Three years ago today, we drove to the hospital with Kun Eemoh to say goodbye to you. You couldn’t talk, and I imagined all the things you would have said to us if you were awake: Be good. Be happy. Be healthy. Live proudly. I heard your real voice a week, or a few days, or a month prior (I can’t remember, it’s all a blur) for the last time, and how I wish I could remember your last words to me.
Three years later, it’s still too painful to recall that day. So instead, I’ll just tell you about the twins.
Sometimes, they remind me so much of you. Bean… she is so feisty, and so bossy sometimes. She’s assertive when she wants something. But she also lets go when she needs to or knows better. When her feisty attitude appears — I can’t help it… I smile inside, and look at her with pride. She has your spirit, and your energy. She is strong, and she will be a strong woman. Sometimes I glance at her at a certain angle, and I catch your face for a moment. She is beautiful and adorable. She gets that from you. Oftentimes I catch her intensely focused on something. Those are the moments I really see you. I watch her concentrating so hard; your determination and will carrying on through her.
And Buddy… he has such a gentleness about him like you. And a silly sense of humor too. And he asks so many questions — too many sometimes. On some days, when our patience wears thin, we give him an answer that says Stop asking so many questions. And he gets a pensive, twitchy look on his face. I recognize that look. You had that look often, when I would try and stop the questioning or the slew of advice. Slight hesitation… pondering What if I just ask just this one last question… should I or shouldn’t I? And I smile to myself while I refrain from rushing over and hugging him in the hopes of catching your essence before it leaves, or before he lets it go too quickly.
They are both such sweet souls. They are sensitive, kind, independent, respectful. I try to raise them the way I think you tried to raise me. I teach them to say, “May I be excused please?” after meals because remember…? When you always tried to get us to say that? I do that so everyday, we can honor you in some way. It’s silly and minor but I know you would appreciate it.
A few weeks ago I showed the kids our wedding album. When we came across pictures of you, they said, “Halmoni!” and I almost cried. I was so happy they recognized you. G told me that he believed his grandmother visited him in dreams when he was younger. Do you do that? Do you visit them in their dreams? I hope so. I hope that is how they recognized you. We try and show them pictures of you so they know who you are, but I don’t think we do it enough.
I hope you are with Halmoni now. I think she was so heartbroken after losing you that she went to be with you. Maybe you are playing hwa-tu together.
I’m sorry we can’t visit you today — I know this third year is important. The four of us will go out tonight for you though. And I know you will have other visitors today. I hope you can see them all. All the Eemohs miss their Uhnee so much. When we visit with them, I catch them quietly watching the twins, a sad smile on their faces, and I know what they are thinking: I wish Uhnee could watch her grandchildren grow up.
You have a lot of beautiful grandchildren. You would be so proud of them all. I hope, wherever you are, you are proud of all of us too. I try and live the way I know you would have wanted us to. Be good. Be happy. Be healthy. Live proudly. Some days are harder than others, but I’m trying. We miss you and we love you so much.
Love,
Janet
17 Comments
That was such a beautiful, moving tribute to your mother. Hugs.
I have tears running down my face. I remember this day so clearly. I don’t know if you heard it, but at the hospital, the lead doctor who was attending to uhma said to us, “You have a beautiful family.” And we do, because of her.
We are thinking of “halmoni” today, too, and of you. I know this custom doesn’t hold meaning for you, but we light a Yahrzeit candle for your mother, ever year on this day.
What a moving post about your mother. I’m sorry for your loss, HM.
No words, just :hugs:
I shouldn’t have read this at work. I’m so sorry that you’re mom is not here with you to watch these amazing kids of yours. It was a beautiful letter, J. Any mom would have loved it.
Thinking of you and your family.
that post made me cry. it’s so obvious how much you loved her. i’m sorry for your loss, halfmama. moms are amazing. she’d be proud of how you’re raising your twins.
oh bunny, just wanted to let you know i’m thinking of you. i never properly said “i’m sorry about your mom”; so you know, i am.
xxoo
I am so sorry for your loss, and I understand it, too. Letters like these help me so much, I hope it helped you, too.
This was a beautiful tribute, and you were able to capture in words what has escaped me. Sept. 20 was the 2nd annivversary of my mom’s death, and I gave birth to my first child this summer. I say this to say, I understand.
We don’t know one-another, but I feel confident in saying that your mom is proud of you and the beautiful kids your raising.
Hang in there.
That was such a beautiful post. I teared up and I have goosebumps now.
where did you get your nickname ‘half mama’ from?
just curious
- jenn
i rarely lose it (in public anyway) and TODAY i lost it at my noni’s funeral. reading this before dropping into bed (alone in a hotel) was almost too much. but, it was good to be somewhere private. and it was good to read and remember how loved ones can still be present and honored and remembered in our children.
Can a remembrance ever be written more beautifully?? I think not. I felt each and every emotion in your words - the words of a loving daughter missing her mother.
Take care of yourself. She would be so proud of you…
That was such a beautiful tribute to your mom.
I worry that if I wait too long to have kids, they won’t know my mom and that would be so sad for me (and for them, of course). I love the ways you’ve tried to keep your mom’s memory alive for Buddy & Bean.
What a beautiful post. *sniff.
*Hugs*…Somehow, I just know your mom is watching over you and your family.
How lucky you are to have had a mother who still lives on so fully in her children’s hearts.