It's graduation season. My 5 year-old AJ is going to be crossing his first educational milestone in a mere short 3 days from now. I'm both excited and exhausted to acknowledge the fact that I have a 5 year-old who will be starting Kindergarten in less than 3 months. Where. Did. The. Time. Go. It's not a huge deal or anything - the invitation is haphazardly pinned to our refrigerator, right on top of the impromptu pasta night menu jotted in red pen, a short distance from his Popo's painting that we lovingly turned into a Christmas card.
I glance over at the fridge, and I both smile and cry a little bit inside. She would have been so proud of him. She would have clapped the loudest in the back of the room when he walked across the stage. She'd be dressed in her usual purple Columbia jacket and blue Sketchers slip-ons, clutching a bag hiding some of his favorite snacks. And no doubt, she'd treat him to Sweet Tomato afterwards, for a "graduation" dinner because, in her own words, "wow, what a good boy!"
This is how she lives on now. In my memory, in my imagination. In my thoughts. When I need her the most, this is what I can make her do. Appear to me in my head, and in the words that flow out of my fingertips.
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Thoughts are just that. Because reality takes over, and it's cold and deafening. A lot has changed, since she died. I wish she knew. I wish that she knew how hard it was this last year without her. I wish she knew how parenting a 5 year old was somehow even more difficult than parenting a 4 year-old (of course she knows that). I wish she knew what I built for myself at work. She'd be smiling nervously at my accomplishments while chastising me about not working so hard. I wish she knew that I've tried everything to fix Dad, but that I don't think I can do it, not without her. I wish she knew that there are days when I don't want to get out of bed, because the reality is crushing, and none of the words of encouragement come as sweet as hers - but I have to, and that's my reality.
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Life with two kids 5 and under is...well, chaotic, sleepless, exhilarating, exhausting, you name it. There are days when I feel like a shell of a person - I think about what it was that I used to do 6 years ago, pre-kids for fun, and for the love of God, I cannot name a single thing. Not a single thing. Not sure if it's the mom-brain, or just a sad realization that whatever I used to do 6 years ago no longer is fun/cool/available. but the fact remains that my brain chooses not to acknowledge a pre-me self. Which is fine. I think most moms of young kids can relate - the self kind of disappears at some point with young kids, that's just a sad reality.
Moms give up a lot. We lose a lot of our selves. And almost always, we do this voluntarily and don't ask for much in return. Sometime after I because a mom, I realized this - and an instant appreciation for my Mom blossomed. She must have realized that I figured that out too. Because my mom - the same mom who Tiger mom'd me into becoming a 4.0 piano-competing stereotypical asian female pharmacist - loosened up the reigns a bit and started telling me that "It's OK. You're doing a good job."
I miss hearing that.
SO MUCH.
I also equally hate that I don't believe that about myself, no matter how many times I try to say it out loud for myself to hear.
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Some time ago. I read a kind of bullshit article from someone about things that happen when you're a mom, in your 30's. Every single sentence of the article resonated with me, until I got to this one:
"you'll realize that you need your Mom"
At that very moment, I wanted to find a phone number to the author of this article, and call her, and ask her if her mom if her mom was dead. Not to gain an answer from her, but to simply hurt her to her core with words. Which is what she did to me that day.
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Anger, sadness, envy, loneliness, stress, anxiety, and regret are all emotions that I experience on a daily basis now. Some days more than others.
But those aren't the only ones. Happiness, content, joy, excitement, relief live on too, sometimes in my imagination, sometimes in my reality. Sometimes I choose to let the imagination and the reality mingle, and I'm OK with it.
Father's day is coming up. But it's an extremely special week this year. Sunday is Father's day. Monday is my Dad's lunar birthday, and Tuesday is his actually birthday. That triple coincidence is something that no doubt, my mom would have picked up on. Today, they would have gathered all the ingredients from the Chinese store to make their annual Jong recipe. The house would be filled with the fragrant aromas of steamed banana leaf. There'd be a large cauldron of neatly wrapped "packages" boiling in the garage. My mom would be wearing the purple checkered apron that I made for her in high school - the one with "I love Mom" glue on with hot glue to the front. The two of them would snap a photo, a selfie maybe - a new skill that my Dad would have perfected while sitting at the dining room table in front of their ingredients.
There'd be a new WeChat message waiting for me to open, from my mom. Her icon featuring herself beaming at those looking at her. She wouldn't have to say it, but her smile would say it all.
Everything I wanted to hear from her.
