Today.

Every fall I am again amazed by the passage of time.

This October 16, Mom's been gone for 3 years and it seems like all of a sudden I'm married and in law school and living in New Hampshire and thinking about moving to California.

I have no real insights to add this year, nor did I have insights last year.

Perhaps my only one is that it's exhausting to never be able to stop missing somebody.

Mom, I love you and miss you. Kory is doing well as replacement mom, but he's not as pretty as you were.

I wear your absurd wedding ring everyday.

I carry your heart in my heart.

Two years ago, I wrote this.

October 16, 2008

The day came and went, and it was remarkably like any other day.

My mood waxed and waned, and it was remarkably like any other day.

All over the world, people went about their business, and it was remarkably like any other day.

Last Thursday marked one year.

Do I have to say more than that?

I had been depressed most of Monday. Too much time alone leads to too much thinking leads to existential crisis and despair.

I passed by the bench I was at when I first found out that she had cancer. I sat on that bench for hours, crying, and here I was, back on that goddamn bench, crying.

Sometimes, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

I thought of all The Lasts: The Last Time I Spoke to Her, The Last Time I Spoke to Her And She Spoke Back. The Last Time I Hugged Her, The Last Time I Hugged Her And She Hugged Back, The Last Time Her Eyes Were Open, The Last Time I Watched Her Cook Dinner, The Last TV Show We Watched Together, The Last Time She Stood On the Driveway and Waved Goodbye to Me as I Backed Out. This list could go on forever.

The more mundane the memory, the better.

Thursday arrived, as promised. No amount of personal anguish stops the steady march of time.

I was fine until 10:30, which is the first time I cried that day.

I didn't cry because I missed my mom, which I do.

I didn’t cry because I felt like an orphan, which sometimes I do.

I didn't cry because the world is a dark uncertain place, which sometimes it is.

I cried because of two text messages I got about my plans for the day. I cried from joy.

One was from Tim, the guy I’ve been seeing and it said: “Morning, sweetie. I hope whatever it is you have planned today turns out the way you need it to. I’ll be thinking about you all day. Xoxo.”

One was from Sameen, my hetero life partner and it said: “What do you think about today? Do you want me to come with?”

The former made me cry because it’s filled with the promise of a new relationship, the thrill that someone out there is thinking of you and your well being, and the realization that someone really cares for you, even though you just met them. It's a warm feeling that anyone is lucky to have.

The latter made me cry because in that instant, I realized that if she wasn’t in my life, I would have killed myself long ago. When I went through everything, it wasn’t just me alone, she was experiencing them all with me in a way that no one else did. The constant phone call updates that I would relay, the first real conversations I had about the possibility Mom would die, the question, "Do I pack black clothes?," the support to change life paths, she was the first person I called after it happened. It’s a simple text fraught with personal meaning and understanding and warmth.

The only way I can describe the rest of my day is to preface it with this statement: It was like I was a character undergoing catharsis in a novel.

I left work at about 12:30 and took a long walk home without my glasses on, just thinking, internalizing, ruminating. At the very moment I reached my apartment, it started raining.

I cried in the shower for an hour. I shivered, I was scalded, I sat in the bathtub sobbing. Moments of calm interspersed with hysterical crying, presented in a way only bathroom acoustics can provide.

I died in that tub, and the water washed it away.

A voice in my head simply said, "Enough." And it was.

I went up to a Buddhist temple in Cambridge, lit three sticks of incense, paid my respects, and just talked to mom for an hour.

I took another long walk to finish my day, and I did something I knew I wanted to do for a long time, but wasn't too sure of in the past.

It's deeply personal, and while a few very dear people in my life do know about it, I'd rather not discuss it. Even I have my blog limits.

The minute I left to go home, I said to myself, Today is a New Day, and so is Tomorrow. You can Do It, and you're doing it Right Now. And You Are Doing Okay.

It was only one day, one day of 365 that she's been gone, but it was very important to me. It illuminated a lot... a lot of different things, some greatly outside the scope of her passing.

Only two people let me know they were thinking about me on Thursday. Not that I expected everyone I've ever met to send a "I'm sorry yer Ma's dead" text, or email, or phone call, but it's a strange feeling to think that the people who used to be the closest to you are wrapped up in their own lives and jobs and responsibilities, and that Thursday was just another Thursday, instead of being THE Thursday. Some I didn't expect anything from, but some... some really hurt.

But that's the Nature of loss, and grief. It is truly no one's but your own. I was incredibly touched by the two people who did take that one minute out of their day. One came from someone who I can't say I expected to hear from, but who I know can relate with me in the worst way possible. The other, someone I love and miss, who I know will always be there.

Yes, I do get by with a little help from my friends, but at the end of the day, if most of that isn't from myself, then it doesn't work.

I think I had the best day I could possibly have had on Thursday. The dizzying highs, the terrifying lows, the existential crisis, the long walks, the baptism, the pain, oh dear God, the pain, the catharsis, the beginning of a resolution, the healing, the future.

I ended my day by having a nice dinner with Tim and then falling asleep to the Red Sox game. An ordinary ending to a really big day.

I'd have it no other way.

Two and a half years ago, I wrote this.

April 14, 2008

When mom died, a lot of people told me that I was lucky, that she was lucky, because it had happened so fast and she didn't suffer much. I generally agreed with that sentiment at the time, but the more I think about it, the more I want to say, what about all the things I was supposed to learn from her? What about all those family stories I needed to be told about one more time? What about the things I was supposed to teach my own children? What about that one dish that you always made that I loved - how did that go again? What about those things that only mothers know about their own children? Will anyone know those things about me again? What? What? Why? WHY?

An exercise in futility and frustration.

The last time I saw my mom alive, it was right before dad was going to drive me to the airport to go back to Boston. It was early morning and she was sitting up in her hospital room looking out the window. I remember thinking how sad she looked, and if she was surveying her life.

When I flew home to say my goodbyes, I accidentally caught the middle knuckle of my right hand on something and caused a small nick. The scar is still there today. Sometimes I look at it and imagine that it is the cause of all my misfortunes.

I saw and I felt so much in those few days. Mostly things I did not want to see or feel. We laughed, we cried, we cried so hard we had to laugh, we laughed so hard we had to cry. We questioned, we accepted, we murmured, we graciously accepted condolences. We yelled, we screamed, I begged God, I became pious, I renounced God. We ate, we slept, we pissed, we shat, we were normal. And still, she died.

Man is born, Man lives, Man dies.

I was recently reading "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close" by Jonathan Safran Foer and one of the characters said something that resonated with me.

"That night I told her what I had seen. She made me promise never to speak a word about it. I promised her. She said, Why should I believe you?
I wanted to tell her, Because what I saw would no longer be mine if I talked about it."

I saw so many things I would never wish for anyone else to see or experience and now its inside of me, festering, eating away at me, preying on my sanity, my own mental cancer. It's mine. And I need to get it out. I have so much I want to say, so much I want to share, but I find myself unable.

I'm trying. I'm trying to get it all out. Put it down on paper, put it in cyberspace. This is real. This happened. Deal with it. So I write on here. God knows who reads it. Getting the phrases "When my mom died," "My mom died," "My mother is dead." into my head, into my mouth, rolling off of my tongue. Guess why, Michelle. It happened.

I listen to music, I cry, I ride public transportation, I write, I deal, I think, I ruminate, I stew.

I tell myself: It will be OK.

Will it?

Yes, Michelle, it will.

You will be OK.

Will I?

Three years ago, I wrote this.

October 15, 2007

It was a ten days ago that I was back at home. My mom had had a minor heart spasm, and was getting a cyst removed. Nothing scary, but a bit worrying. It was a week ago that I was wrapping my head around the fact that my mother was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer that had spread to her brain and lymph nodes and she was starting radiation. Right now, I am wrapping my head around the fact that she will be gone within the week. Day? Hour? I can't be sure.

I don't know what I'm feeling anymore. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. Crying. The crying is pretty much a constant state. I'm angry, confused, and overwhelmed with a feeling that life isn't fair. What a surprise. Life sucks.

We're in 4 West, the oncology unit. We started just across the hall, in 4 East telemetry, two weeks ago. In 4 West, the nurses are nicer, and tell you things like how they believe in "making her as comfortable as possible" and that you don't have to follow visiting hours. Our nurse found us extra pillows and a recliner. No one else here has visitors that stay the night, most people are here from nursing homes.

I feel like a string of improbables brought my family to where we are today. An enlarged lymph node on her collarbone that resulted in her getting sick from a rare IV dye reaction. A dose of medication that was too strong for her, which made her feel terrible. A heart spasm brought on by that stress. An abnormal lymph node biopsy that lead to another CT and an MRI that revealed stage 4 lung cancer, with metastasis to the brain and lymph. Disseminated intravascular coagulation caused by the adenocarcinoma which caused bleeding problems with her biopsy site, her PICC line, and eventually caused a stroke. Can't treat the cancer because of the DIC, so her lungs are filling up with fluid. Can't cure the DIC because it's caused by the cancer. I saw her have a seizure tonight.

My mother was.. well, she was my mother. I love her. What a stupid thing to say. Of course I love her. I spoke to her last Wednesday, and she was her normal self. We talked about how I saw Hillary Clinton speak and who she was going to vote next year. She yelled at me for having a cold, and told me that I should wear scarves more often. We talked about how when she got better, we would all take a trip to Europe. She had always planned on going to Europe when she retired.

I miss her. I might miss her more now then when she's gone. I can see her now. And she's my mom. My little mommy. And she's not there anymore. She looks at you, but she's not looking at you. She shifts restlessly. She doesn't hear you anymore. She's just so tired and her brow is always furrowed. I keep expecting her to say something, or do something, but, well, its just not going to happen ever again.

We moved out of the ICU ever since her doctor told us that she just wasn't going to survive this. Its not like we expected her to pull through and still be mom, its just that when a doctor makes it a point to tell you, well... shit just got realer. They stopped giving her IV fluids, took her off all the monitoring equipment, stopped the regular plasma and cryo she was getting to replace her clotting factors, stopped drawing blood from her, and started giving her morphine. At this point, its all about comfort. End of the line.

So now, we wait. Won't be long now.

Hypercaffeinated thoughts

Well, it was time for our daily trip to Starbucks and I decided that instead of an iced coffee I would get an Iced Americano with an extra shot. Four shots of espresso later, I feel like I can barely contain my blood within my veins. So what better time that now to ramble for a little bit? Certainly, there is much work to be done, but the crayon rings are packed and I shouldn't be let near a sewing machine in this state.

Timsters and I were in NYC last weekend, and it was overwhelming. Even being in Boston can be overwhelming these days. We had a vision of our future and it's most likely set in a remote part of Maine. New Hampshire turned us into country people.

I was thinking about how Tim, and all of the people who I met/saw this weekend are makers (like vampire Bill in True Blood, am I right???) and they just assume that everyone else makes something too, when in reality, most normal people don't make anything. Makers have always impressed me. Like when I first met Sameen and she had a purse that she crocheted herself. I mean, thats impressive. Point being, I've never been a maker, and now Tim's kinda got me into the mindset that basically anything you see, you can make yourself. It's a slippery slope (see: Tim deciding he could rebuild a whole van in two months).

I made a 15 minute quilted iPad case last night and although yes, I will probably be making a more polished one, this one serves the purpose quite well. It's weird for me to think that I can make things on the sewing machine now.

And yes, I bought an iPad. And yes, it's just like a giant iPhone that can't make calls. And yes, it's awesome. Unfortunately, one of its main functions is to help facilitate studying for the patent bar. Booooo-urns.

Can you believe LOST is ending? We've been together since 2004, doesn't that MEAN anything to you, LOST?? Also, upsetting that characters keep dying at an alarming rate.

Okay, Mr Madman Timmy needs van help so I gotta laser outta here PEWWWWWWWW


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Ma's Day

To my mother:

Thanks for everything, I love you.

Wish you could see how things are coming together.

I miss you every day.

Yayyyyy!

Time is flying by. We leave May 13th!

Forgot about the Steve Powers murals in Philadelphia and remembered them today and got super excited to see them in person :)

A Love Letter for You

This excitement reminded me that one of my favorite artists, Kelsey Brookes, is based in San Diego, but no current shows :(

I can't afford either artist's original works but prints are fair game.

I already have a Kelsey print from RVCA, but now I'm saving up for an Espo print...

It's only 99 Pounds! ... only?

Ahhhh my brain is too excited right now

No compromises works! (maybe)

One thing I learned from Tim was that sometimes you have to throw a tantrum.

Through a variety of mistakes (theirs) and my penchant for last minute EVERYTHING, I was going to be short 5 yards of fabric for the van quilt I'm making.

While letting the news sink in, I put on makeup to calm me down. Ugh, I'm such a girl.

I went outside to tell Tim the quilt wouldn't be done and then threw a tantrum about how I didn't want to change anything and that's that.

I went inside, felt better, and called the fabric company for more information on who sells this particular fabric.

They directed me to a place in Oregon, I gave them a ring, confirmed the fabric by checking the color of the selvage edge (maroon/pink, NOT blue), gave them my debit card number, and that was that.

Thanks tantrum, and thanks VISA.

I'm exhausted now.

APRIL??!?

Well, one indication that you haven't been up to date on your blog is that when you go to type in the address, you type tha guache life instead of the gauche life. My b. Although, Tha Guache Life does have a ring to it...

By the way, it's the middle of April, how did that happen???

Athens was good and Santorini was better, but I'll be honest with you, I don't forsee another trip to the Hellenic area. On Santorini, you get to ride ATVs on the road. ITS THE BEST.

Here's a picture of me with a dog that followed us from Syntagma / Parliament to Lycabettus Hill. I wanted to take him home :(



We even visited some young Greek designers at Greece is for Lovers and bought some souvenirs. Heh heh heh.

I was home for a few short days, and then I was off on a Caribbean cruise with JP, Jaclyn, Craig, and Rob. It was glorious and I got five years worth of Vitamin D. We went fishing, touched sea turtles, snorkeled, got seasick, got sunburned, went river tubing, swam in an Emerald Pool, sang an amazing rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody, had the BEST hot sauce, and in general, loved life.

I can't wait to get back on an island and spend some real time there... <3 you, Caribbean.

And now, now our days are filled with trip planning and quilt making. Timmy has been working like a crazy man and you can often hear loud noises and swear words emanating from Vanpira. She's looking good though! Tim wrote a post about his progress over on Vanpire Weekend.

It's been rainy rainy rainy here for the past few days. Sad town. But yea, I know, April Showers, blah blah blah.

2ND ANNUAL KIANG FAMILY VACATION!!!!!!!

We're like the Griswolds except not as hilarious and more drunk! And we're going to Athens and Santorini for ten days!

But yes, it's that time of year again. Family vacation time!

Pretty soon after Mom died, all of us knew that we would no longer really be a cohesive family. We were living in three different places, and when you lose the glue that binds you together (well at least the glue that binds Cindy and I to our father), there is much less incentive to gather at holiday time. This last Christmas, Dad didn't come home, and while Tim and I spent pre-holiday time with Cindy and Kory, I spent Christmas with the Liles in New York. We're not stupid, the Kiangs, although we are silly, and we knew that the only way to motivate us to gather at least once a year was a family vacation.

It's sad that a death was the only thing that jarred us into spending more time as a family, but sometimes, that's just how life is. You never realize how important things are until something comes along and challenges it.

Last year, we invaded London & Barcelona. Our stay in London coincided with the protests / riots against the G8. We bonded as a family over lots of jamon and a shared terrifying hooker fight in the streets.

This year, our visit to Athens coincides with the um.. collapse of the Greek economy. I hope we can bond over olives, spit roasted meats, and liquor. And, Timmy is coming!

Next year, if you have any suggestions for a country you would like ruined in some way, feel free to make a suggestion.

ALSO! Feel free to make suggestions as to what to do in Athens and Santorini (I'm asking you, the Greekest people I know, Mr M William Panek and White Michelle)

So goodbye forever, jerks. Have fun in America.

Just kidding. I'll be back. And I don't think you guys are jerks. You are all wonderful, lovely people.

Pew pew pew laser noises

I've been making a lot of laser noises recently. No idea why, but I am definitely wishing there was some sort of dance song out there that uses laser noises. Um.. anyone have any leads on that?

Tim and I started a blog about our road trip! I've been writing about things we want to do and see and he will start writing when van remodeling gets underway. Check it out at: Vanpire Weekend

Whenever we tell anyone the name of the blog they always have the same deadpan reaction: oh. I get it. Like the band. That's clever. We meant the lame pun, I swear. Nothing funnier than puns, right?

February was a busy month, well as busy as a month could be when a person is unemployed and doesn't want to contribute to society in any way. We got a new puppy... and then had to give him back due to my allergies :(:(:(:(:( which is probs good because then we would be weirdos with two chihuahuas. I finished my first quilt, which was a delight. I'm getting started on my second one right now. I also went ice fishing, which was awesome. I started going to the gym, as I am prone to do during the cold months, when my ass gets to unbearable proportions.

Oh yeah, maybes the biggest news of the month is that I decided to stay here in NH for law school instead of going to California. Turns out I kind of like the winter. And that I can be bought rather easily with some scholarship money. More the latter than the former.

So it's at least 3 more years here for the Kiang-Liles-Freddie clan and rest assured, we will be living free for all 3 of those years.

And as for the thorniest of all months, Smarch, there is also much planned. Smarch is always the first month that people remember that spring is coming back! YEA! So there is more excitement in the air. Damion is having a show in Portland and we are going to hang out there for a weekend, we're going to a Celtics game (still kinda exciting? even though they lost to the Nets... eesh), I'm attending an orientation at Pierce Law, and we're going to Greece mid month! Before I know it, it'll be time for a Caribbean cruise (early April) and then gigantic road trip (May???)

Spring is coming! Spring is coming! Spring is coming! YEA!

Listen...

I know that I was in AmeriCorps for a year, and that gives me a gigantic sense of "fuck you, I never have to volunteer again," but how can you not donate anything to Haiti right now? When I was tutoring in Boston, my favorite students were from Haiti and always spoke about how bad things were there but how much they loved it. You don't even have to get off of your gigantic red sweatpanted ass to do it (that refers specifically to me. I bought red sweatpants with elastics on the legs from Target for 7 dollars and I love them)

So text to donate. What is 10 dollars to you? It's 3 lattes, 2 beers, a bottle of wine, one pair of red sweatpants, or you know what? Just think of whatever asinine thing you are next going to spend 10 dollars on and know that you can do without it.

Yikes

For a long time, I was totally paranoid about someone cutting off my ponytail on the subway / bus because I had read about assaults like that happening. Everyone I told this fear to denied the existence of this horrifying crime. WELL. READ IT AND WEEP BITCHES.

So glad I don't partake of public transportation on the reg anymore.

Also, I need to get a haircut. I'm below the belly button and my hair is even melted into the snow on our front step. (gross, I know)