreshed at all. Instead, I felt and looked even more tired than before. By now I don’t even get startled anymore at the sight of the drawn face with dark circles under the eyes every time I spot myself in the mirror. Thought it was something wrong with my body, so I went to the doctor. After running some blood tests, he told me that I’m fine. Not even anemic.
SO WHY IS IT I CAN’T STOP SLEEPING?? *heaves a gigundous sigh* Actually, that’s not my real beef today (or else the entry title might have read something like “Narcoleptic Argentinians Unite” – at which Amy, I’m sure, is the only one laughing her head off while the rest of you are questioning my ethnicity…or sanity…or both…)
No, my problem is that I feel like the sleeping problems are messing with my head. I can’t think straight lately. I’m always tired, always sleepy, feeling weak, and generally have a hard time focusing. Sometimes my words won’t come out right, and sometimes I drop whatever I’m holding in my hand if I don’t remind myself that I’m holding something. Worst yet, I can’t think coherently enough to write a decent essay for my grad school applications. And they say I’m supposed to sound intelligent. Put your best foot forward. Express your real self in your essay. It’s your one chance to stand out…blah-dee-blah-dee-blah.
Hm, I sure would stand out if I actually expressed my real self in an essay right now: “Hi, I’m Esther and I am so SMRT…heh…and I, uh, zzzzzZzZZZzzZzzzz.”
Could it be that maybe I’m just a big whiner? Probably.
Is it scientifically possible that maybe too much sleep is killing off my brain cells? Hm…probably not.
And should I just not sleep since sleeping and not sleeping have the same effect and I could very well use the time from not sleeping to work on my applications? Yes, that would be the logical thing to do.
Well, I obviously stayed up long enough to write this entry, so why don’t I go do something productive? Well, this having been my biggest intellectual output for the week, I am now tired, sore, and ready to pass…out…aga – zzZzzZzZZzZzzzz…
Posted in rambling, ranting | 2 Comments »
A quote from my high school English teacher’s website that I’ve decided to keep close by as I try to ignore the December grad school deadlines that are looming ahead, as well as the implications that the applications hold over my near and distant future. Also a timely quote, I’m sure, when one has a 10-page paper to crank out in 8 hours (boy, do I miss school…).
On a related note, I’ve decided to publicize a ballad I wrote back in high school that my favorite English teacher kept all these years. She recently e-mailed me asking if she could post it on her website as an example for her current students. Very flattered, I said yes but couldn’t remember what exactly I had written. Lo and behold, she sent me a copy, and here it is in all its iambic tetra-and-tri-meter-iffic glory for your enjoyment.
[Disclaimer: I am not and have never been unjustly prejudiced against blonds. Really.]
Evil Cinderella
Those tales of old we know so well
Are not to be believed.
For Cinderella was no saint;
We all have been deceived.
With darling little sisters and
Her mother did she dwell.
The evil Cinderella made
Their lives a living hell.
All day and night she put to them
The tasks she loathed to do,
And most of all, sweet sister Belle
Was bullied without rue.
Now Belle was charming, sweet, and kind,
There was none else so fair.
But Cindy hated especially
Her shiny, golden hair.
And then, one day, a carriage from
The royal palace came;
It bore a royal messenger
Who stood up tall to claim,
“The prince is looking for a wife
And he is going to choose
The lucky blonde that’s capable
Of filling in those shoes.”
When Cinderella heard of this,
She shrieked upon her bed
Because, you see, she was no blonde,
Dark-haired she was instead.
So Cinderella sat at home
And bawled her eyeballs out
While Belle fixed up her golden hair
And gave a gleeful shout.
Belle’s golden curls were bouncing
And a smile was on her face,
As she took off to see the prince,
Dressed in her finest lace.
Poor Cinderella was so mad,
Upon her clothes she tore;
She thought about her awful fate
And hated Bell some more.
And suddenly before her sat
A tiny little man.
While Cinderella blinked in shock
The little man began,
“You’ve freed me from an awful spell;
It kept me trapped for years.
My name is Scam and I am free
Because you shed those tears.
“So tell me what it is you wish;
Your wish is my command.
But pray do mind that I cannot
Do anything too grand.”
Now Cinderella’s eyes lit up;
A perfect plan she had:
The prince would fall in love with her,
And Belle would be so sad.
She loudly screeched to waiting Scam,
“Get up and make me blonde!”
And ‘Twas his duty to obey.
He waved his little wand.
A sizzling noise then filled the air,
And lightening struck her head.
Lo, Cinderella, now a blonde,
Looked at the man and said,
“Now change my face to beautiful
And make a pretty dress,
And horses and a carriage and
Some fancy shoes, no less.”
The man obeyed her every word,
He made her all those things.
He warned the girl, “Be back before
The bell for midnight rings.
“For after midnight I’ll be gone;
I won’t be staying for long.
If you are late, you’ll be exposed,
My magic is not strong.”
“Okay!” she stuck her head out from
The carriage door to yell.
All dressed up in the fairy gear,
She looked as good as Belle.
The royal dance had just begun
When Cinderella came.
Of all the blondes, ‘Twas pretty Belle
Who was the chosen dame.
That is, until the prince looked up
And spotted Cinderella.
One look was all it took for him;
His legs were mozzarella.
They danced the happy night away,
The prince and Cinderella,
The prince was ready to marry the girl,
The poor and stupid fella.
Just then the clock struck midnight, and
It was already time.
So Cinderella turned and ran
As bells began to chime.
The prince called out to her, “Don’t go!”
And Cinderella stopped.
She stared at him in silent shock
Until her jaw just dropped.
She was so shocked: she felt as though
A bomb had smashed her house;
Her charming, handsome prince possessed
A voice like Mickey Mouse!
He followed as she ran again,
This time to run from him.
The bells were finished chiming, and
She was no more so prim.
But, alas, the stupid prince, he just
Continued to pursue.
So Cinderella took one shoe
And hurled it out of the blue.
It hit him with a “Thwack” right on
His handsome little nose,
Yet as he bled, the prince cried out,
“Don’t go away, my rose!”
I’ll spare the rest of the gory tale
And keep it short for you,
Because, you see, the unfortunate prince,
He bled to death, it’s true.
The king and queen got furious,
Their only son had died.
So they set out to find the girl
Who wouldn’t be his bride.
And so with nothing but a shoe,
They searched and finally found
The girl to whom the shoe belonged
And had her cruelly drowned.
But here’s the twist, that girl who drowned
Was not the girl you think.
It was not Cinderella, but
Kind Belle, who had to sink.
The shoe belonged to Belle because
The little man had lied;
Scam could not make a shoe so he
Just grabbed one from the side.
And when they knocked upon the door
As Belle sat down to dine,
Sweet Belle took one look at the shoe
And claimed, “Hey, this is mine!”
‘Tis not a sin to be a blonde,
But this? It brings no laughter.
For wicked Cinderella did
Live happily ever after.
Posted in rambling, writing | 5 Comments »
I’ve decided to give my blog a break from those long, wordy entries. Soooo…we shall have a long, pictorial entry instead. (hey, that’s still progress)
sunny lemon star!
they look pretty and sound pretty, too
this movie & chubby little kids with short legs and a check (chin + neck = check) *^^*
actually, pretty much anything chubby with short legs
...with the exception of this one, I guess
enter new dark chocolate vice (unbelievably found something that trumps Lindt dark chocolate truffles...but only by half a point)
www.tastespotting.com...mmm...if looking = eating, I'd be morbidly obese by now
And finally...autumn. Ahhh...
Posted in broadcasting, rambling | 2 Comments »
Needless to say, the months following my mom’s passing have been difficult. Not a day goes by that we don’t feel the huge, gaping Mom-shaped hole, the painfully missing presence in the house. But we do our best to get by, to move forward.
I think my dad has it the worst, though. It was different for him. It dawned on me at a particular point that wow, he just lost the love of his life. The one he meant to spend the rest of his life with, enjoying their remaining golden years together while reminiscing their bygone days. To grow old with and cherish to the end – in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, in joy and in sorrow…
There are days when I get home from work and catch him rubbing his reddened eyes. There are also moments when he spots something in the house that screams out my mom’s name – a newspaper cutout she stuck on the side of the fridge, a tattered bookmark that fell out of her Bible, a jar in the pantry labeled with her tidy handwriting – and instantly crumbles into hot-eyed melancholy. Sometimes he calls her name out abruptly just to hear it echoing through the big, empty house. Empty although the rest of us are here, empty because she’s not.
It actually is kind of gut-wrenching at times.
But we have good days, too. Days we try to fill with hopefully more than just distractions, with genuine laughter and with hope. My dad, my brother, and I make an effort to spend time together. We invite people over, watch movies together, and poke fun at each other. We know we have to move on, and that means allowing new experiences into our lives and accepting life as it comes.
Speaking of new experiences, I made the mistake of introducing my dad to Jenga today. You know, that tower of wooden blocks you keep building up by taking pieces from the bottom? It was my dad’s first game of Jenga, and the first game of Jenga I’ve ever lost to anyone. Firsts for both of us, and promises of many more hours of fun to follow. Man, who knew those big, chubby fingers had such finesse to them?
The next block from the tower came away in my hands, followed shortly by a thunderous crash announcing my defeat. Ah, there goes my unbroken record. But somehow, I didn’t mind all that much. 
Posted in x-uncategorized-x | 2 Comments »
Look at me.
Look at me.
Does anyone else know your pain like I do?
Can anyone else comfort you the way I can?
Has anyone endured pain greater than yours?
I have. I can. I do.
Because I love you.
And when you ache
And no one knows,
Know that I know;
Know that I ache.
This is how I love you.
So just look at me.
And I will show you.
– God, to Esther on the evening of 10/24/09
Posted in ruminating, writing | 1 Comment »
Something I’ve come to realize recently is that I’ve been grappling with a fundamental question that stands between me and God. I know a common question in times like these is “Why?” My question, however, is more of a cautious, “Are you still GOOD?”
The funny thing is that I don’t question that He is God. And if He is God, then He must be good. But there’s somehow a disconnect between God and good right now, and I’m trying to explain to myself how that came to be.
The God I know is good. He sent His Son to suffer and die in my place so that I might live. He forgives my life of wretched sin. He loves me beyond compare, and He is jealous for my love in return. The Bible tells me so.
In the face of the adversity that took hold of my life in recent times, however, I’ve come to grapple with some issues on trust. My faith – that supposedly solid, unfaltering trust in the Great, Steady Hand – is shaken by the hopelessness of my exhausted state. I found myself saying, “I know You’re only supposed to give me as much as I can handle, but really, I don’t think I can handle a single jot more. Can you please ease up a tiny bit? Will you have mercy? Please – just a little break, a bit of rest from all this unrest. And if you’re refusing me, is it because You know I can take more? Because if that’s the case, you’re wrong. I can’t. I’ve reached my breaking point. Could it be that after all You’re not the good God I have known all my life?”
I’ve been asking Him if He still has my best interests in mind, if after all that He allowed in my life He still loves me and has full control over every aspect of my life. Doubt is a hard pill to swallow, but in acknowledging it, I am also made aware of the fact that it’s not the kind of doubt that desires to break away. No, I think it’s the doubt that wants to be reassured, comforted. It just kind of hit me one day that maybe, all I really want is for Him to tell me that it’s okay. Because somewhere deep down inside I already know He’s a good God, that He is for me and not against me. So maybe the real question behind the one I’ve been asking isn’t whether He loves me, but if He could show me.
Sounds like selfish thing, doesn’t it? Especially after all the love He’s shown me through the people around me. And I know I don’t get to be picky. But you know, He promised that I’m His daughter, and that must mean I can ask. That must mean I can ask Him to act out His love for me simply because He knows better than anyone else that I am in a frail and vulnerable place.
Words are not enough. Not now. I need Him to meet me there.
Posted in ranting, ruminating | 2 Comments »
Yesterday I read someone’s blog and cried. Pretty bitterly.
After the tumultuous events of the past couple of years, I’m just beginning to wake up to the reality of my here and now. I recently watched an episode of Grey’s Anatomy where a guy woke up from a 16-year-long coma to find that his family has moved on. Nobody – not even the guy himself – is happy about his awakening. Ouch. Makes you wonder if maybe he’d been better off in a coma. At least that didn’t hurt.
No, what hurts is the fact that while I was throwing everything aside just to survive, time hustled by at a freakish pace without looking back, without checking to see if I was okay. It didn’t understand what I was having to do – pouring all I could muster into eking out the last of my strength beyond any known limits and holding onto what fragments of sanity I possibly could. Somewhere along the way it failed to remember that I didn’t have the luxury of catching up, of explaining, and of considering anything besides barely making it from one moment to the next.
And now, there’s so much to recover I don’t know where to start. And I’m not sure if I’m ready to. In all honesty, I’ve never been so out of the loop. I’ve never had so much trouble being in touch with people’s lives, never been so misunderstood, misjudged, or so aware of my inability to convey my inner self. I’ve never felt like I’ve lost so much before, and above all, I’ve never felt so insecure about myself in every way.
It would be nice if I could just pick up where I’d left off. But I don’t remember where that was. In the meantime, things change. People change. Lives move on.
And reading an angry blog that seems to be pointing at all my limitations as a human being right at that point of sad, sad realization sure makes me weep some pretty angry tears…like yesterday.
Today I got an e-mail from someone saying they read my blog and cried. But not for the same reasons I did. It was from someone I don’t know very deeply, never really got to talk to very much…but someone who happened to read my last blog entry in passing and who, though they felt hesitant about getting in touch out of the blue, had the openness to ask how they could pray for me anyway.
And for the briefest of moments – for once - time slowed its frantic pace just enough to let me have a good, long cry.
…
Man, this blogging business sure is bad for tear ducts.
Posted in ranting | Leave a Comment »
엄마…
그동안 많이 힘들었지? 10개월이라는 기간동안 엄마가 얼마나 아파했는지, 얼마나 참았는지 아무도 모를거야. 그렇게 또 씩씩하던 엄마가 많이 힘들어하는 모습을 보는 우리 모두 참 가슴이 아팠어. 하지만 나 역시 씩씩한 딸이라서 엄마가 나에게 의지하는걸 알았기 때문에, 나 엄마한테 힘이 되어주려고 열심히 눈물을 참았어.
엄마가 그랬잖아. 다른건 다 참을 수 있어도 – 특히 아빠나 마누엘은 울지 몰라도 – 내가 울면 엄마가 도저히 견딜 수 없을것만 같다고.
그래서 나, 엄마가 처음 아파서 기운을 못 낼때도, 힘든 소식을 받고 울 때도, 항암치료 때문에 뼈져리는 고통을 겪을때도, 매일 울면서 기도하고 통곡하고, 특히 내색하는 것보다 훨씬 괴로워 하고 있다는 걸 뻔히 알면서도…난 모르는 척 하면서 매일 웃는 모습으로 엄마 곁에 있었어.
그런데 엄마, 솔직히 나 너무 힘들었다. 엄마가 우리한테 아파서 미안하다는 말을 할때마다 얼마나 마음이 쓰라리고 아팠는지 엄마는 모르지? 직장 다니면서 매일 엄마를 간호하고 아빠랑 마누엘 챙겨주고, 또 집안일을 맡아서 하는건 사실 하나도 힘들지 않았어. 아무리 피곤하고 지쳤어도 엄마를 주물러주고, 먹여주고, 씻겨주고, 손잡아주는 시간 만큼은 나한테 참 행복하게 느껴졌으니까. 나에게 평생 엄마가 해준 걸 생각하면 사실 비교도 안되는 거였잖아. 하지만 내가 제일 힘들었던 것은…사랑하는 엄마를 보호해주지 못해서, 대신 아파주지 못해서, 해줄 수 있는게 없어서…그래서 너무 미안하고 가슴이 아팠어.
엄마, 나…잘했지? 끝까지 엄마한테 웃는 모습 보이려고 애썼던거. 가끔씩 복바치는 서러움 앞에서도 꾹 참고 엄마 앖에서만큼은 씩씩하려고 많이 노력했는데…엄마가 나때문에 더 힘들어 하면 안되니까.
그런데 엄마, 나 이제 울어도 될까? 솔직히 나 더 이상은 참기가 힘들 것 같아. 오늘도 엄마가 없는 집으로 돌아가면, 냉장고 안에 엄마랑 같이 담근 김치를 보면, 엄마가 안고서 아픔을 달래면서 기도했던 배개를 보면…난 눈물이 나오기 시작해서 멈추지 않을 것 같은데…너무 힘들 것 같은데…이제는 울어도 괜찮은거지?
엄만 이제는 안아프잖아. 하나님 곁에서 편한 마음으로 맑은 목소리로 찬양하고 있잖아. 난 알아. 엄마는 정말로 모든 것에 최선을 다하고 하나님 앞에 갔기 때문에 분명히 하나님께서 “착하고 신실한 종아, 잘했다”라고 하시면서 반기셨을거. 한가지 아쉬운 것이 있다면 엄마가 늘 그랬지? 꼭 다 나아서 하나님 은혜를 간증하면서 남은 여생을 보내야 한다고. 그런데 엄마, 걱정하지마. 엄마는 천국에 가 있어도 여기에 엄마의 간증이 나, 아빠, 마누엘, 그리고 엄마의 삶을 지금까지 지켜본 모든 사람을 안에 살아있어.
우리, 약속할게. 이 간증이 엄마가 그렇게도 사모하는 하나님 나라에 영광이 될 수 있도록 열심히 살거야. 기대해도 좋아, 엄마. 엄마가 평생 나에게 가르쳐준 것 중에 제일 중요한 것은 하나님의 마음을 시원케 해드리는 믿음의 딸이 되는 거니까. 말뿐이 아닌 행동과 삶 자체로 보여준 엄마를 나에게 본보기로 주신 하나님께 난 참 감사드려.
엄마, 여기에 모인 우리 모두 다 엄마를 얼마나 사랑하는지 알지? 물론 엄마 마음을 아프게 할 때도 있었고, 엄마에게 사랑을 제대로 전달하지 못해서 안타까운 마음들도 많이 있어. 하지만 엄마가 나한테 그랬었잖아. 엄마는 감사할 것 밖에 없다고. 이렇게 여러 사람의 사랑을 받을 자격이 없는 것 같다고. 사실 난 엄마를 볼 때마다 언제나 마음이 아팠던 것이, 늘 사랑을 베풀고 엄마의 모든 것을 아낌없이 내어 주고도 아무것도 돌려받지 않는 것 같아서 가끔은 엄마 주변 사람들이 밉기까지도 했었어. 그럼에도 불구하고 엄마가 끝까지 큰 사랑을 느끼면서 감사했던 마음, 내가 꼭 다 전해드릴거야.
그리고 엄마, 우리 가족 – 나, 아빠, 마누엘 – 많이 울지 않을께. 슬퍼하지 않을거야. 빨리 힘내서 엄마가 하던 일을 더욱더 열심히 해야지. 이다음에 천국에 가서 엄마를 만나면 헛된 인생을 살다 왔다고 꾸중 듣기 싫거든. 우리, 정말 잘 할거야. 하나님 보시기에 아름답도록, 엄마가 보기에도 자랑스럽도록.
엄마, 정말 고마워. 그리고 사랑해.
…………………………
[TRANSLATION]
NOTE: Instead of a formal traditional eulogy, my dad asked that I give a more personal Korean eulogy in first person, addressed directly to my mom. But more than just to share a speech that was given at her funeral, I guess this is my personal tribute to my mom and her hard-fought battle. Translated by request for those who do not read Korean…I apologize for the lack of accuracy in expressing certain parts – some things are obviously lost in translation.
Mom…
It’s been rough stretch, hasn’t it? No one will ever truly know just how much pain you endured, just how much you held in and kept to yourself for the past ten months. Because you’ve always been such a strong woman, watching you suffer was all the more heartbreaking for all of us. But because I’ve always been such a strong daughter myself, and because I knew you relied on me to be tough, I did my best to hold my tears.
You said so yourself: you could stand anything else – even Dad or Manny crying – but you didn’t think you could hold together if I ever cried.
And so I did my best. When you first got sick and started losing strength, when you and Dad were sobbing together after receiving the bad news, when you were experiencing the unbearable, excruciating pain of chemotherapy, when you were crying out in agonizing prayer day after day, and especially knowing you were in so much more pain than you were showing…through all these things I stayed by your side with a bright face, pretending I didn’t know, that I didn’t notice.
But you know what, Mom? It was a really hard thing to do. It was probably unfair for you to ask. You probably have no idea how much I ached whenever you apologized to all of us for being unwell. Honestly, working a full-time job, looking after Dad and Manny, taking on the housework, and taking care of you from day to day – those things were not hard for me. Regardless of how exhausted I was, the time I spent feeding and bathing you, or rubbing your back, or holding your hand…each moment felt like a precious blessing. If you really think about it, it was nothing compared to all that you’ve done for me. But the most difficult part was that I always felt heartbroken over the fact that I couldn’t protect you, couldn’t take your place, and that there wasn’t much I could do for you at all. Those are the things that hurt the most.
Mom, I did a good job, right? I did my best to show you a brave, happy face to the end. Every once in a while, I could feel the grief and anguish about to rush out to the surface, but at least in front of you, I really tried to be tough. I didn’t think it would be right for you to hurt more because of me.
But Mom…do you think I can let go now? Can I let out these tears? To be honest, I’m not sure I can hold them in anymore. Today, when I go back to the house without you in it, when I look inside the fridge and spot the kimchi we made together, and when I touch the pillow you hugged so tightly to get through your pain while you prayed…I’m afraid that the tears might start pouring out and never stop…it’ll be too hard. But I can cry now, right?
After all, you’re no longer suffering. You’re in the presence of God, singing in a clear voice with a peaceful heart. I know He must have greeted you with, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” because you always did your absolute best in all things. If there’s one regret you might have left, I know it’s what you always said: that you wanted to be healed so you could spend the rest of your life testifying to God’s Grace. But Mom, you don’t have to worry. Although you’re no longer here, that testimony is still alive – in me, in Dad, in Manny, and in every person who has ever witnessed your life.
We’re going to make you a promise. We’re going to live to our fullest so that your testimony can become His glory. You can expect great things. If there’s one absolutely important thing you’ve taught me throughout my entire life, it’s to become a daughter of faith who knows and lives for the desires of her Father’s heart. You imparted this to me, not with loud words but with quiet deeds, with the very way you lived your life. I’m so thankful that He gave me a clear example to live by.
You know that every person gathered here really loves you, right? Granted, there are times when some of us caused you heartache, and there are many who regret not having been able to show you how much they cared when they had the chance. But you told me up to the very end that there was so much to be thankful for. You felt like you didn’t deserve such love. In all honesty, it’s always pained me to see that you always seemed to give-give-give without holding back while getting nothing in return. Because of this there were even times that I resented the people around you. But despite all those things, you were grateful for the immense love you felt, and this gratitude, I’m going to do my best to convey to everyone.
And Mom…we won’t cry too much – me, Dad, and Manny. We’re not going to be too sad. After all, we have to find strength soon and continue on the work you started. I personally don’t plan to hear any scolding from you for wasting my life when I see you later. No…we’re going to do marvelously well. We’ll do our best to be delightful in the Lord’s eyes, and to make you proud.
Mom, thank you so much. And I love you.
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