Currently listening to: Everybody Hurts – R.E.M.
It took me awhile to write this post…I needed to be in the right headspace. Writing about his death was rather difficult because it honestly triggered me. I can recall every detail and it felt like I was vividly reliving the whole ordeal all over again.
dear dad
dear dad part deux (tw: dying)
dear dad part trois (tw: dying)
dear dad part quatre (tw: dying)
My friends from Chicago caravanned to Minnesota during a blizzard. They arrived a couple of days before the funeral. The twelve of them got hotel rooms nearby and the guys volunteered to be the pallbearers for my dad’s coffin. They came to the house, turned on the snowblower, and cleared the driveway and the walkways that we didn’t have a chance to do because we were busy planning my dad’s funeral.
Things were unbearable at home. My mom blamed me for my dad’s early demise. She said that if I would have been a better daughter, that he wouldn’t have died. All the stress that I put them through, caused his body to fail. Nothing was mentioned of my brother because he was the perfect son. Everything was my fault.
On the day of the funeral, I put on a black suit and white button down dress shirt. Normally, I would have worn a dress but it was wintertime and it was unforgivingly cold in February. Joseph drove us to the the funeral home and I’m glad that he did because I was in no shape to drive anywhere.
I didn’t put on any makeup because what was the point? My makeup would have smeared all over the face and I would have ended up looking like the Joker. The tears would not stop and I cursed myself silently for being so weak. As we got closer to the funeral home, I began to quietly whimper. I wasn’t ready…
The viewing was horrific and I wished I wasn’t there. Family from Korea, California, Illinois, New York, and Massachusetts were all there. My parent’s church’s congregation were all present. It was held in Korean and even though I could understand everything but I felt myself zoning out. I did not want to be here. People were crying their eyes out, sobbing, and wailing. This made me burst into tears even more. My uncles and aunt were screaming that it should have been them instead of my dad…that he was far too young…that he was one of the good ones.
I patiently waited my turn to go up to the casket to say my final words to him. In my hand, I had a small faded teddy bear I gave him when I was in the fifth grade that said “World’s Greatest Dad” on it. I placed it next to him because he loved that bear and I didn’t want him to be alone. I kissed his face and whispered, “I love you forever and I miss you so much. I’m scared and I would do anything to have you back. I’m sorry for all the bad things that I did…I’m so sorry…”
Standing at the end by the door with my mom and fam was exhausting. Everyone who was at the funeral waited in line to say a few words to us and either hugged me or we bowed to one another. There were so many people and my head was beginning to spin. I forgot to eat dinner the night before and breakfast in the morning. I started to get hot and wished people would stop talking to me.
I don’t know what was going on in my brother’s head but he and my mother in their infinite wisdom decided that we ought to watch my dad get cremated. For the love of me, I cannot figure out who in their right mind would want to see that. My brother grabbed my arm and said we had to hurry, took me down a long corridor, and then turned right. We stopped suddenly in front of a large window and I could see my dad’s casket on a conveyer belt inching towards the incinerator. My eyes were as wide as saucers. This wasn’t real. As he got closer to the fiery machine, my knees buckled and I fell to the floor. I screamed at my brother, “I hate you! Why do we need to see this? This isn’t right! Why are you doing this to me?”
He looked at me in dismay. When I looked up at him, I saw that he was surrounded by his closest female friends. At that moment, I realized that he had invited non-family members to this clusterfuck of an event and I yelled, “Why the fuck would you invite them?” I thought this was going to be private, not a fucking circus.
My uncle, who was my dad’s closest brother and strongly resembled him, picked me up from the floor and hugged me. He told me that he would take 책임 for me. I couldn’t stop crying into his shoulder when all of a sudden, a thunderous noise frightened me. My dad’s casket was now in the incinerator and they were forcefully closing the door. I began to hyperventilate and sob uncontrollably. I couldn’t breathe. I turned around and ran from there. I needed air. I needed to be away from them. I was trying to find a bathroom but instead I crashed into my friends who were patiently waiting for us to return. They huddled around me, propped me up again, and took me into the car.
We were forced to go to the local Korean restaurant for the repast to celebrate and honor my father. I sat there with my mother and brother in silence. How could anyone eat after what we witnessed? I stared at the food and began feeling nauseous. People came up to our table to say their condolences. Again. We bowed and thanked them for coming…over two hundred people came to wish us strength and comfort during this difficult time. “He’s in a better place now. He is with the Lord. You need to be strong for your mom.” If I heard that one more time, I was going to punch someone in the throat. I felt my fists balling up and my fingernails digging into my palm. I wanted nothing more than to melt into the ground and disappear.
After what seemed like an eternity, we finally left the restaurant and returned home. I went to lie down in bed but my brain wouldn’t turn off. I was replaying everything over and over again. I texted my Chicago friends to see if they wanted to meet at the hotel bar, where they were staying, for drinks. They agreed and thought I needed to unwind…drink my sorrows away for the day. I corralled my three cousins (two from LA and one from Boston) who were staying at the house with us and we drove through the blizzard, going eleven miles per hour, to my friends who were less than five miles from my house.
When we got to the bar, they had drinks waiting for us. I was double fisting drinks and crying simultaneously. I had every intention of getting fucked up. I hadn’t eaten in a couple of days and I knew that I was going to get majorly wasted. I told them I was so thankful for their support and that I loved them. Their friendship meant the world to me. I was a happy drunk and I professed my love for each and every one of them…at least that’s what they told me.
Soon after, Evie, ran over to me to tell me that Yummy was acting bizarre in the hotel room and that she requested my presence. When I opened the hotel room I found Yummy inebriated, naked, crying, and jumping around on the hotel beds. This was an immediate buzzkill. I quickly shut the door on my friends who were right behind me. They didn’t need to see this absolute shit show. I grabbed a bath towel and wrapped it around Yummy. She fell into my lap and began to bawl. This was her first funeral and she couldn’t believe my dad was no longer around. My parents had unofficially adopted her and we were as close as sisters as we could be (we were also roommates). “Why did this have to happen? What is going to happen to us? Why did he have to die?” All I could say was, “I don’t know…” while I stroked her hair. I rocked her to sleep, while tears fell from my face.
When she fell asleep, I soundlessly left her hotel room. I found my friends at the bar still drinking. I told my cousins that we ought to get home…it was getting late. Since I was now sober again, not by choice, I drove us back home. The car was quiet, no radio, no talking, everyone else was passed out, and it was just me and my thoughts again.
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