Earlier tonight, I was looking over a few photos my friend put on Facebook. She had quite a few pictures of her mother. She had recently lost her mother to disease.
Looking through these pictures, I spotted one with my friend and her mom. Her mom looked so young then, so full of life. She looked kind of like my mom.
I had never lost anyone really important in my life. I’ve never been to a funeral fora family member or a close friend. My parents and grandparents are all doing pretty well, but I still can’t help but wonder what that will be like.
The loss of a loved one is like heartbreak. You can describe it with words as much as you can, but nothing prepares you for the real thing. Reading or hearing about it is one thing; actually experiencing loss is another thing altogether. In that regard, it’s actually a lot like love (another area I know very little about).
My dad’s younger brother and his wife came to visit us from Korea. During dinner last night, they broke into spontaneous song. My aunt carries a tune wonderfully; her singing voice has all the vigor and life of her ordinary happy chatter. My uncle’s voice is softer, yet filled with a steady courage. Soon, an impromptu karaoke session broke out around the table. My dad’s robust baritone (honed by years of church choir practice) sang out Japanese songs he learned from my grandfather (“hallelujahs” to “yokohamas”), while my aunt and uncle chirped away happily on old Korean pop ballads.
Then my mother brought out an old Korean music book, made her selection, and began to sing. My mother doesn’t have a strong voice, but she has a pleasant, demure tone. Her eyes never left the page; she remained focus. By the time I excused myself from the table, she and my aunt began singing duets together.
It’s like my parents tell me. It’s easy to take life too seriously. Sometimes, you just need to be silly and have fun.
~Edelweiss, edelweiss…every morning you greet me…~