Forty more years

I haven’t seen my grandmother all week. She’s been sick and everyone’s been afraid coming to the services, to our house, to the grave, would be too much for her. My uncle says sometimes she seems far away, then she comes back to and is distraught. They go out to search for her and she’s way at the back of her property, feeling her grief. I feel so sad for her, but I have my own grief and I don’t know how to help her. This is the fourth child she’s lost. She’s 97. I thought I’d have my mom for another forty years to love her and make her proud of me. I thought I’d have her until I grew old. I thought it was plenty of time for us to grow closer, to get to know each other better. I thought she’d always be there for me. I don’t know how to deal with this. What am I supposed to be doing?

I’m home now and alone again for the first time in over a week. I feel lost when I’m alone. I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to be doing. I babied my plants when I first got home before Frank left. And after he left, alone for the first time in ages, I cried, then pulled myself off the couch and tried to figure out what I should be doing. I dug through old photo albums and cried over them. I don’t have enough photos of her. I’ve been such a selfish child. I dragged out the graduation purse she gave me after college. The gift I thought was so impractical. I haven’t seen it for ages; it seems to suit me more than I once thought it did. I can’t find the jammies she bought me for Christmas. I’ve been wanting to wear them and I don’t understand where I could have possibly put them. I can’t find them anywhere and it’s drivng me nuts.

Today, I went to my aunt and uncle’s church. My aunts and uncles have been so wonderful and so helpful. This aunt and uncle arranged the pastor for the church service and the reception meals after both services. I don’t think I could’ve handled arranging all that. My aunt’s going to help with the Thank You cards for the church members. We had lunch with them after the service. It was in Korean. I didn’t understand it, but they were warm and welcoming.

We had a picnic at my mom’s grave today. It’s tradition to gather at the grave three days after the funeral. The funeral was Friday. I guess they count the day of the funeral as one of the days. I miss her. I don’t know how I’m going to go to work tomorrow. It seems so meaningless.

Mom in Korea, 1969

The OC Register obituary notice for Sharon Ahn. I swear we looked on the 24th, but didn’t see it. Jess found it the other day.

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