legacies

"Legacies"

Thanksgiving 2021

To this day, sharing food is at the heart of every family gathering -- meal planning, preparation, dining together, chatting until it is time for more.  Growing up, dinner was always a meal we ate together, free of distractions, a time to recap our days before we split off in our respective directions to finish homework or wind down.  It's shared time we have with our own kids now before bath and bedtime routines, and when any of us miss it due an appointment or obligation, we feel it.

I remember many family dinners from my childhood, sometimes with special guests or with family who was visiting.  We also had a number of family members who lived with us over the years.  My cousin James (aka Ming-Ming), moved in with my family while he attended college in the U.S., and despite our school schedules and extracurriculars, dinner was still an important meal that we shared.  I think back to that time, about how he was a busy college student and eventually met his girlfriend (who became his wife), and yet he still made time for us.

The pattern continued even as we went off to college and met our partners and started our own families.  Dinners would not be so easy to coordinate anymore but we would meet and eat and celebrate milestones -- weddings, birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, holidays.  Thanksgiving was special because if my parents were hosting, chances were that my cousins would join us.  We shared many Thanksgivings together, all over each other in my mom's noisy, warm kitchen, kids running around (and sometimes, to my mom's dismay, with a puppy or cat in the mix).  There was the infamous ice cream cake shaped like a turkey.  There was the piano bench doubling as a seat when we started running out of chairs to extend the table into the living room.  There was Ichi's delicious sticky rice.  There were long discussions about where and when we'd be heading out for Black Friday sales.  There were family photos taken at the kitchen island, with the camera on a stool we'd use as a tripod.  There were early Christmas gifts in case we didn't see each other again before the new year.  There were seemingly endless hugs goodbye when it was time to leave.

Ming would always be in the middle of all of it... usually with a kid or two in his arms or making someone laugh.  He was a big kid at heart, with his trademark black graphic t-shirts, an appreciation for all things Disney, and boundless energy to entertain all of our littles.  We joked about how he was like our cool uncle Jesse, or a big brother who would pull us in for one of his bear hugs, or affectionately  our self-proclaimed "Uncle Grandpa" or "Big James" to our kids.

He will be so incredibly missed this year.

It's hard to remember the last time, because you don't ever know it is the last.  We hadn't gathered for Thanksgiving together in probably close to four years.  Last year, we had a meal swap in my sister's driveway with immediate family only, and the two years prior to that we had missed each other for one reason or another.  The last time we had seen Ming was when we had celebrated my dad's 70th and he had been talking about going overseas during the summer to visit his mom, my aunt, who was very ill and now they're both painfully absent.

I'd like to think they're together now, as we find our footing without them.

I think of Ming often.  I don't always have the words, but as with others we have lost along the way, I carry him, and them, in my heart.  It's what I tell our daughter, when she tries to reconcile what it means when someone is no longer with us: We remember them.  We love them.  We hold them in our hearts.  And we live, because there are no guarantees in this life.

This year, we didn't set out to break tradition... yet we felt spurred by that sense of no longer waiting.  We had to work around Sophia's school schedule for the first time, and she happened to have a week-long fall break.  It suddenly felt like the right time.  We had been talking about heading to Florida to spend it with extended family we don't get time with often, and had already missed what had been becoming an annual trip for the prior two years due to a newborn/cancer treatments/pandemic (in no particular order).  Then Nan decided to join us, and when we made it to our destination, we were surprised by my mother-in-law, so needless to say, have been cherishing our time together.

Time has felt more important than ever.  We're with family in a different way.  This Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for road trips.  I'm thankful for surprises.  I'm thankful for visitors on the dock in the mornings.  I'm thankful for breakfasts we cook together.  I'm thankful for sunshine and amazing sunsets.  I'm thankful for outside dining by the water.  I'm thankful for walks down the street with the kids and car rides with four generations.  I'm thankful for silly jokes by Siri.  I'm thankful for mystery trips.  I'm thankful for late night baking and staying up past bedtimes.  I'm thankful for family dinners.  I'm thankful every day that I'm given time to be present and here, because I have that chance, and I'm taking it.

As we gather this year in our noisy kitchens and around extended tables and the food that brings us together, we say a prayer for those we carry with us and the legacies that are living on.

self-care is health care

Two years ago on Halloween, I had my first (unscheduled) mammogram. I had found a lump about a week earlier and my doctor referred me for an ultrasound which turned into a 4-hour appointment... which turned into "highly suspicious for malignancy." Stunned and a little incredulous, I reached out to a friend who told me to go trick or treating with my daughter, so I got myself together and did just that.

A biopsy followed. Two days later, ahead of my read appointment, I was called into the office to receive my results. In that moment, I knew something was wrong. I was numb when I heard the diagnosis -- ductal invasive carcinoma. I was scheduled with a breast surgeon the next day. And I was 18 weeks pregnant.

My oncologist and I discussed treatment options, what was safe for the baby, and timing. I was already in the high-risk category with the pregnancy, so was feeling overwhelmed and anxious, and utterly powerless. Although I was told to take care of myself, the thought of actually pausing for a moment to do that seemed implausible... I was carrying life inside of me, and it seemed so at odds with the rest of what my body was doing.

For the first time in a long time, I had to refocus on my health, and I had to do it with the same vigor I usually reserved for my family and my career. When I was told not to worry about a thing at work, I placed trust in those words so my energy could go where it was needed.

Time, suddenly, felt more important. There were appointments and schedules as my providers mapped out a plan. There was port placement, surgery, and 2 rounds of chemo, a scheduled induction so I could resume treatments 5 days postpartum. There was a beautiful, healthy baby boy. There was a pandemic. There were treatments alone, with a newborn at home. Then came radiation, and in the whirlwind of 6 months, I had completed active treatments.

Now there was time to take a breath.

The lesson? When I think back to that time, aside from the enormity of it all, I go back to 3 things:

1) Self-care is essential.

2) Refocus, reframe, reprioritize.  

3) When support is offered, take it.

I find myself going back to these things when I'm feeling a little stuck or overwhelmed. I couldn't be at my best, at home or at work, without taking care of me. So take the time to take care of yourself today; give yourself the opportunity to be better.