Bacon Is My Enemy » gomo

She Was A Pistol

Giyen — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 22:20:07 +0000

My Aunt died last Thursday evening. I did not find out till late Sunday evening on my way back from a holiday in Vancouver, Canada. I was not able to attend the Memorial Service because I was still out of the country.

My Aunt did things her way. She left her homeland of Korea in order to escape the mediocrity of what she thought her life would become if she stayed there. She was strong willed, opinionated and often times sharp tongued. This probably would have ended up disastrous for her if she ended up becoming a traditional Korean housewife. She wasn’t one to mince words or take direction.

She came to America with hopes of a better life – like all immigrants who are brave enough to leave everything that they know. Sadly, things did not happen as she had planned – there was divorce, heartache, complacency and disappointment. Nonetheless, she swallowed her own bitterness and poured much of her efforts into helping to raise my brother, sister and I. She treated us like her own and gave me the only motherly love that I knew.

It was hard to see her in those last days. Though she was lucid, she was in great pain at times. One of the last things that she said to me was, “You’re beautiful.” If you knew her, you’d know that compliment rarely passed through her lips. She was critical at times and that was the only time that I have ever recalled her saying something like this ever. I’ll never forget it.

When I last saw her, she was asleep from the morphine used to ease her pain. I never got to say that last goodbye before I left. I never got to say, “I love you” one last time. It’s hard to think about.

*****

I turned 35 today. Yep, it’s my birthday and I am grieving. Today I could give a fuck about what the scale says or if I make it as a writer or if I get anything accomplished. I can hardly write. I can hardly breathe.

Today, I am going to feel bad, because it feels bad right now.

But tomorrow will be different and I am looking forward to it.

Live Big

Giyen — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 15:37:10 +0000

As you can tell, I was just born to be famous. I had the haircut of the moment (hello Dorthy Hamill ) and a fur-rimmed jacket that even J.Lo would envy. And check out the hand in one pocket, so pimp!

This picture was taken at the Shore Acres Botanical Gardens in Coos Bay, Oregon. I used to think this place was magical, especially around Christmas when they would place festive lights all around the gardens. I haven’t been back to Coos Bay since my sister Gina and I had to transition my aunt and uncle into a nursing home facility back in 2006. My uncle was pushing 100 and my aunt had a debilitating stroke. They never had any kids so it was all left to the nieces and nephews to deal with the situation.

I’ll never forget how hard it was to pack the contents of their house. We had to throw away so much junk -30 years worth of it. If they had something in the house, they had two broken ones in the basement. And we would find really odd things like the ziploc bags full of hundreds of small ramen noodle seasoning packets stored in the kitchen cupboards. My aunt only used a half a packet and saved the extras for later. You know, just in case.

The two of them had few things of value. Just the antique Korean lacquer furniture and some pieces of gaudy jewelry. What they had was important to them. My uncle had a lazyboy recliner that was so well loved that if someone else sat in it, it wouldn’t feel right. He slept, read and ate in that thing and took it to the nursing home with him. My aunt on the other hand had about 20 different plastic combs to fluff up her frizzy grey hair and when my sister threw them all out, save for one – let’s just say it wasn’t a pretty day.

The deconstruction of someone’s life into two boxes and some personal effects is a sobering. It makes you realize that you should really divert your energy into having big experiences, not lots of things. Because in the end you can’t take it with you and you don’t want to be lamenting the loss of a blue comb.