Through a Glass Window

December 6, 2017December 6, 2017Leave a comment

On Saturday, my sisters and I hosted our 6th annual holiday cookie party. It was our first without our mama, and every day leading up to the day, I thought about canceling. I thought it would be better to go without this year. Nothing feels the same without her and most things just make me miss her even more. My mom never made a cookie for our party, but she brought the best stuff, the tamales we always serve and Arroz con Leche (a rice drink somewhat similar to rice pudding). And if she couldn’t make it, she made sure her goodies always did.

Thanksgiving was over and the heaviness of it had lifted. And now the cookie party was giving me a little bit of anxiety. Where do we get the tamales from? Would it be ok if we cancel? Why did we send the invitations? Thankfully my sister was able to get us a fantastic contact and the tamales were delivered and were just as yummy. But the tamales were never the problem. It was her presence that I wanted so badly. The presence of love, joy and so much laughter you almost pee your pants (Nathan is going through this stage right now).

The cookies began to arrive and soon enough the house was full, all the christmas decorations were singing, blinking their lights, going round and round their tracks, and laughter filled the walls. It felt surreal. Physically I was very much present, but I felt like I was watching all this from a glass window. I could see my sisters laughing, tasting, and through their eyes I could see joy. It was a like the spirit of joy was going in and out, zig-zagging through each guest. My heart went from incompleteness to an incredible feeling of fulfillment. I walked in and out from the first living room, through the cookie room, right to the Christmas tree room, and every room was filled with laughter.

The night was perfect. The anxiety had vanished and had been replaced with heart warming love. I went home so full of love and joy, I felt it would burst from the seams. The best part was the feeling that mom was there, too. I felt like she was proud that my sisters and I continued something so simple yet hard to put together without her. She was proud that we opened our hearts and gave them the opportunity to fill with joy. She was proud that we chose to give joy a chance, when we could have easily cancelled it.

So this week started with a high and I hope it will end that way. I will choose to keep my heart open for now and remind myself of the goodness that will continue to fall upon me and my family, because now my mom is in heaven, and she, of course, sends extra joy down to her babies (grandkids included 😉 ).

The Thanksgiving Blues

November 27, 2017November 27, 20171 Comment

Mother’s Day 2016

I am glad this week is wrapping up. It has been full of low’s and high’s, and lots of tears. As a parent you can’t skip holidays, even if your heart is asking you to. My children love decorating and making our home feel warm and cozy. The last several months have made me feel like an actress, trying to convince my children that all is well. Pushing through the days full of activities and school engagements.

Thanksgiving 2016

Every year at our Thanksgiving dinner we go around the table randomly picking a colored M&M, telling everyone what we are thankful for given the category assigned to the colored chocolate. My mom was infamous. She always started with the category and then moved on to a speech on thankfulness. I can remember almost verbatim what she said last year. This year I searched my heart, and I knew I had millions things to be thankful for, yet I felt empty. I felt unthankful. I wasn’t given enough. This year came up short. By a lot. I was angry. I was disappointed. I was not very pleasant to be around. So, I avoided the chocolate aisle at the stores and focused on having a good time with the kids on their week off and training for our Turkey Trot in downtown LA.

Turkey Trot 2017

My heart asked me to go to our Thanksgiving church service Wednesday at noon, and although I wanted to give in, I found a list of reasons why I couldn’t go. But I mustered the courage to go against my distraught self. We were late but we made it. Elea went to the children’s nursery and Nathan went into the main sanctuary with me, as it was a special family service. We proceeded to sit all the way in the back. Physically my body was present, but my mind was going 100 miles a minute, inundated by thoughts. Then Nate tapped my leg and asked me what was on the screen.

Pastor Jeff was showing us pictures of the Universe, stars, and beauty that exists beyond our eyes. And then he proceeded to say the following, and I paraphrase:

What is man? So precious to Him that he sent Jesus to die for us.

He made the universe; but he’s thinking of you. All the rest, the beauty in galaxies, he does on his spare time. He is thinking of us.

He does all these things to awe us. He thinks about me. About my family. He collects my tears in a bottle. He is concerned with the details of my life. And yet he created the heavens. He is the same God that wants to take care of my needs. He has never not cared about me.

Before I was even born, he cared about me (Gills, 2017).

Emme photographed by Hannah Sons

Now, I know this to be true, just like I know I have so many things to be thankful for. But my heart needed to hear it and I needed to feel it. And in that moment I did. I kept reminding myself of it the rest of the week. I kept reminding myself of it every time I cried, as I started my Turkey Trot with tears in my eyes, as I sat around an amazing dinner table full of loved ones, and as I sit here now, missing my mama.

My heart

A Needle in a Haystack

November 7, 2017November 7, 2017Leave a comment

Birthday hike

Last week as we waited for the garage door to open, I decided to fix my crazy mom bun before we started our commute to Nate’s school. As I pulled my hair up, my ear tugged and I heard a clinking sound. I touched my ear and I immediately knew my earring had fallen off. Somehow my hair must have gotten caught between my ear and the earring clasp.

My everything

I searched the car for hours. Every crevice. Stuck my fingers in every little hole. Vacuumed with so much diligence with my handy-dandy see through mini dirt devil; to no avail. My diamond isn’t gone. I know where it is, at least the vicinity. I just can’t wear it.

My little explorers

Surprisingly, I don’t feel too bad about it because I’m ( weirdly) being comforted by the fact that I know where it is. And there is hope that one day, as I get in the car, something will sparkle and I will see it. And I will be overjoyed.

My girls

I like to believe that He is saving the find for a day where I’ll need an immense inflow of joy. I find myself believing it to be a truth; an event yet to take place.

This is hope. This is faith. Believing in the unseen. Believing that goodness will come. I’m choosing to hope, and I know I’m very good at hoping.

My rock of faith holding our redemption

💛 Happy Tuesday 💛

The Constant Drizzle

October 30, 2017October 30, 2017Leave a comment

There is a sense of responsibility I have, for you, my reader. I have been told I am a good story-teller ( live, that is). I think Lei gets her facial expressions from me. I can’t hide my emotions very well, and so, when story telling I can be extremely vivid. I very much love making people burst into laughter. I really enjoy making people feel good. It makes me happy. But this week, I have been struggling. Big time.

Every so often I find myself giving myself pep talks. You see, where as I am a strong advocate of choosing joy, it is not always the natural choice. I remind myself of all the goodness. The little miracles I see. But sometimes it does not suffice. I am left feeling cheated.

My birth anniversary is next week and instead of feeling excitement and celebration flutter, I find myself feeling bamboozled. And it is ok. It if perfectly normal, and justified, for me to feel cheated. I shared my entire life with my mother, and now I don’t get to share it with her at all. I would tell my mom the silliest things that happened to me, because for some reason, funny and weird things happen to me all the time. And she would laugh, a lot, or tell me in her serious voice that she couldn’t believe it, ” Ay no, Lita.” I don’t know whether she believed me all the time, because sometimes I would act it out so dramatically that I would burst into laughing spells. I thoroughly enjoyed hearing my mother laugh out loud.

My Mother’s Heart

We had a terrible heat wave earlier this week in Los Angeles. It was HOT. Miserably hot. And as I drove into the garage from Lei’s school, I found myself picking up my phone to dial my Mom. I was going to tell her how miserable I felt and how the heat wasn’t helping. I parked, turned the engine off, and cried. It’s incredible how you notice every void left behind. It is even more incredible to see how much of my life was filled by the joy my mother gave me. Her constant words of encouragement and the words that stung when spoken.

Love

It is hard for my heart to understand how life keeps moving when such a huge part of it is gone. I wish I could say it is easier this time around. I was recently asked how I do it. How do I keep moving forward? I wish I had an answer for you. I wish I could tell you that I simply eat a lot of kale and that makes it happen for me. Jesus helps me a lot. A lot, a lot ( as Lei would say). I find it so filling to list all the things I am hurt by, disappointed by, and am completely angry about and to let Jesus know. I tell him what I feel (the days I can muster words) and let him know that I am angry and that I don’t think I can get it together that day. So I carry the anger, the hurt, the pain around for as long as I think I can carry it and then I hand it over to him. I find Him much better at dealing with all the baggage. He always takes it, but I pick it up again.

Papa and Lei

At the beginning of the post I wrote about honesty and responsibility. This is my point in this round about post, I have hardly felt ok the past 5 months. I work extremely hard on smiling every day and choosing joy. I have reminders on my phone, in the bathroom mirror, and in every corner of my brain. Reminders that I can and will feel joy come to me without so much work. I have to remind myself to be gentle and kind with myself. To embrace every emotion and not stuff it in the closet. I am a work in progress and my brokeness is being molded. Whatever your brokeness may be, I hope you know you can face it all with Jesus. He takes baby steps, I should know, because He is taking them with me, again. This season will have its end.

My Mother’s Joy

Heart Made Whole

July 15, 2017July 15, 2017Leave a comment

Today I let it all out as I drove. It wasn’t my intention but before I knew it, the trickle of tears turned into a waterfall. It is a mixture of anger and disappointment. I am angry at this horrible disease that preys upon people. No one “loses” a battle against cancer. It is not possible. It is not a battle when we are not given the tools to be able to fight fairly. Yet, cancer affects so many people, and brave they are for giving it there all.

I am disappointed that I wasn’t able to decide how my mom’s life would end. I prayed. I pleaded with God. I called upon him to do something. I got angry, then cried. Then, I did it all over again. No matter how things looked, my heart remained still, just like my mothers. We stood beside her, believing. But my miracle didn’t portray itself the way I expected.

In my experience with grief, the emotions are always unpredictable and I never know what will be a trigger for me. But today, as I drove, I realized that I have been coping by not thinking about it. And although it may be difficult for you to understand, I’ve been waiting for my mom to walk through my door. If I sit in my living room, I can look outside and see her sliding down the jungle gym slide, with her huge smile, holding on tightly to Nate and Aria. When I get in her car, I can hold my breath, as I wait for her to open the door and slide into the passenger seat. I can hear her say, “Ay, Lita” to something we both find peculiar. It takes a couple seconds for my heart to realize she won’t be coming in.

My feelings are justified. Every single feeling. Often times, society expects one to “recover” from the loss of a loved one but after such an immense loss, is it a fair expectation to expect anyone to ever go back to the person they were? Years ago I wrote a piece on the process of being broken and repaired with gold (Kintsukuroi). This gift, of being able to repair a piece with gold and make it more beautiful then it was to begin with, is difficult to do, but it is quite the sight. Its brokeness, once thought to be the end, only increased its value.

I can see the melted gold, moving slowly like lava, filling every crevasse, every hole, every crack, mending even the tiniest fracture. There isn’t anything more perfect than gold- a precious element not vulnarable to oxidation or corrosion. God is my gold. Jesus is my gold. The Holy Spirit is my gold. And though I can’t feel the precious yellow metallic element moving through my brokeness, I know it is there and it is coming. I await its eruption onto my broken soul. There is no doubt in my mind that I will be made whole, again.

Dreams

June 19, 2017June 29, 2017Leave a comment

Nathan celebrating gold in his school olympics

We all dream about things we want to do and who we see ourselves around when fulfilling those dreams. Actually, most of the time we don’t even question who we would be around during those precious moments in our lives, we just assume that they will be there. Dreams keep us going. They are our goals. We strive towards them every day, wanting to make someone proud, fulfilling our own desires, or simply moving towards something different. But what do you do when your dreams are shattered? What happens when your rock is gone? When everything seizes to exist the way it should and time gets cut too short?

Aside from crying a lot, wishing time would rewind and praying every second you can- I’m not sure what else you can do. Nothing feels right and everything feels incomplete. But you take baby steps forward, because you must.

Me & Mami 1988

And this is what I’m re-learning once again. Dreams are not abandoned. They never disappear. They must simply be tweeked due to unexpected changes. The problem is, most of the unexpected changes leave us not wanting to go on. Those dreams now seem fruitless, because the joy in them doesn’t quite feel the same.

Mother’s Day 2016

I was recently gifted a key with the word DREAM engraved in it. My dearest sister wanted to remind me that our dreams must go on, even if everything feels broken. Our mother was our encourager, she loved watching us grow into new roles and would push us forward every time we wanted to throw in the towel.

Crossing the finish line

Seattle glass museum

We did it!

I was in Seattle this past weekend, running a race with my sister. And surprisingly, while I ran I felt great, better than any other time, even though I had ran very little since my mother went home. I had to hold back tears during the last leg of the race because I could feel my mother with me, cheering me on, telling me I could finish strong. And I did, I beat my previous time and felt full of joy. I was proud for doing something I had no desire to do. Honestly, I wanted to stay in our beautiful airbnb and have a pity party with the gloomy Seattle weather.

Nana & Nene Fall 2016

My Mother is not gone, her presence is just different now. And while nothing will ever be the same, things will be good, it will feel great again, perhaps not the way I thought it would; but it will. I know it. And even if I don’t believe it now, I will continue to confess it over myself, until I not only believe, but know it to be true.

On Heart Break

May 12, 2017May 12, 20171 Comment

Let me tell you a story…

A girl was given a carrot, a coffee bean and an egg. They were placed in boiling water and then the girl was asked what would come of them. The carrot came in strong and quickly turned soft. Unable to stay in the battle. The egg hardened, its heart filling with bitterness. The coffee bean changed its atmosphere, instead of allowing the storm to change it. It released its goodness onto the water, not losing itself.

What do you do when your heart is broken into a thousand pieces? Some seasons of our life will be extremely difficult, they will even feel unbearable. You will feel like you can’t be placed back together and perhaps this one storm will feel like the last one you’ll be able to endure. This one will break you. But don’t give in. Don’t let it change you. Don’t allow the storm to harden your heart or to soften your grip. When you feel like you can’t, He will breathe upon your life and you will receive renewed strength.

Sometimes in the midst of the storm, we can’t see the blessings. We can’t see His hand softening our fall. We can’t see how this moment, too, shall expose hope.

My heart is broken. Shattered. Today I feel lost. Words fall short. It is difficult to see the light. It feels as though someone is closing the curtains and I can’t seem to get them to stop. I could cry a river and at the same time there is nothing left because I already filled an ocean.

But I will keep confessing His goodness over me and my entire family because He is good and His promises are not empty. I will be the coffee bean because my mother was a coffee bean and she changed her atmosphere in the midst of hot waters and storms. She never allowed the storm to overtake her. In fact, she showed others how they could see the light in their storm.

So today, I will decide to actively choose joy, dig deep for it, beyond the heartache and loss. I will change my atmosphere, I will not allow the circumstance to change me.

When Life Blooms

April 6, 2017April 6, 2017Leave a comment

Entwined: Mama and Emme Art by Kathy Bauer

A week ago, anticipating today, I sat in my living room having a moment. I ran through every detail to ensure I still remembered. I ran my fingers up and down Emme’s c-section scar ensuring it was real. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real. Sometimes it feels like she’s going to run in and say something silly, as any 3 year old would. I thought about what she’d want her birthday theme to be. I thought about how I would, as always, plan for a small party but end up with a carnival.

Loss. It felt so heavy.

And then Life knocked at my door. As I cried in silence unable to open her box to inhale her smell again, to touch the hair the NICU nurses so gently packed for me, to fold and re-fold the baby clothes she wore for such a short period of time, I heard Nate’s butterfly begin to bat her wings, practicing as she broke through her chrysalis and embraced her new body. Charlie (our almost 2 year old turtle) began to chirp. I could hear the birds outside. In my sorrow, I heard life. There are no words to describe what I felt, but in that moment it was as if I was being told that life was blooming all around me, everywhere, all I had to do was silence my heart and listen.

The chrysalis

The anticipation of Easter has been hard the last couple years. I always felt so betrayed by it. Here comes spring and everything is blooming and there I am, mourning. I will never stop mourning; feeling extremely sad that I wasn’t able to live my life the way I would have liked with Emme. But this year I see life. I see it breaking through. The heaviness surrounds me but it’s not hopeless. No, it is not hopeless.

My Joy

Today Nate got to decide the flavor of Emme’s birthday cake, mama and Lei sang, and we all got to send Emme heavenly kisses.

To the heavens :*

The Unexpected Encounter

February 17, 2017Leave a comment

Nathan’s preschool teacher has been sick the entire week and thus we’ve had substitutes every day. I walked into his classroom today hoping she was back, but instead the air was knocked out of me. My hands began to shake the way they do when I have too much caffeine. I squeezed Elea closer to my chest and hoped no one could see the sweat that was starting to form as my body burned. In a blink of an eye, it was Spring 2014. My knees shook and it took all the strength I could muster up to keep me from falling over.

Elea and Mama

Nathan’s substitute for the day was his old teacher, the teacher that held my hand through emails and gentle questions. She encouraged me at a hopeless time. When Emme passed, the last thing I wanted to do was take Nathan to all his classes. I felt ashamed. I felt as though I had failed my daughter. My body had failed to be a safe home for her. I had failed at giving her life. And although I know this is all wrong and completely false, these feelings overpowered me for a long time. I felt worthless.

Mama, Papa, Nathan, Emme’s Bear and Elea in the belly

His teacher emailed me and every time I had the courage to come to class, she always greeted me and Nathan with love. I remember trying to pick up where I left off because Nathan needed his mother, but every time I walked into his school, all I could think about were the things everyone else was thinking. Feeling sorry for me and avoiding me. I now understand that they avoided me because there was nothing good enough to say to a grieving mother whose eyes looked like they were on a short pause from crying. Those days were shattering for me. But I never forgot her because every time I walked in there, it was like she knew and she held my hand through the rest of the school year.

Love

This morning, our eyes met and I knew she remembered. We talked about Nathan but neither one of us had the courage to go back. I wanted nothing more than to give her a big hug and let her know how vital she was to my survival, but I couldn’t. My voice immediately cracked, my eyes filled and my body weakened. I couldn’t say thank you.

I’m not beating myself up about it. Like I have said before, grief is like the ocean waves, you never know which wave will knock you down, but you must get up, over and over again. I truly hope she knows what a beautiful person she is and how her kindness still inspires me. And next time, I hope I can get a step closer to telling her.

xoxo

When Your Heart Skips a Beat

September 9, 2016September 9, 2016Leave a comment

When you love so deeply you share your boba

Yesterday was Nathan’s school orientation. He is officially starting Pre-School on Monday. My day was full of anxiety and I could not figure out what it was. All I knew was that I didn’t want to go to orientation. My eyes teared up about everything and I couldn’t keep myself from crying. But why? I had such a perfect day with the kids. We enjoyed our library filled morning, followed by Farmer’s Market shenanigans. And our ultimate favorite- boba drinking with some dancing. We napped snuggled up together and the kids ate dinner without any massive toddler breakdowns. And as the time approached for me to go- it happened. The big question kept atacking me and I answered it a thousand times. Over and over and each time the answer was different. And sometimes I couldn’t get through the answer.

The question is always the same. My answer- it always wavers.

How many children do you have? how many siblings does your child attending the school have? How many other children attend the school? …and then the hard part. What do I say? Do I say the truth? A version of the truth? People will feel bad. People will be uncomfortable.

And this is just the beginning of the questions and turmoil that goes on in my heart. It is not enough that I lost my daughter and that when most families go back to school with every child they have birthed, I am missing one. So instead of going back to school with three, I go back with two. The hole is left open. The waves come a little quicker. The scab begins to peel.

It’s always such a struggle with my heart, not because I am scared of the possible reactions but because I remember early on how much I always felt like I betrayed her with every answer. No answer was ever good enough. Every answer left me feeling unfulfilled. But after the meeting yesterday, I decided that no answer will ever be the right answer because what happened was wrong. My little family, we try our best every day to experience joy, after all, Eric and I have been blessed with two amazing children. But our lives will never be the same.

I will proabably have anxiety about backto school nights for the rest of my life. And I can live with that. Grief is not a step to get through. It is something that a parent without their child will always experience. Sometimes it hurts so bad you can feel it in your bones, and other times it presents itself gently; leaving love and smiles behind. So as I walk in this coming Monday, with my first born’s hand nicely intertwined in mine, I will squeeze harder when tears want to flow down and love this moment for what it is because even though I don’t get to walk Emme into her class and have her run after me in fear that I will leave, I am blessed to do it with Nate and Elea.

Confessions of a Wife, Mother & Cook

Category: Grief