Hope Comes from Letting Go

Everyone keeps asking me if I’m okay and even though I say yes, they give me that look like I’m lying to them.

Yes, one week ago my mom died. Yes, one week ago I lost one of the most important people in my life (but I have others who are just as important still with me.)

Why can’t I be okay with death?

My parents have always taught us that death is something that happens. Sometimes when you least expect it, sometimes you see it coming. Death is nothing to be feared. Death is not a moment of sadness.

Death is a celebration. A renewal. A door opening. Death is not the end but the beginning.

Laugh if you want, roll your eyes, or do whatever you want. You have been taught death is one thing and I have been taught death is another.

So I’m sitting here writing this blog on Christmas Day with my mom sitting on my shoulder and a smile on her face. She would have been proud on the way her family celebrated her life and are dealing with her death. Yes we lost her, but we gained a guardian angel.

The title of this blog came from a tag line to the movie THINGS WE LOST IN THE FIRE. I have always liked it and taped it to my door at work but this week, it meant more to me.

Yes, I physically let go of my mom, but I have not let go of her memories, of all that she taught me, and her spirit. The moment I let go of her physically was the exact moment that hope returned into my heart.

To me, a heart without hope is a heart that should not be beating. Hope is attainable. Hope can happen. Let go and hope returns.

Listening to “Night Runner” by Duran Duran

Lek Taylor

Today @ 12:55 pm, Heaven gained their biggest angel...even if she’s only four nine and weighs in at 85 lbs.

Tonight, the heavens shine a lot brighter with their best star in the sky.

Today, my mama, my Crazy Little Thai Woman, the woman who I adored, passed away.

I could go on about what happened, but those who know me and who I hold dear in my life know so there’s no need to repeat. Those who don’t know me, just know the story below. She lives forever in me, in my sister, in my father, in my nieces, and in every breathe that we breath. She is watching down over not only me, my dad, my sister, my nieces, my brother-in-law, but she is watching down over all of us. She will guide you when you are lost. She will answer the questions you have. She will be there for you with a caring ear and a heart as big as the world. Just look up to the sky and find the brightest star and talk. She is there. She will always be there.

Lek Taylor - June 5, 1948 to December 17, 2009

A loving wife, mother, & grandmother. A spirit so beautiful that it will take your breath away. May she shine down on us forever from the heavens. I love you Mama. You gave me 34 wonderful years and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. You & Daddy made me the woman I am today and the woman I will be tomorrow. May I pack as much punch in my life as you did in your own.

Parts of this was originally written: Sat. Sept. 12th

My mom is an amazing woman. She’s four feet & nine inches of all punch. She speaks what is exactly on her mind and if it hurts your feelings, you’ll get over it.  She moved to the US in 1975 after meeting my dad while he was stationed in Thailand. They met fell in love and after only 5 dates & a 6 month separation, they married each other. They had so many obstacles against them when they married.  One being the language barrier. My mom spoke no English and my dad spoke no Thai. They understood each other well enough without language to succeed.  Score one for love knocking down a barrier.  Two being an era when it was frowned upon to marry outside your race. My dad told me the story of how he called his parents to say he was marrying my mom. They said to him never come. He said I guess you’ll never see your grandchildren then. It’s so weird to hear this because my mom and my grandma are very close.  Love brought down another barrier.

Though I felt like a looser moving back home a few years ago, I originally moved back home to take care of their house and their pets since my dad is long haul truck driver, but really it was for my mother. She’s very traditional in her thoughts and didn’t understand the first time I moved out. I wasn’t married. Who would take care of me she often asked.

She mows the grass three times a week via push mower. We have a pretty large front yard, but here is this tiny little Asian woman, pushing a bright yellow lawnmower and sweating like only Southern weather can make you sweat. I have my mom back. The lawnmower pushing, digging in the garden, walking in the woods, crazy Thai woman back. She’s a spitfire and though I know she’s in pain because of her hip, it didn’t stop her from doing what she normally does on a Saturday and that’s spend all of the waking sunlight outdoors with her dogs and digging in her garden.

Listening to “Closer to the Edge” by Thirty Seconds to Mars

Rise Above It

10:07 pm on a Saturday...

I should be living it up right? Partying with friends? Watching my two favorite hockey teams battle it out at my favorite bar on TV? Creating havoc amongst the hearts of men?

Nah, not this girl. Not tonight.

Instead, I’m sitting in my comfy jammies in a candlelit room feeling a case of the blahs and a creative funk coming on.

Today has been a big case of blahs & self doubt.

I kind of had the wind knocked out of my writing sails. I read through my work in progress, found what had once inspired me, and my brain stalled out. I dig these two characters. They came to me out of nowhere. They were all that I have thought about for weeks and now, I just sit and think, now what. What cliche are you going to do now? Why are you worthy?

I shouldn’t be upset with them. They’re just characters. My reality has nothing to do with their world. Their world has nothing to do with my reality, but I have somehow let the two collide and it’s my own fault not theirs.

What’s a girl to do?

I looked at self-doubt, fought it, and then shoved it into the penalty box for instigating the blahs.

I looked at what had inspired me and let the memories of why it inspired me come back to me.

I don’t judge it.

I just rise above it.

Listening to “Live Forever” by The Rasmus

Easily Bruised

This blog entry brought to you by feelings of annoyance.

My heart hurts. Not in the mental or emotional heart broken way, but in the physical “could I be having a heart attack” kind of way. I know what you’re thinking, “Why are you writing this? Go to a doctor stupid.” I’ve felt this before though. It happens when I let my feelings & thoughts get the best of me. Boy, are they getting the best of me right now.

And all because of one friend who we will call Debbie Downer.

Debbie Downer probably didn’t mean to be buzz kill.

Debbie Downer probably thought they were being nice & looking out for me.

Debbie Downer made me want to punch them in the face.

Can you tell, I’m really annoyed with Debbie Downer right now?

I’m trying very hard to “breathe in, breathe out, move on” but all I want to do is stew in my annoyance, find Debbie, and really put a good hurting on them because of the hurt they put on me. (I’ll state Debbie has not physically hurt me, more mentally than anything)

The thing that probably annoys me the most is that my annoyance about what happened directly makes writing a certain project very hard. I guess though that I can take all this emotion I’m feeling and shove it into the story. I know I will write it into the story. It will now change the outcome of the story.

I don’t share a lot of what I’m thinking or feeling with friends or family because of things happening like this. Like the blog title says “easily bruised,” that’s me. I bruise easily. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. When I bruise, my writing bruises.

The story now has a bruise. My once excited state of mind to write it is now bruised.

As a writer, my imagination is my own world. It belongs to me. It is run by me, but every now and then the outside world does come crashing in & makes a mess of it all.

A tornado of reality really does wipe out a beautiful and peaceful imagination in seconds.

Listening to “Embrace Me” by Greg Laswell