second chances.

Dear Omma, 

would you say that everyone deserves a second chance? i can practically hear you shouting "guh-rohm (of course)!" and nodding your head in response to that one. i'm not sure i would have always agreed, but somehow, i got one recently. 

eight years ago, the fissures between us were great - you and dad had come to new york for my business school graduation (an achievement i'd thought would solidify my standing as a successful korean daughter) and instead of feeling surrounded by celebration and support, i felt the burden of your continued pressures: "when are you going to get married? when will you start a family?" you've never been one to boast about our family's successes (preferring humility above all), but still...i felt turned away by your lack of outward support. so i did what i thought i needed to do to protect myself. instead of spending time with you, i went to see a show with another family, joining in their celebrations while pretending it was partially for me as well.

the weekend came to a head when i refused to attend church with you, and you and dad decided to return to north carolina early instead of spending the time with me. it was then i resolved to keep my life from you...choosing to pursue my own happiness instead of seeking what would make you happy. i thought it would be easier to keep you at a distance, so we couldn't disappoint each other. 

recently, i had a chance to make a little bit of the past right - for years, you've been wanting to come back to new york, telling others you hadn't made the trip yet because i was too busy. this time, we flew to new york together to spend a couple of days doing some of the things you'd perhaps imagined - eating bingsu (korean ice), buying ban-chan and other korean snacks, and going to the jim-jil-bang (korean spa). you told me about how one of your favorite street foods was hoh-ddohk, a korean honey cake, as we ordered it fresh off the grill. i got to show you where i work and introduce you to some of the people who have been a part of this journey with us, even if you haven't known it. with each introduction i made, i could see how proud it all made you. but actually, it made me so proud to be able to introduce you to them. and mom...we got to see that show together, finally, when C took us to see "come from away". 

you are, at this point, what your doctors describe as an anomaly. your cancer continues to spread, now having moved into your lumbar spine. and yet, you've gained twenty pounds and don't complain of pain, except for the neuropathy (constant pins & needles) you feel in your hands and feet. the treatment options are more unknown now, as your care team and i discuss what possibilities remain and how to determine what might be best for you. 

sometimes, when your head isn't covered by a wig or a hat, i look at you and see a different omma - you still insist i take all of the farmers' market peaches back with me, knowing they're my favorite - but i also know that you see me as the woman you've raised, and who makes you proud. on your recent trip, you were asked to share something about me that's embarrassing, and through tears, you started to tell the story about how i looked after you after your surgery last year.

omma, i can't promise that i will always know how to make the right decision on your behalf...i wish i could, but terms like "KRAS mutation" and "MEK inhibitor" are only understood so much by help from the google. i also can't promise that i will be able to give everything i have to your treatment and care...now starting to feel overwhelmed by and afraid of the uncertainty. but even now, i can hear you saying to me "gehn-chan-ah"...it's OK.