My mom died shortly after lockdown - Five things I learned
Where to begin. My mother died shortly after lockdown which was hard for many reasons. One reason of which was when the end came, I couldn’t be with her. She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer so in a way I was dealing with her death over five years. Totally changed the way we hung out. She was very brave about it and would be humorously candid. “I don’t care. Let God take me! I’m not afraid!” To sum up my mom, she was that super hot tiger mom that immigrated from Hong Kong. She raised two kids, took no shit, and could cook her ass off. She also had a mushy heart. I miss her, but I always have her “matrix” in my brain, so I know exactly what she’d say, and I cook all the dishes she taught me. I’m just glad she’s not suffering anymore. So I do take comfort in that.
Anyway, what I’ve learned:
1. Not everyone can talk about it
I used to think that you can talk through any subject. Now that I’m older, I’ve realized there are subjects that cut so deep that people don’t talk about. If they do, they will talk about it with you. I found that out as I tried to find community with those who were in the same boat with their parents. But I did have a few who did share and continue to share their experience with loss and I treasure that immensely.
2. Your tolerance for bullshit becomes zero
In other words, I don’t really tolerate things that don’t bring me joy and get into other people’s mess. Everything is measured on what is really important to YOU. I’m just not really interested in “scoring points” with people anymore. It’s like that Dr. Seuss quote which I will now butcher in paraphrasing: “Those who get you, will get it, and those who don’t can fuck off!” My mother kept saying to me “Work hard. Be strong. Be kind.” So as long as I hold to having love in my heart and being honest with myself, worrying about what people think of me has become suuuuuper secondary. A lot of people’s beef with you really is about themselves anyway, so I don’t to let other people’s bullshit become my problem. If people are being raw to me, I just make them smaller and smaller by keeping my distance. Either they come back correct, or they’re too ashamed to ever talk to me again. So it takes care of itself that way. This also includes the bullshit I say to myself! If something isn’t serving me or is negative (generally my dad’s voice) I catch myself and love myself and be easy with myself (not easy when you’ve been raised Asian trust me, it’s something I have to actively force myself to do).
3. Fake friends fuck off and real friends become family
My father and brother were never close to me. To this day I have no idea why they don’t like me. Maybe they feel like as long as they have a grudge against me it makes them better than me. If you know people like this, you know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, I’m happy for you. This IS a thing. It’s been over a year since my mom passed. My dad still hasn’t said word one to me, not a text, not a phone call, no “sorry about your mom” nothing. Of course it feels bad because it’s your dad right? They’re in the same boat emotionally right? Wrong. The only thing me, my brother, and my dad had in common was our love for this woman and now she’s gone. Do we find community amongst ourselves? No. They’re simply not emotionally available and hate me for some reason. So when my mom died, for me, it was as if Krypton exploded. I’m the only one. The Lui Experiment now lies with me, my wife, and whatever children we have or foster. I’d cry to my wife about how I was alone, but she would quickly point out all the “chosen family” I had. All the brothers, sisters, cousins that weren’t blood but were there for me and had my back and suddenly realized how right she was. I was rich with “chosen fam”. There’s a saying that “blood is thicker than water.” This saying is supposed to mean family (blood) is somehow better than friends (water) but for me that was not true. To my surprise the actual saying means THE OPPOSITE. The complete saying is “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” This means the ties to people who stick by you in life who made a promise is stronger than those you share blood with. And I actually find THAT to be true way more. So now I’ve become even more precious with my friends and view them as family. I’ve even tested it and started calling friends “brother”, “sister” and “sib” and they don’t bat an eye.
4.You invest in people and give love away for free
I don’t do things for money really. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll TAKE money. But it’s not my main reason for doing things. I’m finding that the death of my mom has shifted my perspective more towards people and less in material things. For instance, my mother-in-law was reluctant to accept a gift of jewelry for fear of losing it, and I told her, “Mom, if it gives you joy, take it!” “But what if I lose it?” “Then you lose it! It’s not irreplaceable. Enjoy the time you have with it! Enjoy losing it too!” In other words, it’s not blood; it’s not life. My mom-in-law’s joy is worth more to me than some stupid piece of metal and rock. I’ve found that time and time again, including the privilege of writing this blog, when I give things away for “free” and invest in friends, the dividends I get back are more than worth it. Do not underestimate the power of friendship because what we’re really talking about is the power of love and you never know how that love will manifest. When you become a friend, a real friend, you become family. Families take care of one another, feed each other, help each other out, give out wisdom, share tips on improving life and share your pain as well as your joys. Those who don’t get that…don’t. And you can tell who those people are. They’re the ones always trying to mess with your dreams or tell you how you can’t do shit because you're prettier than they are.
5. Feeling how finite life is you give up on forcing things and invest in things that make you happy
After my mom left Earth it was really hard to get myself to do anything. Write. Create. Much of my energy was put into NOT CRYING. So I gave up. I gave up trying. Gave up trying to cheer myself up. Let myself be a piece of shit. And oddly it helped me get in the mood to finish some things. I gave up on how I thought I was “supposed” to finish my first feature film and just started finishing it. The death of a loved one can send you into a weird spiral because you say to yourself “Life is finite, shit! Do something!”but at the same time you’re too sad to fuckin move! “Life is finite, shit! What’s the point of doing ANYTHING!” But I found giving up was a boon. I realized I wasn’t giving up. I was just giving up on my vision of HOW to accomplish things. I love what Aidan told me which was to be kinder to myself because it did remind me to not “bully” myself into happiness. Bully myself into “doing something.” It just doesn’t work. I did find that finishing this project would mean the world to me. Finishing would bring me joy. So, step by step, brick by brick, that’s what I did. When my wife/co-producer told me our first feature got accepted to a film festival and won an award for best comedic feature, I was elated. However, as soon as I started imagining the screening, I started crying because I knew my mother wouldn’t be there. Buckets were pouring out of me as I was driving in my car. Knowing my mom, she would not care for the film at all, she’d say, “Why is it so violent!” “Why can’t it be more happy?!” but I know she’d love to hear the laughs in the audience and have everyone come up to her and say nice things to her. I know she’d like that. Things are still up in the air as far as when and where we’ll get to screen our film with a live audience. Friends like telling me that “she’ll be there in spirit” which I DO appreciate. What’s the lesson? I guess it’s this. Just because people leave doesn’t mean the good, they do left with them. I’ll always appreciate the last ten years of our relationship. (it wasn’t always great, mistakes were made and the childhood part was quite rough for both of us) All we can do is love ourselves and love each other the best we can while we’re still here. I know my mom is gone. But I cook and eat the dishes she taught me and know what she’d say. Work hard. Be strong. Be kind. Especially to yourself which is sometimes the hardest thing to do, but you have to do it, despite all the reasons you can conjure not to. It’s what those who left us would want.
By Kenneth Lui, writer/director of Artists In Agony: Hitmen at the Coda Teahouse
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