So I guess this is perhaps a first: Blogging from about 39,000 feet above the Laguna Indian Reservation in New Mexico. I’m currently on the red-eye back to Tallahassee so that I can hopefully make it for the Christmas program dress rehearsal. Everything has been such a blur this past week (see previous entry below). It’s 4:05 a.m., according to Delta’s GPS screen in front of me – this thing is way cool by the way – so I suppose there really isn’t a better time for me to unjumble all of the thoughts that have been randomly checking into this terminal of emotions. Let’s see what transpires…
My grandmother, Lin Yun Fu (better known as Po-Po to me), passed away on December 3, 2005, in her sleep. She was 93 years young and a measely 50 pounds, and a definite trooper of this ever-changing world. Her feet were bound when she was a little girl in China so that she would fall under the cultural acceptance standards for females back then. It’s probably an enormous understatement to say that she has seen a lot in her lifetime – from raising five daughters and a son during the World Wars to submerging herself into a culture here in the United States that never quite became the loving environment that she was to all that knew her. My last conversation with her was about a month and a half ago. It took her almost a minute to realize who I was, now granted she has 16 grandchildren and another five to ten great grandchildren, but recognizing me never seemed to be a problem. You see, back in the years of 1989 to about 1994, she would live with my family down in Indian Harbour Beach for long periods at a time. And during those times, she made sure I knew that I was one of her favorite grandkids. It probably has to do with me bringing her chili and baked potatoes from Wendy’s after my shifts. OK maybe not entirely, but I think it contributed. She was also probably the only person in the house that would actually tell me to play my drums, instead of telling me to give her ears a break from the 90s power ballads that I would most often play along with.
During my last conversation with Po-Po, her voice was so frail and incoherent; it reminded me of the last conversation with mom. They both sounded strikingly similar but in a weird way - you could hear so much peace in their slurred tones. It makes me sad to think about how mom and her mom could be taken away from their respective families during a time of year where families are supposed to be together. But you have to see the other side of things – God always shows Himself in the midst of our despair. This trip out to CA was atypical; it wasn’t all fun and relaxation obviously, but there as mom and Po-Po looked down from Heaven, I know they were smiling because of the family reunion that occurred between all of the grandkids that hadn’t seen one another in 20 years or so. It was such an immense blessing to see all of them. I’m still the youngest in the bunch at 28, so there was definitely some teasing going on about how I’m still the little boy who always wanted to play Chutes and Ladders, Sorry, Candyland, and whatever games I could find in all of their respective homes. None of them wanted to believe that I was 28 – perhaps for the mere reason that it made them feel that much older to be in their 30s and 40s. We ate two behemoth meals at my Uncle Wong and Aunt Kitty’s restaurant. The food was literally coming out every other minute with an assortment of fruit slushes and what have you - it was absolutely amazing. It was a non-stop gorge fest. I guess Chinese families know how to hold their own with eating - there must be some hidden competition between us and the families in the Deep South.
I found myself in this stoic state the entire day of the funeral service. A tear never made its way to the usual tear canals on my face. I’m usually a “boo-hooer” at anything sentimental. This isn’t to say that the service wasn’t a tearjerker. I could hear my brother to the left of me cry a few times as family members gave their remembrance/tribute speeches. My brother never cries before me at anything. I think in this weird way, I wanted to honor Po-Po’s life by being strong and OK with her being with the Lord. She had lived a long life; saw and suffered who knows how many things, yet at the same time had a huge part in how all of us were raised. I said numerous prayers that day. When I went to see mom in the mausoleum, my prayer to God was one of gladness and praise because I knew at that moment, both her and her mom were floating upon God’s dance floor. These two daughters of Christ never needed to be in Heaven for them to be angels to me. Beautiful they will always be and wonderful wives, mothers, aunts, and sisters they will remain in our hearts.
Heavenly Father,
I am so thankful for the lives mom and Po-Po lived. The sacrifices they made throughout their lives only lead my heart and soul closer to the life your Son lived here on Earth. Thank you for receiving these two beautiful daughters into Your Kingdom and for allowing me to feel everything they left behind through the gentle whispers of your Holy Spirit. I am in awe right now at how Your will for our lives can be so unexpected at times, but never has it left me alone nor unprotected. Your grace abounds as Your comforting peace fills every hurt and sorrow in my heart. May my life continue to glorify You through the midst of all my sins and mistakes. One day, I will be ready to come Home to You just like mom and Po-Po have. And when that day comes, I pray that my life will honor You like their's have. I miss you mom. I miss you Po-Po…
~KH
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