Death has always won the last hand

It has been an exceptionally emotional week for me. At the beginning of the week I received news that one of the bosses of my many AV employers had passed away. His death came as a shock for me even though every one in the company knew his health was in grave condition. Days before his passing I came upon his crowd-funding page and learned that he was waiting for a double lung transplant. From his updates he sounded optimistic and that he was waiting for specialists to check out his condition. Even a day or two before he died, he was still posting updates and thanking people for their outpouring support. Little did everyone know that he would be gone from us so soon! He was one of the nicest and kindest supervisors I’ve worked with. He had a friendly approach and would always joke with his crew on gigs.

It is hard to wrap my head around his death, and I’m not sure why it’s affecting me so much. Perhaps it’s that he is leaving behind a 5-year-old son, or the fact that no parent should have to live to see their child die (both his parents were at the memorial). Perhaps I felt that there was always something relatable about his interracial marriage. I’ve never lost a colleague in a workplace before, and I’ve definitely never mourned for the loss of a grown man I barely knew. But somehow the circumstances surrounding his death reminded me a lot of my own father’s death. The fact that he passed away so suddenly alone is enough to bring a connection to dad’s passing in 2007. It has been two days since the memorial; even though I am busy with work and my mind is occupied with other things, I still can’t shake the shock-factor…

To add salt to the already raw emotions, I went to see Ga Ting at the Cultch tonight. The play is about how a son’s [Asian] family deals with his sexuality after his death by inviting his [white] boyfriend over for dinner. Needless to say, the plot already resonates a great deal with my own life: me being Asian and my partner (and ex’s) being Caucasians, and the fact that my parent(s) don’t accept my sexuality. The blatant stereotypes of each culture is addressed and often laughable because the stereotypes are just so ridiculous.  I did not expect the play to be hilarious and remained so through the majority of the show. Then, ‘bam!’, out of nowhere towards the end of the show, the story quickly got serious and emotional. I wavered back and forth between identifying with the boyfriend and the dead son. They both have struggles that I have faced or still am facing – I have come out to my mom and most of my family, but my mom is still in denial. Or she refuses to acknowledge that it’s actually a part of me, just like the parents (more so the dad) in the play.

Guilt, shame, and blame are the three stand-out themes from the show; three things I recognize so strongly having grown up in an Asian family. Miscommunication, or the lack of communication, rather, also stood out like a sore thumb. The show made me wonder how my dad would have reacted if I had come out before he died. Would he have been the moderator between my mom and I and help us negotiate or communicate, or would he have been like the stern, difficult and rigid father in the show? It reminded me how important one’s sexuality is in identifying ourselves – or at least it is for me. It is part of who I am, how I behave and conduct myself. If I can’t be myself due to your close-mindedness, then you’re not getting the full ME. If I can’t even tell you that I am happily dating someone of the same sex, then you won’t know who’s important in my life and how I’m prioritizing my time. SO MANY of the lines uttered by the actors tonight I’ve heard in my own conversations with my mom. The show also briefly touched on mental illness, for it is depression and bipolar that prompted the son’s death.

There wasn’t one issue in the show that I didn’t identify with; I could say that I’ve experienced everything the show depicted. I saw the show by myself, wishing everyone I love in my life could have seen the show – my ex, my girlfriend, my brother, and most of all, my mother. I was jealous how frankly the characters talked to and confronted each other, but was also deeply saddened by the fact that it took a son’s death for the family to finally recognize their son for who he was. If my death does half of what the son’s did in terms of reconciliation within the family, then my death will have been justified and I’d happily meet the Grim Reaper tomorrow.

Fam Jam

For the first time in my life I’ve actually had a pretty good Thanksgiving. “Pretty good” meaning that I had a decent time at dinner. I wasn’t forced or coerced to do anything I didn’t want, and there was pleasant conversation! I also didn’t have the pressure of returning home at a certain hour, so I just hung out. With my family.

It feels like it’s been forever since we’ve spent a good time together. Ever since I moved out and married my wife, nothing’s been at peace with any of us. Mom would get mad or scold me for the smallest things – things that she would think that’s “abnormal” with my life and point out examples of “normal” when we’re out. The conversations between us only involve life events, activities, schedules, or whatever logistical thing that might possibly affect the lives of all three of us.

But tonight, we talked about everything from my hike earlier in the day to comedic remedies for my mom’s dealings with her frustrating chapter head at a certain organization. I showed them pictures of my hiking and camping trips over the summer in exchange for a good-natured conversation. We’re connecting, laughing, and having fun. Deep down, I know we all still love each other.For the first time in a long time I felt we’re family again.  And for the first time I can genuinely say that I am thankful for my family… on Thanksgiving!

Social Media Frenzy

I have recently just gone through the process of splitting my facebook account up into two. Reason being that I’m trying to be “out” on my primary account, and my secondary account would be the “conservative” one for family and church friends (there are many). It has now been about a week or so. And I’ve got to say, this ain’t easy! It would be easier if my brother and I had less mutual friends, or less extended family members on facebook… I might have just dug a bigger hole for myself and spun an unnecessarily tangled web of lie.

But I was going to address my name change, not how complicated I have made my life with a simple fb change (and all because this “closet” thing!). Basically, my new name came from my “new mother”. [caveat: I just realized that I can’t actually mention my name and what I’ve changed it to, because that would be identify who I am… though I’m pretty sure those who are reading knows anyway] A “new mother”? Yes. What I’ve noticed with my gay friends is that they have their biological family, and then they have their “gay family” comprised of their close friends. Now, I am not trying to catch a trend or anything by acquiring a “new mother”; no, it sort of just happened… all because of how you can declare relationships (including family/ relative ones) on facebook. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing and it was mostly a joke. But the name that came as a result was something I really liked and kept. It was a name created especially for me and for her to address me. There’s just something special about that! (I should mention that I’ve also acquired a drag name! Very exciting!)

Anyway, I forget what my point is in bringing this up… perhaps more reasons to come out of the closet and just amalgamate my poorly set-up facebook accounts? Or I’ve come one step closer to becoming a “normal” Western lesbian woman?