• 24th February
    2013
  • 24
Post

to daddy

hi, dad.

i know. you ARE still alive. you’re actually lying down asleep next to me as i’m writing this.
but you’re not there. it’s just your body. alive, but helpless.
i remember when you used to take me for long drives upstate and we’d go to those undiscovered antique stores. on the way home we’d stop by a small café and get apple cider donuts for the way home.

and sometimes you’d take me to an arcade or carnival where we’d secretly waste all the money mom gave you to spend. I’d come home with a huge stuffed animal you’d have won for me.
I’d tell you everything. everything my mom or friends wouldn’t know. things about my personal life, about school, and about my dreams. you’d remember all of them.

you were my best friend.

but it all changed when you got a hernia operation in your stomach.

the doctors discovered cancer in your stomach.

and it was there for quite a while.

this left you immobile, not able to do the things we used to do.

i still talked to you like i should. i kept telling you everything, and i kept telling myself there was hope. and that it wasn’t so bad.

but another month passed. you were getting worse.

much worse. you can barely stand, and we had to bring a visiting nurse almost every day to make sure it didn’t get too bad.

but it is.

the last day you were mobile, you talked to me about death.

your death.

the last sentence you told me was

“I’m gonna miss you, little bear.”

little bear.

you called me that since i was born.

now, you can’t do anything with me. you can’t walk. you don’t even talk anymore. and when you try, we can’t understand you.

I’m scared of you.

you scream and cry in pain every day, and it scares me a lot.

I’d go to my room and cry and cry in the corner.

I’m at the bottom of everything now without you.

and what kills me inside is that you’re still here.

you’re still here, but you hate every second of it.

you’re still here, and in the worst pain i could ever imagine you in.

i don’t want you to die.

but we all know and understand the time is coming fast.

but you’re here for now, and there’s nothing i can do for you.

and that’s why I’m writing this to you.

daddy, i miss you.

Love,

Your little bear.

  • 2nd January
    2013
  • 02
Post

Fearing Rejection

Dear Mommy,

I’m 26 years old.  It’s been such a long time since I’ve been honest with you and Dad and everyone else.  I don’t know how long I’ve kept the most heartfelt truths inside myself.  I’ve turned mostly inward due to these deep seated secrets inside of me.  You and everyone else in the family must have an inkling or am aware because you have incessantly pointed out how weird I am versus my other siblings.  
You have told me then and again that I’m stupid, weird and careless.  I’m gullible and not street smart.  You often cite that I’m pretentious as unlike my siblings who use your money to buy luxuries, I don’t.  I’m stupid for not buying so. In order not to aggravate things, I’ll just buy it as you please.  Perhaps our circle of friends are socialites who’d look down on people who cannot afford to buy Pradas.  It’s a status quo, as you all say. You see me as a pretentious girl who pretends not to need material things, and then laugh at the fact that it is you who pay for the bills from our credit cards, to our fuel, to the air conditioned rooms and everything else that has lead us to where we are.  I do not discount that you have offered us a lifestyle that can only be attained due to a lot of “smart” work, prudent investment deals, deep business connections and keen sense of not getting fooled by anyone else.  I understand that we belong to a relatively rich class with traditional Chinese roots that need to be upheld. That is why I had resolved that I needed to get rich, at least to just be independent and not to be looked down, especially by you.
I am afraid.  I have always been afraid.  I know how important wealth is in the family.  Not just that, I know how the family will disintegrate without it.  Our family that you’ve raised upholds utmost importance in Chinese traditions, that it is considered unholy and sacrilegious to even attempt to be with anyone else unlike our stature and culture.  
What would everyone else say if I couldn’t be successful?  A humiliation to the family.  That’s what they’d say.  What about all the stories that we used to tell you when you were young about the difficulties of inter-racial relationships, more so with someone less than ours?  A crime.  The child cannot even obey her mom’s wishes.  You’d question why despite all the good things you’ve done, I’ve gone astray and became a problem.  You don’t have to say that to me straight because you’ve alway commented that on all our cousins or relatives who’ve gone that route.  You’ve always seen them as second or third class citizens.  
Everyone in the world is taught to find happiness.  I wish that you can understand that I loved someone and I wanted to introduce him to our family, but had feared rejection so much.  I knew I’d be rejected.  I knew I’d be disowned.  I hated the fact that I feared so much.  That’s why I hate myself more.  I began hating myself when I couldn’t stand for the things I knew were true and were right.  My tears that you had a glimpse of, which I disguised as difficulties with work weren’t related with work.  They were tears stemming from a heart broken into pieces because of the difficulties entailed with the inability to keep a relationship in the dark.  We broke up countless times.  I think we finally gave up and he got tired waiting for me to fight for what’s right.  I’ve tried to “fight what’s right” but I know that at this age, I do not have enough resources to even say that I’ve made it and have come far.  I couldn’t fight which is why I restrained and kept from saying this to you.  
How I wish that you could just allow your children to introduce the people they love, and learn to love and get to know them first before giving a disapproving nod.  Alas, I know I’m asking for too much in this world.  The truth is, I’ve only wanted to be rich enough so that I could fight for the things that I believed in.  Without it, you would have always seen me as a disappointment.  
I know that no matter what I do, you’d always be disappointed with me.  That’s why I had to prepare myself financially and emotionally, when I have to live a life true to myself.  
P.S.
I intentionally withheld sending you this letter because I know it would cause you so much pain.  It would cause everyone in the family so much pain.  But, I hope you could see that I didn’t love a man who would cause me harm.  We aren’t together.  Don’t worry.  I’m not eloping.   I only wish that you could have seen through my pain as well.  I’m just going out to make a path for myself.  
  • 14th June
    2012
  • 14
Post

To the People Who Hurt Me

Hello. I hope you are well. I have something to tell you, and it doesn’t matter to me if you read this or not, but I hope you do. You were right, and I was wrong. But also, I was right and you were wrong.

When we had our talk on September 11, 2009, you said a lot of things I didn’t want to hear, but eventually, I took them all in and tried to accept them. You recommended that I seek therapy—that it had helped you and Mary. Eventually, I did. My therapist and I talked a lot about my childhood, my parents, religion, God, Catholicism, and you and Mary and the whole ordeal.

So you were right about that. I needed help to get over a few things. I still feel a bit foolish thinking you and Mary could have been helpful to me.

You were right about Maryanne, too. She does in fact not have a “light” that shines within her. After the fallout, we discovered that she is actually one of the most selfish, conniving people I’ve ever known. She tried several Machiavellian-style maneuvers on B.. Book club has become a chore to attend; B. calls it “the Maryanne and Lulu show.” So you and Mary were right about that too, and Mary was right to end that relationship. B. had to maintain some kind of relationship with her because they work together, but recently Maryanne changed departments, and she basically forgot that B. exists. They rarely speak. We’ve come to the conclusion that she’ll be anyone’s friend as long as she needs something from them. As soon as she discovered that B. wasn’t really into fawning over her or indulging in her dramas, their friendship cooled. So yes, you were right about that, too.

But here’s what you were wrong about: me. I know that you did not understand what I was trying to do. I know that I fumbled my message over and over again, trying to make it right. I needed your help and I wanted it. I was desperate for anyone to listen to me. I felt so betrayed, and so foolish for making such a big leap of faith. It was all about God and family and love; I wanted those things so much. It still aches inside of me.

In 2010, I began meeting with priests. We talked some, I cried some. I met with a woman from the RCIA. I learned a lot about sacraments and obligation, and some things about the inner workings of the church. It was very fascinating. There were times I wished that we were still friends, just so I could ask you and Mary questions.

I attended a Sunday Mass. I was underwhelmed.

Right now there is something in me that wants to believe, but does not. I have read a book or two about Christianity since we spoke, and I’ve talked with a lot of people online. I’ve considered the Episcopal Church. But something keeps me away.

I’m sorry, Paul. Sorry I didn’t understand Holy Obligations and why that’s a big deal. I’m sorry I opened my heart to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t ask for help until it was too late and I’m sorry you didn’t want to offer it. I’m sorry I loved you and your wife, and I’m sorry I told you I did. I’m sorry you did not love me back. Actually, I’m not sorry for loving you and your wife. If I loved you “what business is it of yours” anyway? I’m sorry you and I and B. and Mary don’t get to be friends, and have cool parenting adventures together.

Sometimes I wish I could call you—that I hadn’t deleted your phone numbers and email addresses. Sometimes I wish we could all still be friends. But then I remember how much you hurt me, and my wife. That’s when I realize that even if I want to be friends, to “have fun” and conversation with you and Mary, it can never be.

Maybe I’ll never be a Christian again. Maybe I’ll never genuflect and praise God quite the same way that you do. Maybe I’ll never take communion like you do. But I know something about human decency. And I have to tell myself that what you did was not only “not nice,” it was also the most un-Christian—the most indecent—thing to do.

So I guess I was wrong about you, too. Goodbye.

  • 14th May
    2012
  • 14
Post

Letter To Biological Mom

Dear Lisa, 

It has been thirteen years since you stop the visitations. I have no clue why you would have done that to your four loving kids. Your oldest son, Monty is now a Marine. He is doing very good. Somehow he is actually dealing with the anger you left in him. Your oldest daughter, Amanda is a lot like you. She is 21 and already has three kids. She has a lot of anger in her. She has a long way to go before she actually get to where she should be. Your youngest son, Brian is a lot like dad. He is only 19 and has been in and out of jail since he was I think around fifteen. I am hoping he lets all his anger go very soon. I need my best friend back. And now lastly your youngest daughter, Tori. She is doing ok, she graduates in four months and plans on going to college to become a social worker. She hopes to help kids with the same problems she had when she was younger. She still struggles with letting people in, but she is getting help and trying to cope with everything. You really your kids mentally and physically. They still wonder why you did what you did, but they are trying to get through life as best as they can. I hope you are happy with what you did.

Your youngest,

Tori

  • 24th April
    2011
  • 24
Post

Who

are these women who want to control men and not let them go
are these men who want to control women and get an ego boost
are these people with so many gray shades that life seems cynical to me
are these men who want to work things out with random women in the guise of Osho practices…
are these people who want what they want and dont want any accountability

  • 24th January
    2011
  • 24
Post

Dear S & N

You both are the most awesome women I have ever come across. You make me feel alive and vibrant all the time. And they way you ‘mommy’ me makes me feel so pampered all the time.
Thank you for being there in these crazy, happy and fun times. I am glad that I went through these phases and I am glad I walked out with full confidence.
Cheers to confident, fun women of the world. Let’s uncork the bubbly and drink to OUR good sense and sophistication.

Love R

  • 17th December
    2010
  • 17
  • 10th December
    2010
  • 10
Post

DJ,

Hearing your name invokes a fury in me that I never knew I possessed, hearing your voice makes me clench my fists and my jaw in utter disgust, seeing you though…seeing you fills me with pity & sorrow. Until now, I never believed that a persons obsession with MONEY could blind them in such a way that they could no longer see the ACTUAL important things in their lives. I always thought that these sort of situations were elements of fiction…tales best left to be told by soap operas and movies.

Is the dollar really all that important? Does it mean more to you than the peace and happiness of your family? I guess it must because we all seem to find ourselves entangled in a web of lies, accusations, distrust, unease, and broken relationships. I can’t believe your ego is that big.

I wish I could say that if you stopped lying and admitted your mistakes now that things would be alright and the house that you shattered with your greed could be put back together, but unfortunately…it’s too late for you. 

P has tried, tried to explain that these things happen and that I can’t let it affect my feelings towards you, but how can I not? The only reason that I don’t spit in your face when I see you is because I know it is something that P would not want.

I sincerely hope that your money will keep you warm at night, will wipe your tears when you cry, will help you up when you’re down, and will provide you with amazing memories…because once this is over, that’s it.

- N

  • 10th December
    2010
  • 10
Post

My dear brother V,

I guess I shouldn’t really write this letter to you, but rather to the almighty…because without him/her giving you to me I would have never known what unconditional love meant. Love in it’s purest form, without boundaries and without regard. I often wonder what it’s like to be you…does your inability to communicate make you feel like an outsider? Do you understand it when people say those mean things to you? If only you could understand me when I tell you to not let those people bother you, people always fear what they don’t understand. You give me strength, hope, and determination. I want you to know that I will always fight for you, no matter what. You are my life.

All my love always,

Didi