lovinglearningliving18-blog

[lovinglearningliving18-blog]

11/8/2018

Well dad. Here we are again. 

My tumblr got deleted for no reason, and I tried retrieving it with absolutely no luck. And I know I should have saved those posts, at least the very first one when my memories were fresh because now, six years later, the memories are a blur. Or maybe I am just pushing them off to a corner of my brain, a little storage compartment where I don’t need to bother with it unless 11/18 comes around. I’m kicking myself for not having records of those posts, I even remember a gut instinct telling me to go ahead and do it. But why did I push it off? Really bit me in the butt, didn’t it. 

So I’m gonna do my best to try and remember what happened. God help me remember all the details. 

It was Sunday. Woke up to go to the special Thanksgiving service at church and our bible study group had a body worship routine we were going to perform. You were too sick to go to church with us. You were left on the couch and I don’t think I responded when you said bye to me as we were heading out. It was something I did often. Ignore you. 

I think service started at 10:30. We were running late because mom and I got in a fight on our way to church, I forget what it was about. I wonder if it was mentioned in my old tumblr blog. The fight got physical and I hit her. This is when I have a hunch that you died, when I hit her. Is that when you took your last breath? When you were headed down stairs? I will never know. But I remember mom wanted to turn the car around and head home, and I refused because we were a part of the body worship routine- you can’t just bail like that. But boy. I wish we bailed and turned the car around. Why didn’t i just listen to my mom and let her take us home? Could we have saved you? Yes, it was only 20 minutes or so since we left the house, the drive isn’t that long. We definitely could have saved you. And for that, I’ll never let that go and I’ll never forgive myself. 

I remember the night before I went to Tori Dakich’s bar mitzvah. I had a fun time, instagrammed a pic with Ella Tobias’ cousin Connor because I thought he was a cute little twerp. 

I think we were wearing white and khakis? For the body worship I’m pretty sure everyone wore a white top. As I’m writing this, why didn’t I let mom turn the car around? It’s a pang of guilt I will never overcome. It eats away at my heart. 

During the service I sat next to the little boy in my bible study group. When service was over I got a starbucks frappuccino (probably double chocolatey chip) and I tweeted at 2:31pm something like, they forgot the whipped cream EW how could they? I was so naive and arrogant and annoying. A carefree, rich life. I’d give anything to live that life of a spoiled bitch again. 

And now comes the heavy part. Reliving this is so hard. I wish I had my old tumblr to just breeze through the memories. But maybe God wanted me to relive this and show me something new. Who knows. 

I go upstairs. I think I take a shit or something, don’t even remember if I flushed because I hear a piercing (and I mean piercing) scream calling out my name from mom. Something I’ve never heard before, especially not coming from her, and to be honest I can’t recall it because my mind probably blocked it out. Shit hit the fan and I didn’t expect a single thing that came next. 

I run downstairs and see dad lying on the ground and he is clearly dead. I had a caramel apple pop in my mouth and I think I threw it off to the side to call 911. All of this is a blur and I’m trying my best to remember. My 911 call was tough. They told me to do CPR and that was my first time doing it ever. His body was lifeless as I compressed and felt his hollow chest and ribs. His face looked peaceful. The oxygen tank very close by but for some reason he just had to take a break and lie down on the ground. That’s why I think God really just wanted him home, it was just his time to go. God plucked him and neatly picked him from the pool of people on earth and said, hey, come home now. And he did go. He left us. 

I had a screenshot of the 911 phone record and I’m sure I could find it somewhere. I don’t know when this was. I think my mom would’ve called my grandparents next or maybe our bible study group friends like the Cho family because a flood of people came and did the paramedics. If I remember correctly, our whole street was flooded with cars and I’m sure my neighbors were so confused as to what happened in a matter of a few hours. When we finally came upstairs there were so many people in my house and I was crying and went next to the TV in the living room and was kinda dramatically saying stuff like, he’ll never be with me at my wedding or prom or graduation or anything. Looking back that was a little dramatic and kinda scripted. I don’t know what audience I was performing to. 

Ugh. I missed 11:11. I know this superstitious stuff is stupid but it really affects me. Does this means I just jinxed my whole year? On the day you died? Which happens to be on a Sunday, the same day you passed six years ago? I don’t know. Ugh. Another reason I’m kicking myself, in addition to getting my tumblr deleted. Nothing is going right clearly. 

I think a few hours passed like that, me and my mom crying next to the tv and people trying but failing to comfort us. That’s pretty much all I remember this day. The next morning I overheard people and my mom saying stuff, but then they shooed me to my room and mom was like don’t worry, go inside type of deal. I didn’t go to school the next few days (Mon-Wed) and the rest of the week was Thanksgiving break and the funeral was on Friday. There was a lot of bickering with your side of the family because they wanted you cremated but I didn’t, but looking back I’m so glad we did because being buried in the ground and rotting is awful. I still have an alarm (at 8am) set for the funeral, we got there early to take a look at the body and say our personal goodbyes and our friend in our bible study sang songs, pastor gave a sermon, I gave a speech. I don’t wanna recall the speech too much because it was basically me saying we’ll be okay but really we’re not anymore. 

I can’t believe we blew thru 200k of your life insurance. We have no money left, and there’s a big impending cloud over me and I’m sure mom and the rest of mom’s side (because I could care less about your shitty side) just stressing over money. You wanted me to be a successful pharmacist, but the more I try to recall memories I have with you, the more I forget or maybe we just didn’t have any. I despised you as a dad and I kinda hate you for dying on us. I fight with mom a lot and honestly I think she is really fucking incompetent. Grandpa got fired, but then rehired by the stupid church and had back surgery but still works as a driver for the morning services. We are struggling to make ends meet and I hate my life. It’s just a waiting game for me to get out of school, start making money and becoming successful. I carry and will carry this family on my back, because you couldn’t. Because you had to fucking die on us. 

I hate my life and I hate my school. I came to Butler because you wanted me to. I’m a pharmacy major because you wanted me to be a pharmacy major. My fate was basically written out by you, for you. It’s not fair. I wish I could pick another life without all the shit God gave me, all the hardships that my classmates, peers, and sorority sisters will never have to face in their lives. Their lives are a piece of cake and I’m here wanting to kill myself (quite frequently actually). But somehow life still moves on, I’m still a piece of shit getting shit grades, stressing about the future and trying to get a good internship to make me competitive and stand out when I’m trying to get a real, big girl job. It’s a lot of weight on my shoulders that no other person my age really has to face, and it’s just unfair.

I think about my carefree life before you fucking died and it’s hard. It’s hard to remember and pick up the pieces and try to put them together. I think it’s that thing that PTSD survivors do- they block bad memories out because it’s their trauma that won’t let them remember any of it. 

School’s hard. I have no social life and I have some shitty ass fucking friends. I need some better people in my life, and every day at 11:11 am and pm I wish for the same damn thing. To be happy. It encompasses a lot, but if I’m able to achieve that, then I’m golden. All these hardships won’t feel as heavy anymore and I’ll be able to breathe. Not sure when or if I’ll even be happy but I can still dream. 

I wish you were here dad, and surprisingly I’m not crying as I write this, like every other year. Maybe because I’m pissed, maybe because my heart is turning to black, stone cold. When grandparents say oh remember this or that, he reminds me so much of you Jane, etc. I sit there and think- who is this man? Because honestly I don’t remember you. Grandma asked what is your favorite memory of your dad? I sat there blank because honestly I couldn’t tell you. 

An update that is worth sharing is I have the motivation to learn Korean to study vitamin C and carry out your foundation. I think that’s what made me want to go to Korea in the end and work at some pharmaceutical stuff there. I watched your video on vitamin C on youtube, found some quote that you said this vitamin C product is the best on some manufacturer’s website, I’ve done a lot of digging to find out who you were this way. I even proposed a vitamin c research group but that flopped. Couldn’t tell you why God did that but. Isn’t it sad that 16 years of being my dad, I can’t even tell people who you really were because quite frankly I don’t know myself? 

I could go on but deep down I know I miss either you or the life you provided as a doctor. Time’s running out dad, I’m doing my best to stay afloat and not to sound like an ultimatum or anything, but I need some good news to turn around this sinking ship. Because I don’t know how much is left of me to keep this family on my back. 

Hope you’re belting all the hymns and worship songs with that awful voice of yours. Hope I’m making you remotely proud (even though I know I suck and probably am not). I miss my old life, but maybe just maybe God has something in store. Mom burst out crying when we were singing hymn #470 today. Maybe it reminded her of you, to be honest I don’t remember what you sounded like singing just that it was awful. But there must be a lot of weight on her shoulders because of me and I have you to blame. Whatever though. 

Keep watching over us please. This is the first year I’m going to bed before midnight on your heavenly day, I don’t feel the need or the urge to stay up and watch the clock strike midnight. I’m starting to resent you I think and I’m worried I’ll forget you completely. Not sure what there is to even do though to fix this. 

I love you and don’t forget about me and I hope I won’t forget about you. Keep watching over us and keep praying over us. My guardian angel.