Sunday, February 13th, Rob's dad, Mimi and Ozzy's grandfather, PoongHo "Paul" Im, passed away quietly in our home. He was attended that night by Rob; though Rob, his brother Bryan, their uncle who flew out from Korea to be with dad in his final days (the No.5 brother as he was called since dad came from a family of 7 sons of which he was the No. 1 son), and Rob's mom, took turns being with him night and day and had been doing so for three weeks since we learned of his illness.
i wanted to write an account of these events in our family blog to remember what happened, as best as i am able to recall and to memorialize dad. these past three weeks have begun to blur together, the details and days blending into fuzzy color in my mind. hopefully the details will come to me as i write.
that he had cancer, that they found tumors, that they didnt expect he would make it beyond a few weeks, came as a complete shock. they thought it was lung cancer. it made me sit right down to hear the news.
ozzy and i had been at a friend's house for her daughter's first birthday when i first got news that dad had been admitted to Fairfax Inova. Rob had been with Mimi, taking her to Korean school and piano lessons. it was Saturday, January 22nd. at first we didnt know it was so serious. dad had been feeling generally unwell and depressed, but various test revealed nothing new. i guess we thought it was more of the same.
dad had gone to the ER that morning because he was feeling so terrible. it wasnt until they did some xrays that they found some tumors...they thought they were in his lungs. dad had been in a shared room when he first got admitted, but they eventually moved him into a private room on the cancer floor. rob stayed the night in the shared room, sleeping on a small wooden chair that first night, and then a small pull out bed once they moved him into the private room on the 9th floor, taking the night shift (or as much of it as he could) so his mom could get a break, then heading back to work the next day, since he was only just a couple of weeks in at his new job at mark logic.
they biopsied the tumor on monday and by wednesday gave us the diagnosis: AML (acute myeloid leukemia). dad had had leukemia since 2001, the year Rob and I got married, but with ongoing treatment had it in remission. when dad was feeling poorly, all the test results came up 'leukemia' which mom and dad already knew he had, but a distinction was not made clear that this was not the usual sort that he had been dealing with for the past 10 years. and so unable to come up with anything different, his symptoms were treated without a full investigation of what was going on. dad showed me several weeks ago that he was taking tramadol frequently for pain. then later he was prescribed zoloft for depression. in hindsight, i wonder if his body must have known he was dying and the depression was part and parcel of preparing to leave the world.
i took the kids to visit dad that monday evening after Mimi's extracurriculars, we had printed out some photos of dad and the kids to hang up in his room and mimi drew a picture to cheer him up. dad, despite the biopsy that morning and various other tests, seemed to be in good spirits and looked hale and hearty still. he was happy to see us.
the next evening we came by again and brought over some soup for dad, but he wasnt eating much, often vomiting up what he ate as his kidneys became weaker. he was on a water restriction, too. the changes then and in the coming days seemed to be happening so fast. as we left that evening, ozzy turned to him and said, in his sweet little voice, "i weawy, weawy, weawy, wuv you, habuji"
i encouraged mimi to write letters and draw pictures for grandpa and in several she told him how much she would miss him and for him to eat well and get lots of rest. dad told mimi, "my wish is for you to grow up, finish high school, go to college, do great things, get married, experience all the hardships of marriage and learn as we all do, have kids, live a good life."
mimi says with tears dripping down her face, 'i'm gonna miss you so much."
dad starts crying too and says outloud, "what kind of person am i, a 76 year old man, making a 6 year old girl cry." and sobs quietly.
that was the same evening when i held his hand and he told me that he was so blessed to have such a wonderful daughter in law and he thanked me and told me too that he was ready to go. that he wanted a quick and peaceful end, and that he had no regrets. i sat there, holding his hand, tears streaming down my face.
in the next few days, dad had his litany of phrases. that he wanted to go peacefully. that he would hold on just long enough for Bryan and his brother to arrive so he could say his goodbyes to them. and then he would go. but then as talk of trying treatment came up and mom would beseech him to hang on just long enough for his grandson to remember him, he took up a new phrase: 'fight, fight, fight!" mom would say, at least long enough for Ozzy to remember you. then dad would add, and long enough to see Bryan get married and have kids, and to see Mimi graduate.
that following Saturday Bryan flew in from Vegas, and No. 5 (Uncle) flew in from Korea the following day. and they all took turns with dad vigil at the hospital.
some days, i'd hear that dad was grumpy and yelling at people. if he was, he saved it for when the kids and i werent around. one day when we visited, ozzy kept calling him "hubuji" as he usually does since he has a hard time saying the korean word for grandfather correctly. dad, even sick, still tried to correct him as he usually does:
Not "ha BUH jee" say "ha RAH BUH jee"
ozzy: "ha BAH DAH jee"
dad: "HA RAH BUH JEE!"
ozzy: "HA BAH DAH JEE!"
dad, shakes head as if to say, i give up.
we continued to visit dad in the evenings as often as possible. sometimes when the kids visited they were able to get dad to get up and walk around the floor. but all too quickly he could barely make it half way around.
after all the treatments were finished, seven rounds of chemo and three rounds of radiation targeting the tumors, the hospital released him to live out his remaining days. he could go home or to the hospice center. one doc recommended the center saying that he didnt think we were equipped to care for dad in his last days, that it would be a lot of care and that it would not be good for the little kids to be exposed to it. in the end though we decided that home was the best place for dad and we were all ready to do all the hardwork and shield the kids and if it became more than we could bear that we would move him to the center, but only if he lost conciousness.
the day before dad was discharged, med company came with the bed, oxygen, etc. but no IV. i was surprised there was no IV, but mom said they only do that if the patient had a chance of survival. they dont do that when they leave you to die. the next day, Thursday, February 10th, dad was discharged. after he got settled in, he surprised us all by wanting to come upstairs, socialize, eat a meal, etc. he climbed up the stairs with help, ate a big meal (relative to what he had been eating before), seemed almost normal again. it was hard to believe he was dying.
the following day, Friday, February 11th, the tremors started.
the tremors worsened as the day progressed. mom was really worried.
rob called his brother bryan to come back soon. bryan booked a flight for sunday.
visitors continued to come every day, several a day. he was getting tired of them and said he wanted to be left alone to die in peace. tell them not to come. why do they keep coming? dad, i told him, it's your fault. you made too many friends to be left alone. he gave a small barking laugh and closed his eyes while i rubbed his legs.
later, i helped mom hold dad up to empty his bladder and he stood, holding himself up on the walker, trembling and said with tears in his eyes, "i'm shrinking." then in korean he explains that his illness has diminished him to being supported by his daughter in law to relieve himself. i wish i had had the words at that time to let him know that he would always be a great man to me, to his sons, and to countless others, and nothing could diminish that.
Saturday, mom called the pastor to come. dad seemed to be in a constant state of sleep for most of the day, but the moment the pastor arrived, his eyes flew open and it was obvious that he knew who was there and why. he struggled to speak, his mouth barely moving, but words somehow labored out. he struggled in and out of consciousness and finally sank back into deep sleep after the pastor finished his prayer.
after the pastor left, i said a reluctant and quiet goodbye to dad as i left the room to get back to my kids, who were playing upstairs with cousin Jennifer and her girls. it was the last time i saw dad alive.
i woke up early the next morning, Sunday, February 13th, before the kids, and found cousin jennifer already awake. she told me the news as i walked down the stairs. the tears were spilling out before i was even aware i was crying and jennifer and i hugged and cried for several moments before i went to go find rob. i found him sleeping downstairs in the stripped hospital bed where dad had been just the day before-- no blankets, just hugging himself for warmth, and laying there. he scooted over a bit so i climbed up too and we lay on our sides on that tiny bed and he told me how his dad passed in the night. how he'd noticed dad's breathing had changed to a quieter pattern just before rob had fallen asleep sometime after midnight and then was awakened by his mom just an hour later because dad had passed. how hard they had all cried, so loudly he was sure the children would wake up. how the nurse on call was notified but didnt make it out for several hours. how his uncle had to hold dad's mouth closed as they waited for her, and she didnt come and she didnt come and rigor mortis set in. he didnt want to wake me. he didnt want the kids to see as they took dads remains from the house. he was telling me all this and it was strangely surreal, i couldn't make my mind believe it had really happened in that very space, just a few hours ago.
my cousin hae and her husband and my sister nan were coming up that day to take the kids out for the day. it was good that they had...we needed that day w/o the distraction of the children. rob had to go out and pick up bryan from the airport. i went out as well to find a suitable black ensemble for mimi. a gloomy task, but i welcomed something to do, an excuse to get out of the house, which felt dark with grief, suffocating in its heaviness. but it was next to impossible to find anything proper at a time when Easter dresses and jackets in their happy, fresh colors dominated the stores, and i thought, why dont they have a section at the department store for this? grief wear or something.
The church service/viewing was held that Tuesday, February 15th, the day after Valentine's Day. (it was a little odd to have a celebratory day in between. while rob and i didnt even acknowledge it, i still had to bake cookies and make valentines cards for mimi to take to school.)
the service was well attended. the kids stayed home with my sister, Woo, who flew out even though we told her not too. later than evening my other sister, Nancy, also came up from Richmond to help out. rob didnt want to burden friends with it so he kept it relatively quiet, but even so, good friends still came out to the service.
the burial was held the following morning, February 16th. even tho the weather was supposed to be warm and sunny, it was still bone chillingly cold there at the cemetery. maybe it was the openess, that allowed the air to cut thru without buildings to buffer the cold? my aunt said it was because people come with heavy hearts and the blood isnt circulating as well to keep the bodies feeling as warm as usual.
as we sat facing the casket, mimi was solemn for most of the service, but crying by the time she put the rose on dad's casket. and when they lowered the body into the ground she stood and watched and continued to cry. ozzy gazed on with interest. and then even in the car, all the way to the restaurant, mimi continued to cry loudly, my mom and aunt trying to soothe her all the while. after that big long crying session, she seemed to have come to terms with dad's passing and decided that her grandfather was in a better place.
in the coming days, i hope to make a memory book with the kids so they will have something to always remember grandpa by. i regret that i dont know more about dad's history to share it with the kids. i hope that rob will find moments to tell the kids what he knows about his dad and his life.
it is difficult for me to think that my kids are experiencing the loss of a grandparent before i ever did. three of my grandparents passed before i was ever born, and the fourth, my grandmother is still going strong at 95 years of age. i can only imagine what it must be like for my kids, never having known it myself as a child.
the morning after the burial, i guess my mom wanted to check ozzy's understanding of what happened so when he asked where his best friend jah guhn habuji (rob's uncle from korea) was, my mom asked him where was habuji? is he at the hospital? she asked.
ozzy said, "no, habuji flew away. to heaven. his body stopped working so we put him in a box and put him in the ground and everyone gave him flowers because hubuji likes flowers. habuji died. he's dead." his take on the whole thing is so matter-of-fact-here's-the-events; he can't grasp the abstractions of loss and finality, of all the things that will no longer be, because his understanding of time is still so underdeveloped. but he does sense our grief, see our tears, without fully grasping why. it must be making him think there is something to worry about because he has become somewhat clingier to me, waking and crying and looking for me with a greater intensity. last night he had a nightmare that had him yelling out about a white train that was scary and he tried to tell it to go away. later i wondered if he remembered the white hearse that we followed to the burial site, which does look rather white train like.
i dont mean to diminish the support and love of friends and other family members by not detailing it through out this post... all the love and support that came our way these past few weeks has made us feel so truly blessed and thankful. the flowers, the gifts baskets, fruit arrangements, cards, donations, visits, hugs, meals, offers of assistance, help with the kids, help at the service and burial. our friends and family have been a great comfort to us at this most difficult of times. i know i have failed to mention the contributions and support of so many of rob's family members: sean, justina, jae shik, all the aunts and uncles...we are so thankful for your love and support.
after dad passed, i worked on a slideshow for the church service. i marveled once again, at how much dad's sons look like him (especially Rob) and in turn how much my own son resembles him too. i showed the pics of dad's younger days to ozzy and asked who it was and ozzy says, "daddy! that's my fodder!" my imac photo software has a feature called "Faces" that uses face recognition to identify pictures that contain the specific people you are looking for. so i had it search for dad and the computer pulled up several pictures of Rob in addition to pics of dad. that's how similar they look, that even little kids and computers get them confused. and in this small way, dad lives on in them. and not just in appearance, but there's a kindness, a goodness that dad had in spades that also lives on in his boys and i hope in my children too. if there's ever a legacy i hope continues it is dad's kindness and genuine care for others. in the time that i have known him, he was always a gentle, loving, good person. and i am deeply saddened that my children will not know him as they grow up. mimi has some memories of him that she will remember, but i am saddened that ozzy may not long remember his gentleness, his kindness, his sense of humor, his entertaining little stories, his "PMA" (positive mental attitude, he calls it. his code to live by.), endearing quirks, his fondness for words (esp words like "whatchamacalits" and "thingamabobs") and how he was always able to find the good in everyone.
i remember the first time i made a korean meal for dad and set out the traditional dwengjang jiggae, he tasted it and said to mom, 'this is terrible. too salty." mom nudged him and told him quietly that i had made it from scratch for the first time, and he looks up and says, sang you made this? it's DELICIOUS! the best i've ever had. then proceeded to eat every drop. thanked me for the WONderful dinner and told me not to go thru the trouble next time. please.
still brings a smile to my face to think of it.
Beautiful Sang, beautiful.
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