Happy 38th Birthday, Calvin (a tribute to my nephew)

My nephew, Calvin Choe, was diagnosed with Small Cell Carcinoma at 34. Today, he turned 38 and is on hospice care at home. I wrote this post on his Facebook page for his birthday. I decided to share it here as well to remind myself and anyone who may read this that life is unfairly too short for many people and to cherish every moment with the people you love while you can. Also, let them know how much you love them as often as you can. You never know when it will be the last time.

---------------------------

Happy 38th Birthday, Calvin!

I’m sending this out later than I would have liked but I’m glad I found some time and space in my day to write out something to express how much you mean to me. I’m sharing it here on your page as well as publicly on my blog. If my words can somehow help others as much as they may help you and me through this time, it may help make some of this pain and grief over your cancer worthwhile.

When we flew to see you at your home in Las Vegas this past weekend, I tried to mentally prepare myself for how you would look and sound. Yes, it was heart-wrenching to see the undeniable pain you were going through. But I was also grateful for what I like to call the “miracle moments,” those times when you were able to fight past any discomfort and let your humor and light shine. The fact that you were able to joke about this being “all a ruse” to get all of us to visit you for your birthday showed that you weren’t going to let this cancer take away your spirit.

It reminded me of when I first met you. I don’t remember the exact time and place but I assume it was around the time that your Uncle Ronnie and I first started dating. I was about 21 at the time which would have made you around 11. I think I was visiting Ronnie at his home with Auntie I, and you were there with a few other cousins just hanging out. The others seemed too shy to talk to me but you appeared to have this quiet confidence and ease with talking with anyone. You actually made me feel more comfortable around this large family that I was trying to impress and, for that, I will always cherish you.

Calvin, Auntie B, Uncle Ronnie, & Diva at their 8th Grade Graduation

Of course, one of my favorite memories that we shared was the time that you surprised all of us on Christmas Eve 2008. You told everyone you wouldn’t be able to make it because you had to work and you wouldn’t be able to fly from Vegas in time. Then, you showed up at our house just in time for the family party. You ended up spending the night at our home and being with us for Christmas morning presents and the hilarious snot incident that you documented on camera. I won’t go into the gross details here but it was heartwarming that you still remembered that time so clearly that you were able to pull up the pictures from your Facebook so we could all laugh over them this past Saturday.

Calvin at our home, 12/24/08

I’m thankful for memories like that as well as our shared love of Marvel to bond over. When we started our Marvel Chat group, I thought it would just be an easy way for us to stay in close contact and help you take your mind off your health. Little did I know how much it would help me embrace my full fangirl nerdiness over the MCU and enjoy geeking out with others who love it as much as I do (though your comic knowledge is truly on another level that I will likely never touch).

Calvin & Auntie B at the Winchester Mystery House, 10/31/19

Those are just a few of the many things I’ve come to love about you. Thank you for the kindness, thoughtfulness, humor, insight, and love you have brought to our lives. I hope you know how deeply you have touched those around you and that we will never forget you. No matter what happens now, in my heart, you will forever be #CalvinStrong. I love you 💗 Happy Birthday 🎂

A Letter to Mom — 8 Years Later

 Dear Mom,

It’s been 8 years. The past few years I’ve had something specific I wanted to say to you on this day ... about how the time since you’re passing has impacted me. It gave me comfort to feel like I’m healing through the grief and heartache and writing about it was helping me with that healing. But today, I’m a bit at a loss. Wanting to say something without knowing exactly what that is. I suppose it’s been like that for me this entire past year. My mind continues to swirl with the worries of the world — a pandemic, political division, racial tensions — as well as my own personal concerns with our family’s job and financial struggles. Most days, I choose to focus on what I need to do for the day (the easier tasks) and allow myself to escape the mind swirl with distractions (tv, podcasts, audiobooks, social media). I think about how it might help to process my thoughts through my writing but lacking the energy/motivation to actually do it. I think “just take it one day at a time” and that “one day” suddenly turns into months of feeling like I’m doing the same thing each day without feeling like I’m making any movement toward future goals. Then, after having that thought, I try to remember that I’m handling all this the best I can under unprecedented circumstances and that being kind to myself is how I’m going to survive and be the best mom/partner I can be for my family.

I am thankful that I get reminders of self-care nearly every day from various sources. Knowing that you dealt with your own bouts of depression, I wonder ... if you had more reminders like these if it would have made a difference. If you had more of the education and resources available to you, could I be having this conversation with you in person? I know it won’t change anything to think about such things, but it helps me to think I may understand more of what your life was like than I thought. This past year especially, I’ve caught myself withdrawing like you did and keeping physical and mental ailments to myself because that’s what I’m used to doing. Even when I advise others of doing the opposite, I know deep down I need to take my own advice.

I know you would want better for me, and in honor of you, I vow to focus on that more. I’m still taking it a day at a time but I’m including small steps to help me feel like I’m making progress. I’m also thankful for the immense growth I’ve experienced in 2020. I know listing that out will also help me in my journey so that will be coming in a future “letter.”

For now, I thank you, Mom, for your spirit that watches over me and subtly sends me reminders of your love and presence — from seeing you in your granddaughter’s smile or hearing one of your favorite game shows on the tv — I cherish these thoughts and memories of you. I also thank you for the motivation/encouragement that you provide to write this to you. It’s my way of commemorating you, but I know it a helpful release for me too. Though my heart still aches from missing your physical presence, I feel blessed to know you’re always here to take care of me … in your own way. 

Mahal kita,

B