march is the longest month
birthday reflections: nuances of grief, what is redemption, deserving of good things
Even by weather alone, March feels like the longest month here in Michigan. It’s the anticipation of spring as the daylight remains minutes longer each day and it’s the hope of just maybe trading in our 3 layered parkas to 2 layered ones.
But then, a snowstorm hits and then another and we are soon reminded that this might be just the beginning of more moving through the darkness with steadiness and slowness- even when we are ready to run.
Much like the weather in March, personal events that have happened on this month has long been marked by grief on top of grief. Born on my halmoni’s (grandma in Korean) birthday is bittersweet. It’s an honor to share the day with her, but unlike many people I know, I was not close to my halmoni. Because she lived only 15 minutes away from us, we saw her weekly. I spent time with her, but I am not sure if she saw me - I mean really saw me because she always preferred to be loved by her grandsons, not granddaughters.
Sometimes you can carry grief that you didn’t know was there until later.
Grief changes not only with time, but with what else might be happening in our lives that might trigger the hurt on another level. Recent years, I’ve been thinking about my umma. She must have felt rejected- for her own mother to not adore her granddaughters who are extensions of her. I can’t imagine the pain. So, grief around my halmoni is a bit complicated because in a way, I am grieving for my umma as well.
but, what grief isn’t complicated. and what grief isn’t a calling to belong, to be seen.
The greatest grief that I carry is the long anticipated call my husband and I thought we would receive in March- that we are accepted to be adoptive parents. Grief was greater because our love was great. During the month of March in 2018, we started to decorate the room that is now our yoga/meditation room and even bought a few art work. In all honesty, we never thought it wouldn’t work. We could see ourselves as being wonderful, caring parents.
Grief was greater because our love was great. One day later, I will be ready to share our full story. This rejection shattered us to pieces - individually and collectively as a family. This led to grieving our marriage too. Pieces we are still picking up, pieces only we can see.
March is a forever month. It feels like a full year.
So it’s hard when you are supposed to be thinking about your birth on your birthday and giving thanks, but all you can think about are goodbyes and deaths. Funerals you held in your heart.
redemption for our grief
We want it to be worth, something. I have to be honest and say, sometimes, I want more than resilience, strength, and empathy- I know loss over loss has built up these muscles I am pretty good at using now, but some days
it isn’t enough. I want something else. Maybe you can relate.
We want to see and hold a rebirthing of something. At least I do.
My book comes out, ironically exactly one month after my birthday - April 3, 2023. Can I say this book redeemed my dreams of being a parent? No, it never will. Can I say it offers a strange kind of healing that this is happening at this time? Absolutely yes.
Redemption. But, not in a way we would have expected. Life is not transactional and you know, I am grateful that it isn’t. Because if this were to be true, then there are a lot of good in my life I am not deserving of. And, a lot of bad I don’t deserve either.
So, here in this season and what I am learning is that redemption doesn’t always mean a full circle moment.
I see redemption as hope-
hope that there is still good. a full life is still possible- even so
even so.
I am capable of still loving
still dreaming of new dreams. To me, that is a miracle because let me tell you, when Leo and I realized we won’t be parents after all, I didn’t think I could possibly want anything else in this life. When you feel like you might not be able to love anything again, it’s a scary feeling.
but, you know what?
I took a walk on this cold snowy day in March and I felt the cold on my cheeks. My eyes caught the glistening snow hugging the branches and heard the crunching of snow beneath my feet as I chugged the walk slowly and surely that sometimes felt heavy - very heavy
but it was good. I saw the good.
43 feels different than any other years, grief feels different too. It seems to be moving more- some days, it feels like a hug to let me know how much love I have in me, and other days, it makes me annoyed at myself for caring a little too much.
The best I can do is to stay open to it all and walk in it with compassion.
Since I turned 40 I have been declaring an affirmation to myself on the words that seem to embrace that coming year and words to cling to when it gets hard. My affirmation for year 43: I won’t say no to good things.
I won’t say no to good things.
I hope for this for you, too: you won’t say no to good things.
you are deserving
we are deserving
even so.
words to carry with you when your grief feels long
dearest you,
I don’t know where you have been and what you are going through. I am sorry it hurts. I am sorry it’s there. I know grief can feel like a friend who has overstayed their welcome and you are ready for them to go. You are ready to say goodbye. But they seem to want to be your forever roommate. I know how that goes. I hope for this grief to be generous towards you and give you some space.
It’s okay if others are celebrating and you can’t. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay if you feel that your grief is annoying to others. You are allowed to feel this way. Just don’t stop being you. You are allowed to feel happy, proud, even excited. Don’t hide this part of you. Sometimes, experiencing and expressing joy is grief’s biggest challenge. You are allowed to be both. Don’t force what you are not.
This thing that you are missing, I know it feels like a giant hole in your heart. And, even so, I believe there is still good.
You and I won’t stop saying no to good things. You will love again.
wishing you hope this week,
kyunghee