Better Days
“How are you doing?”
“Everything is everything.” (always my default answer.)
‘No. How are you doing, really?”
Make sure you take note of the people who dig deep to find out how you’re really doing. It may seem insignificant, but oh what a difference it makes.
“I’m actually pretty good. Really.”
They try. I’m pragmatic, bordering on cynical. I also tend to be guarded and wall myself off to most. It isn’t their fault and I don’t blame them. It’s a me thing. I process differently than what they’re used to.
My mother passed away on August 1, 2020. It came out of nowhere. It wasn’t Covid, it just happened. 2020 man...2020 has been Ramsay, Joffrey, and Littlefinger all wrapped in one. And to think that we still have an election and two months left of this funky ass year.
I had gone back and forth with the idea of taking a trip. Go visit my mother in Austin or go to visit my sister, nieces, and friends back home in El Paso. The few months that led to that point were off. I wasn’t in the best state. I really enjoy working. Why? It gives me a sense of purpose where I can use my gifts to add value to the world. It also keeps me busy and distracted. I live in my head. Some of you may call yourselves overthinkers. The dilemma of yin and yang sitting on your shoulders whispering in your ear during moments of indecision, I know that unease. I feel for you. But with me, they yell through Beats headphones on full blast at all times of the day and night drowning out any sense of comfort and peace; I don’t sleep.
I asked Miles if he wanted to go with me. He’s usually dismissive and quick with a “no.” He’s about his friends as every boy his age is, and now that he has a car, he’s firing that “no” at me like Johnny Ringo. It never stops me from asking. I left it fairly vague but wanted to plant the idea in his head to see whether or not it would grow.
A few days passed and I decided to pull the trigger. I’m not very impulsive but I was starting to come unglued; I needed a quick trip to recharge my battery. Southwest had a good deal going so I bought a ticket. It was a Tuesday and the ticket was for Thursday so you know the price had to be right. Single dad, teacher salary...first world problems. I asked Miles one more time thinking that he was just going to turn me down and ask me to stock the fridge and leave him some money. He was with it. He hadn’t seen my sister and the girls in a long time. “I’m going to graduate next year and then I’ll be off to college. I may not see them again for a while.” Moments like that remind me that Miles is the shit.
“Done deal. I’ll buy your ticket right now.” This was the first time that we had been on a plane together since our Disney World trip when he was 4. We’ve always driven everywhere. I don’t take trips often mainly because I feel a way about leaving Miles. He’s always been low maintenance and mature in how he carries himself, but it never sat well with me. Probably stems from my own childhood baggage. This isn’t an episode of My So Called Life so let’s keep it moving.
We were off. Plane ride was great with the whole social distancing thing. No one in the middle seat? On the whole plane? Game changer. We got the rental car, checked into the hotel, and immediately back in the car to get some food. First stop, Wienerschnitzel. Yes, Wienerschnitzel. Judge me if you want. There isn’t one where we live now. 3 dogs each and some chili cheese fries. We got back to the room and hog-assed it out. It was a gluttonous euphoria. I felt happy, then gross, then sad, then satisfied...the roller coaster of indulgence and self loathing.
After the food coma, we went to the Ft. Bliss Cemetery to see my dad. I usually talk to him for a bit, say a quick prayer, and kiss his gravestone. Next stop, Magic Barbershop. Always in that order anytime I visit home; my dad, then the barbershop to see Gaby. It’s a funny thing with Gaby. She’s been my barber since I was sixteen. I barely said a word to her for the first four years or so. And since then, you can’t shut me up. We can talk about anything and everything. We greeted each other with a smile and a hug. The first thing that she asks me anytime I see her is the same... “Do you have a girlfriend yet, Leigh?!” She’s awesome.
Miles and I hung out all day and made plans to visit my sister and her family. My bad ass nieces love Miles. They kind of like me too. I usually don’t tell anyone when I’m in town until I’m town. I called my boys and decided to meet up at one of their houses later that evening. Drewski, Ryan, Frank, and my guy Horner decided to make a last second, impromptu as well and met us as soon as he landed. We’re pretty simple so it was just some beer on the porch, music in the background coming from a portable bluetooth speaker, and good vibes. The weather was actually great. Summers in El Paso can be brutal but it just happened to be overcast with billowing thick, gray clouds filling the sky that day.
It was just like old times: drinks, crude jokes, hyperbolic recollections of embarrassing moments shared, criminally asinine arguments, and flashes of vulnerable insight. It ended ridiculously late as it always does. Enough water and time passed to get sober of course. I dropped off my boy Chops (his name is Saul but I don’t know if I’ve actually ever called him by his name) and headed back to the hotel. Just so you know, my end of the night drive home playlist is undefeated.
The next day, Miles and I wanted to see the girls but we had something very important planned first. We had to get some Korean food. There are a handful of Korean restaurants in the Northeast that just get it right; get at me for the Yelp review. Because of the military base, there is a decent sized Asian community in El Paso. Korea has US military bases as well. So while it may seem odd, it makes perfect sense. For all of you who have been completely perplexed about my racial makeup, there you go.
There is a hospitality and a rudeness that is so delightful at a mom and pop Korean eatery that can’t possibly be described; only experienced. I love it. Instantly reminds me of everything about my mom. Miles and I larded out and went to our room to take a nap. Correction: I took a nap and Miles got on the sticks (that’s Playstation just in case you didn’t know.) My sister wasn’t going to be home for a few hours so we had some time after lunch. A quick 15 minute drive to her house and there they were. The whole family: Cathy, her husband Chris, Charlotte, and Carolynne...They’re the Griswolds. Time spent with them is always quality time. My sister is who I should have been.
The tour continued with plans to see as many people as I could squeeze into a few days. I didn’t know when I was going to be back. Miles and I were going to visit my mom and my brother the following weekend. The order was really just a flip of a coin. We had spoken about it and just happened to decide that El Paso was first, then Austin. Back to the room, Uber Eats, and the Laker game. Miles is a huge Lebron fan. As the game came to an end, a friend invited me to have some drinks so I stepped out for a few hours. Another fun night back in good ol’ EP. Again, the music that plays in my car on the way home is unmatched. I opened the door to the room and Miles was faking like he was asleep. We laughed because it was something that we used to do when he was little and hadn’t done in years.
I woke up to my phone vibrating. I was going to just let it sit but something pushed me to check out who called. I saw my brother George’s name and I knew. I knew even before I called him back. We don’t call each other often and never that early in the morning. He answered and I could barely make out what he was saying. He was inconsolable and sobbing unlike anything I’ve ever heard out of him before.
“George. Take a breath. I’m guessing I already know but what’s wrong?”
“Mom had another stroke early this morning. She’s in the hospital but she probably won’t come out of it. I don’t know what happened. She was doing so well. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“This isn’t your fault, man. What do you need me to do? I’m in EP right now but I’ll catch a flight out tonight.”
My focus was on Miles the whole time but my vision got blurry as they started to well up. He overheard our conversation; he put the pieces together. My lip quivered. I shut and squeezed my eyes dry and took a deep breath to gain my composure. I told him that we were going to fly out to Austin because his grandma was about to die. He took it as I would have...quietly, calmly as he was processing everything in his head. I called my sister; George had already spoken to her. She was still heaving with the flood of sadness and drowning in tears. I told her that Miles and I were going to swing by before our flight.
I was trying to figure out how to tell Asia. She spent a lot of time with my mom and had a bond with her that I can’t explain. I never spent any time with my extended family, and to be frank, didn’t want to. Asia is also a very emotional person. It’s absolutely delightful and intoxicating when it’s good. It’s a powder keg when it’s bad. She had already heard the news. She just so happened to call Cathy earlier. It was probably a blessing that it happened that way. My sister’s delivery tends to be a lot more soothing than mine.
I really wanted to keep it to myself, but I told a select few...people close to me. An unnamed loved one was first. My good friend Justin texted me because we hadn’t seen each other yet this trip and he wanted to meet up somewhere. The timing…he was the second person that I told. He reached out to all of the people I know which turned into me getting inundated with texts and phone calls. They were just trying to show their concern the best way that they knew how. But they should have known. I didn’t want it.
Miles and I arrived at Cathy’s. She fell into my arms. I leaned in and whispered, “Wipe your face. The kids need to see us hold it together.” She hugged me a little tighter and exhaled. My best friend David met me at my sister’s. His son Tyson had a basketball game at the Y and he had his twins, Trey and Tatum, with him as well. All of them playing together with Miles and Cathy’s kids was a healthy distraction for my sister.
She died about an hour before we landed. George picked us up from the airport. From there, we were going straight to the hospital. Saturday night in Austin and there was no traffic. Eerie yet comforting. With Covid, we didn’t even know whether all of us were going to be allowed in at the same time if at all. We got in and had to go through a maze as they were trying to control the flow of people. Following the arrows on the floor like breadcrumbs, pushing through random plastic curtains, giant buttons prompting nurses’ voices granting us entrance like some spy movie, we made our way to her floor. George had built a rapport with the nurse in just a couple of days. She took us to my mom’s room. My brother went in; I took a second. I asked Miles if he wanted to see her one last time but also let him know that I was completely supportive of whether he did or not.
“No,” he replied and I left it at that. I told him that I would be right back. I walked into the room thinking that I was prepared for what I was going to see. I wasn’t. She was lying on the hospital bed...in peace. But there was nothing peaceful about that shit. Not for me nor those of us left in her wake.
It broke me. This whole time, I was trying to hold everything together for my brother and my sister. Stoic as always. But the moment I saw her, it hit me. It hit me unlike anything that I’ve ever felt...like a tidal wave crashing and plunging me to the depths of the dark and I was caught in an undertow of sorrow. I couldn’t fight back the tears this time. It buckled my knees and knocked the wind out of me. I had to grab the railing at the edge of her bed to catch myself and gather my faculties.
I’m thankful that my sister wasn't going to be able to fly out. There were no flights available until the next day but George was able to call her to cancel as my mom had already passed a few hours earlier. Cathy would have crumbled and it would have been devastating for her to see Mom that way. The original plan was for us to be together to pull the plug. God and Mom made sure that we were spared that heartbreaking ordeal.
I walked out of the room. I didn’t want Miles in the hallway for a long stretch of time. He didn’t either. That may have been the first time that he’s really seen me cry. In fact, the last time that I cried like that was 6 years ago when I was driving to San Antonio to coach at a new school thinking that there was a possibility that Miles wasn't going with me.
He asked if he could wait outside for us. There was a bench right outside of the door where we walked in. He is very introspective and processes almost everything internally. The nurse expressed her concern and condolences and asked if we needed anything. She offered to call the hospital chaplain. My brother said yes. I had my reservations. He entered the room. He engaged in some small talk with my brother, and George being who he is, took it and overshared as he usually does. I know people have their own way of dealing with grief but damn. I cut them off, and asked the chaplain to get on with it. He recited a passage from the Bible, said a prayer, and asked if there was anything that we needed. I quickly responded before George had a chance to…
”No. We’re good. Thank you.”
I was hurt and angry but I probably would have been agitated all the same. He didn’t know us. I really don’t have patience for anything superficial and this wasn’t the time.
We spoke to the nurse and made the arrangements to have her body transported to El Paso. She told us on many occasions that when the time came, she wanted to be buried with my father. My brother was exchanging pleasantries with the nurse as I walked away. I didn’t want to spend any more time there than necessary. Miles was scrolling through his phone as I approached him. My face was red and swollen. I took a few seconds to bury my head in my hands as if it was just sadness contouring I could wipe away. George finally came outside. As we made our way through the relatively empty hospital parking lot, a lady who was audibly falling apart just got unexpected news of a relative’s passing and collapsed into the arms of the person I assume to be her spouse.
So off we went back to El Paso on a flight to check into another hotel room. For those of you who do this kind of travel on the regular, I feel for you. I flew Asia in later that evening. We picked her up from the airport and went straight to Village Inn. I have a thing for Village Inn that is quite inexplicable. My kids don’t get it either. Breakfast for dinner is undefeated. I love seeing my kids together. Being that Asia lives in Houston now, they don’t see each other very often anymore. They bicker most of the time, but they’re oddly close. They have a lot of inside humor that no one else understands and when they make each other laugh, It becomes an avalanche of finishing each other’s sentences and infectious giggles; it’s as good as it gets for me.
There were a few moments that struck me and the tears flowed. Not many though. I’ve made it known how much my mother means to me. My mother is the most influential person in my life and there isn’t a close second. I cannot possibly even scratch the surface of her impact on me. The people around me know this well and they were keeping close tabs on me. This is where it goes a little left. I started this thing answering the question of “How are you really?” with “I’m pretty good.” If you’re someone that I care for and love, I’ve thought about you dying and me being without you. I’ve thought about it and will continue to think about it. A lot of time spent alone as a kid and having my dad die at a young age will do that. It isn’t some morbid Final Destination scenario. It’s more of a self preservation and hardened conditioning mechanism that I’ve developed.
My mother was actually married three times. My father died. Her next husband left her with a note. My mother was functionally illiterate and he left a note. The note basically stated that he left because of me. Albert couldn’t deal with the reality that he couldn’t compete with me being the man of the house. He should have realized that he didn’t have to. Making my mother happy was the only thing that should have been on his mind. But he was in the military as was my father and her third husband. I was precocious and a free thinker and that was in direct conflict to their lifestyle, so I can see the issues that they had with me. I do admit that easy I am not.
People leaving was something I became familiar with. I found security in my insecurity which had me teetering on sociopathic qualities. There’s this thing called the enneagram that analyzes personality types and I’ve learned that I’m wired that way. I’m a type 5 which means I’m way more logic based than feeling based. In my logic, people leave and I had to get used to it. Thus my routine of imagining the people around me dying and my reaction to them not being around.
I think her first stroke two years ago hit me harder than her death. Many days I thought about her not being around before but her stroke brought it to the forefront. She was always a spark plug but the stroke made her light dim a bit. To be honest, I probably thought about her dying everyday since her stroke. It was still unexpected and caught me off guard especially since we were going to see her the next weekend. El Paso then Austin...If I had just flipped the order of our trip. It fucked with me for a while.
Her funeral was on a Monday. WIth Covid, we could only have ten people attend. Not that she would have necessarily wanted more, but my mother deserved better. My peoples offered their support and wanted to come. A close friend, Lacey, checked on me periodically but not in an intrusive way. She was brief, deliberate, and effective in letting me know that I was on her mind and just a stone throw’s away if I needed anything. I appreciated that so much. She took the time and effort to recognize and respect how I operate; it didn’t go unnoticed. One of my oldest friends, Robs (only a select few call him Robs), called me once he heard the news. We reminisced about how mean my mom was but she always made him feel welcome at our place. He talked about how she was like a second mother to him, and how he wish he could have come down from Portland for the service. I would have had them all there if I could have. I cried once more. 4 cities, 7 days, and 8 flights later, we finally made it home.
About a week after I got home, I made one of our favorite dishes, fried Korean dumplings. We have fond memories of watching my mom make these ridiculously delectable dumplings, trying to help at times (more like getting in the way at times), and savagely devouring them when they were cooked. She only made them on special occasions as they take hours and hours to prepare. I’d watch but never really fully appreciated the amount of work until I did them myself. She would have been so tickled to have seen me take the torch.
She was far from perfect, but she was the best mother that I could ask for and an even better grandmother to my kids. I’ll forever miss spending time with her in the kitchen talking about life while learning how to cook. I’ll miss the effort of trying to make her light up so much that even her eyes smiled. I’ll miss my kids sharing some kooky Korean story as told by their “Crazy Grandma Ok Hui.” As much as I could continue to drive down the long, sad toll road of memory lane, I won’t. She gave me all that she could, and look at who I’ve become…it was more than enough.
This is unfinished. I really don’t know if I’ll ever finish it to my complete satisfaction, but it’s the first thing that I’ve written since she passed. Raw and unrefined but I’m sure you understand. It was more about me getting words on paper, expressing thoughts and feelings, and I felt that it should be shared. I was in a funk over the last year or so. The week of her passing snapped me out of it. My mom did that for me as she left this place.
So how am I really? I’m pretty good.
