Lunch Conversation
As the year comes to a close, it’s natural to reflect on the past twelve months, the moments to cherish, the lessons learned, and the memories to leave behind. For me, this end-of-year reflection feels different. Since COVID-19, I’ve stopped creating detailed resolutions and my mantra has become simple: “do better” It’s a quiet steady affirmation.
This year stands out as my favorite post-pandemic, though I hesitate to say that aloud for fear of jinxing it, especially with a few days left before 2025. It’s been a year of gains and losses, of growth and introspection. And yet, what makes it special isn’t just the year in review but a lunch conversation with my dad that transported me 18 years into the past.
We were enjoying a meal at a Korean restaurant, chatting casually about this and that, when the conversation took an unexpected turn toward parenthood. The food hadn’t even arrived, but our words had already deepened, turn into emotional territory.
Out of nowhere, my dad began to share his reflections on being a parent. “When your mom passed away, grieving while raising a child felt tiring. I remember wondering, why her and not me?”
He spoke without hesitation, his words flowing like a calm, steady stream. There were no dramatic pauses, no faltering in his tone just a quiet honesty (well, it’s not script to script scene lol).
He continued, “A mother is such an important figure in a child’s life. She’s central to their growth. But I also thought, this is the life I’ve been given. If your mom were still here instead of me, it would have been even harder for her to raise you two alone.”
He spoke of grief and parenthood as if recounting an everyday task, his voice calm and his words concise. He had accepted his life and lived it with quiet strength, raising my brother and me with resilience and love.
I had never imagined my father harboring such “what if” thoughts. For so long, I had seen my grief as uniquely mine, tethered to the loss of my mother. But as I listened, I realized that my father had also lost his wife. While I leaned on him in my mourning, he carried his own while shouldering the weight of raising us.
Reflecting on this, I think back to a previous medium I wrote titled “While Life Goes On, I Did Things Too.” In it, I mentioned how my grieving process was shaped by watching the show After Life. That show made me understand that grief isn’t linear; it flows and changes.
For years, I stopped feeling sad or crying when others spoke of their mothers or celebrated Mother’s Day. It wasn’t that I stopped missing her, it was simply that I learned to carry the loss differently. And now, as I reflect on my dad’s role in my life, I see how much of my mother’s spirit lives on in him. He’s been both parents to us.
Today is December 28th, far from Mother’s Day, but after that conversation, I feel compelled to say it anyway: Happy Mother’s Day, Dad. Thank you for being both my father and my mother, for your strength love!
