I decided early on that I wouldn’t be going to all four of my classes today, two in which attendance is mandatory. I could’ve but I didn’t want to. So no, I guess I couldn’t have gone to every class, interacted with people, and pretended that it was a normal day. 

If this was a normal day, I would have been able to call my dad across the oceans, remind him that yes it is indeed his birthday again, ask him if he got whatever gift my brothers and I might’ve sent him, and it’s going to sound silly, wonder like I did every year if I’d ever get to see him blow out candles one day.

It’s been a few months since he officially died, but I guess I haven’t completely understood what normal is yet. Nor do people officially die if you love them.


I made a list last night. Of things to do that would make me not stay in bed and cry all day. Weak I know, give me a break. I used to not cry at all, I’m not that person anymore. I cry less than you think though.

Things to do:

Call Wicky
Call Mommy
Call William
Call Selina/Johnny
Call rest of Family in Hong Kong 
Annotated Bibliography
Read/catch up in History2B
Lecture slides on 102G
Ask Brendan what I missed in Theatre
Go to the beach
Clean/Laundry/Sheets
Wear his shirt
Look up tattoo parlors
Be happy. Be okay. Be brave.
Pray. 
Call Bill Haywood. 

So…what did I do exactly.

I woke up. And like every day, for the past 6 months and 24 days, I re-realize, re-feel. 

I called my family members. My brother called me before I called him. He’s always better at expressing the things both of us don’t want to express. He said he went to a temple. He said that that environment helped him. I said I was grateful. I love my brother more than words can explain. We donated money to the Hong Kong Cancer Society yesterday. I think we’ll be doing that every year from now on. I didn’t do any homework at all. Go figure. I walked in the rain, gaged I wouldn’t be able to go to the beach after all. I did my laundry, cleaned my room, and then my living room as well. I looked up tattoo places.

I didn’t open the DHL package that holds my dad’s shirt in it. I had it sent to me when he first passed away. I had left Hong Kong without it, but I wanted that shirt even though I had taken as much of his things as possible when leaving. So they sent me that shirt. I never opened it. It’s in a package under my bed. I didn’t need to open it today. Or maybe I can’t open it today. Because it might smell like him, or worst, it might not anymore. So that’s that. 

I read from my Kindle. In Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, I got to the chapter that describes the boy discovering his father is in one of the Twin Towers when the planes hit. I don’t finish that chapter today. 

I played music. I learned a new song on the ukelele and sang a few words in the shower. And even if the day ended at that, I think it would have been okay. I love music, the way I love acting, but it scares me, the way things I love scare me. But I did that today. I talked to friends who did come to my apartment, and the ones who made an effort to see me, even if they didn’t know their effort was even more appreciated than usual. I talked to my best friends from home, who called, voxed, voicemailed it for no reason or maybe for a reason. I ate my meals and I took my medicine for my cold. 

I had a conference call for the External Office and I went to my sorority meeting. I walked back, got different pairs of shoes wet today. 

I called Bill Haywood. The nice 70 something year old man remembered my voice from the phone and asked if I wanted to hold a carwash at the church again. I said no, that this time I wanted to know if I could take him up on his offer of giving me a ride to church if I ever wanted to go, just for kicks. He laughed and asked if he could set me up with his 29 year old son. I laughed and apologized, saying I really just wanted to try going to church just to see what it’d feel like. So that’s that. 

I think the day would have been okay. Even if I didn’t do any homework and get to go to the beach and breath. I was ready to go to sleep, even though I wish there was more I could do to make this day mean more.

But Jennifer texted me telling me she finished adding the final edits to our Post Secret video. I have to be at Senator Barbara Boxer’s office in about 3 hours now, but I decided I’d upload it at 1AM anyway. Then someone genuinely surprised me. I left my apartment and had a really weird experience. It was hard, but I’d say for now, worth it. I was cold, vulnerable, and in the middle of the street for a long time, but this time around, things will be better. And even if they’re not, I’m strong enough to know that I deserve more. And even though it shouldn’t, knowing that this person is back, makes me feel better.

I just came home and looked at the screen I left open when I went out. The video is being watched by people. And it’s beautiful. People are actually watching it. That’s already more than I ever hoped for.

I’m not in the video obviously. The things I would’ve shared are things I can write in the forms of stories or well thought out blog posts. Actual secrets, well the one person I truly needed to share them with, passed away this July. I’ll work on it. I like that people are just watching the video. The people Elizabeth, Jennifer, Patrick, and I had the opportunity to meet and talk to, are reflecting a bit of my own vulnerability, and my own desire to be brave, for the world to see. So that’s enough for now. Maybe next time. Until then, I am thankful that…I have the days that I do. I am thankful that even on the days that I think I’m just trying to bear through it, sometimes things make it more than just bearable. 

I am sad. I miss my dad. I think cancer is a bitch and it’s an ugly thing for taking away my dad from me and all the people that still desperately needed him. It’s a really ugly thing for threatening to take away Jess- my beautiful inspiration for and apartmentmate in the video. I think it’s stupid and terrible and all very unfair still, but that honestly doesn’t mean jack shit.

You deal with those emotions. Emotions such as pain, sadness, anger, bitterness, plain and pure grief…you deal with those. And you take things like hope, happiness, laughter, art, faith, ability, love….and you thrive. You thrive on all of those things and whatever else you need to. You live a life to the best of your ability that is worth being celebrated. I wish we went and had a big fucking birthday party for my dad today. But you know what…it’s not that easy. But we could have. He lived a beautiful 55 years even if he deserved to live more. There’s not much I can let myself think or say about that without feeling nauseous or out of breath. Except I guess it’s good. It’s good that we’re still here, his family and the people who will love him past time, are still here. This may seem like a reoccurring sentence, theme, post on this blog. You’d be surprised how often we need to remind ourselves of that.

So.

Sigh. Take that as a pliable sigh, both sad but maybe possibly accepting. Here’s a moderated secret. Every thing still feels too heavy every day. I am doing my best balancing all the things that I choose to do everyday to live life fully, but I feel heavy all the time. Too much love and regret and no tangible place to direct it to. But it’ll all turn into something.

Happy happy happy birthday Daddy. Thank you for always teaching me to be honest, with myself above all else, and to be brave. Trying. We try harder the next. 

Haha this is a really long post huh. Well it’s been a really long day, but I guess it’s better than it having been just a sad one. If anything, it was almost good, and I love that.