For my mom,

I wrote a column for my college newspaper which was probably a bit self involved and I am sure I over shared details of my personal life. I am maybe too open, blunt, loud. 

I wrote that column as a way to connect with the public but it was therapeutic for me in many ways. Emotional catharsis. Trying to be "normal." It's been almost 20 years since I was a freshman in college and I find that I turn to writing again now as a form of spiritual healing.

My mom is dying.

Is that too much?

Will she be horrified to read this statement when she logs into my dad's Facebook account to catch up on pictures of my kids or see my new office? I don't know. I do know that I want it to be public because at some point everyone has lost a parent, is losing a parent, will lose a parent. It's an inevitably cruel joke of life. We spend years building this sticky bond of family only to have it torn away. We are overjoyed to have children to share with our parents and marvel together in their coos and 7-word sentences. We finally bond after estranged angry adolescence and adult conflict. The joy of my fresh, pudgy delicious children buoys me amidst the bitter sting of losing my mom. Life is my new manic bipolar best friend. So high and so low.

We were never best friends. In fact we had conflict. Deep painful conflict and strong acerbic disagreements. My mom is the strongest woman I know, maybe will ever know. Her will and her opinions are unshakeable. Her conviction is unparalleled. In my late teens I felt betrayed because she never sugar-coated a comment, she was brutally honest at the times that I thought a mom should tell a white lie to her daughter. 

And for that I actually say THANK YOU. Thanks, mom, for giving me the honest answer everytime. For showing me how to be a strong, powerful woman and for pushing me to work hard. For being unwavering in your dreams for a better life for me despite my best attempts at being a starving artist....She saw so much potential in me and carved out a path to the woman I am today from her humble immigrant beginnings. 

Her ovarian cancer made us closer. In twisted bittersweet ways, the illness that steals her from me now is the very one that made me feel closer to her than I ever have. As a gynecologist it's a doubly cruel strike by Mother Nature. I wish I could have seen the signs 7 years ago. Even now I struggle not knowing how to be a doctor and a daughter. I see a beautiful, proud woman who has given so much love to her children and grandchildren. I am a mother and a physician but I am embarrassingly inept in this department of dying and knowing how to tell her all these things. 

Being a mother is hard. The fruits of your labor often go unnoticed and you often give up exercise, dinners and vacations for the sake of your children. You may make recommendations that lead to anger and resentment from your kids. We are all just trying our best, though.

I see it now and in these last moments I say to my dear Margaret Ning Tham...Thank you. I'm sorry. I love you.

You've taught me some great lessons about being a mother and a woman.

Xoxo,

maika & emlen's momma

My mom circa 1979