"She's a Strong One"

Issue No. 13 of the Knowing Road

Happy Friday Everyone, this past month was extremely difficult for myself and my family as a result of the passing of my Mom. Death of a loved one (especially a parent) is always hard and the resulting grief (and its un-predictability) is at times even harder. I have been thinking a lot about death (and the death of my parents) these past two weeks both as an inevitable reality but also as a gift for all of us to live a more fuller and present life. I am sure that I will be writing more about it as I continue to process her transition. But for today, I wanted to share the words and thoughts that I shared with my family and those who were at my Mom’s funeral and what her true story represents to me and its powerful reminder of embodying strength and resilience as we all face difficulties in our individual lifetimes. This is an abbreviated edition of the Knowing Road, but I hope its captures for you and paints a picture of my Mom and the importance she had for me and my family. I hope you may draw strength from it for your own purposes. Be well — Stephen

It was approaching midnight, and it had been around 9 hours since my Mom was admitted to the Emergency Room with severely low blood pressure and a host of other serious health issues.  Despite four IVs going in and out of her arms and an oxygen tube placed beneath her nose, her heart rate remained significantly low as her health monitor continued to remind us by its incessant loud beeping and blinking lights.  Despite the occupied beds in the hallway and audible chaos of pain and suffering in the rooms next to her, she was noticeably getting more tired as the night wore on as her eyes opened and shut.

Her doctor on duty finally came into the “bay” and introduced herself to me.  We stood just outside my Mom’s double doors, and she shared with me that my Mom was critically ill and they were doing everything they could do to get her stabilized and heart rate up along with the possible negative outcomes if her condition did not improve overnight.  I quickly learned of the words you don’t ever want to hear from a doctor, “We are doing everything we can…”

After the doctor finished updating me, she walked into the room and sat on a stool at the foot of the bed. She slowly spun toward my Mom, leaned forward with both of her forearms on her thighs and intensely stared at her for what seemed to be a minute. My Mom gently opened up her eyes and noticed that the doctor was staring at her and groggily asked me why.  I calmly told her she was examining and assessing her. The doctor asked my Mom if she was experiencing any pain and my Mom without hesitation said no.  With a final glance, the doctor turned toward me and proclaimed to me in the most matter of fact tone … “She is a strong one.” I nodded and with a knowing that is shared by those who know her well replied… “oh yes she is…”

My Mom has gone by many names in her lifetime. No-Ra (Shee-Known) Cho, Roa Cho, Nohra Cho, Roa Candelmo, and finally … Nora Candelmo.  She was an extremely proud and independent woman who never hesitated to let you know what she was thinking in the most candid words, and whose relentless energy served as the undeniable center of our family for more than 64 years.  Her personal story always fascinated me as a young boy and it continues to do so even more today. For the past several days since she peacefully and gratefully passed in her sleep, I have been thinking of this notable “strength” and how it came to be.

I recall as a young boy, how she would tell me how she was the 16th generation of her family, which went by the name Pok-Tong-Paw (phonetic spelling). She proudly told me how her family began with three brothers on horseback who rode into the Korean Peninsula from Manchuria who were chosen to be of service to the then current dynastic King. It was a fantastical story of royalty that filled my young imagination.  Who knows maybe I was a long lost Prince of Korea.  …Not. Even though she was a proud American, I always felt that she was even more proud of being Korean.  She may have not worn it on her sleeve as a result of her assimilation, but it was … at the heart,… who she was.  

As to her personal history, she shared how she came from an affluent and influential family where her father, my grandfather, was a judge, but who tragically died when she was a young girl.  Her story always quickly fast-forwarded to when she fell in love and married a handsome young American Marine at the US Embassy in Seoul, and gave birth to my oldest brother in Korea. Her life took an unfortunate turn when her family disowned her and faced with raising her son in a culture that would not be accepting of him, gave her no choice but to leave her country to start a new life in America with her loving husband Anthony who was waiting for her. It is at this moment where Roa would be left behind and be eventually replaced by Nora. That was the story as I knew it. Never taking the time to ask her more questions to learn more … which I regret as I stand before you now.

As I have attempted to make sense of my Mom, and all of her complexities, and try to bring into focus her legacy for not just me but for my family, I have revisited her story and what I discovered was a consistent theme of courage, persistence, and an indomitable spirit to always move forward even in the most difficult circumstances. This woman just never gave up.

Through my own challenges, and self-reflection for these past several years, I have learned how our stories shape so much about us in both a positive and negative way. How we view the world, how we view others, and just as importantly, how we view ourselves. At times, we often find ourselves on auto-pilot reacting to life based on our own stories embodied within us.  To truly understand my Mom, one needed to understand her story.  So how did she become so strong?  How did she become so courageous?  Why was she so persistent and never gave up?

Well, a closer look at her life and the timeline of events that surrounded her arrival in America I believe puts my Mom’s life in proper context but raises additional questions which may tell the real story of possibly where this strength came from.  

1935… the year she was born in the region what is now known as North Korea--Korea was occupied and ruled as a colony of Japan.  Laws were passed to force assimilation at this time forcing Koreans to speak Japanese with the understanding that they were subjects of the Japanese emperor.  How did this impact her family from publicly embracing their family’s proud and storied history?

1941… when she was only six years old, when most six year old girls were worried about playing with dolls --WWII began and Japan thrust Korea into the war changing lives forever, where young Korean males were forced into becoming laborers, and young women were taken away against their will for the pleasures of Japanese soldiers. While she was young, what fears did she experience to live in a nation at war?

1942-43… at the age of 7 or 8, her father prematurely died, leaving her without a father and her family without a male head of household in a country dominated by patriarchy….and an uncertain financial future …forcing her family to financially figure out their own way in a midst of a war.  How did her family react to such uncertainty?

1945… at the age of 10, Japan surrendered and Korea declared its long desired independence but that was short-lived when Soviet Union troops began to occupy the North while US troops began to occupy the South. Occupation by a new hostile foreign power under a Communist regime must have created a new level of fear for her and family.  Was it during this time that my Mom’s family decided to relocate to Seoul?

1948… at the age of 13--the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (to be known as North Korea) was founded.  The fuse had been lit toward an eventual deadly civil war and unstable future in such a small country.  

June 1950… at the age of 15, North Korea invaded South Korea, and the horrific Korean War began ultimately separating families … many still to this day.  

1952…at the age of 17, she graduated from Ewha Girls High School and went on to attend Ewha Woman’s University for three years but she stopped her studies sometime in 1955-56 after meeting and eventually marrying my Father while in Korea. Was she torn between her family and my father? Did she have sleepless nights trying to reconcile her romantic feelings for my father with her feelings for her family and its traditions?  Did she find herself crying at night sad and confused in trying to resolve such heartfelt conflict? 

October 1957… shortly before her 22nd birthday, a few months after my Father was re-assigned back to the United States, my oldest brother was born where she would raise him alone until re-united with my Father years later which would require literally an Act of Congress to allow her and my brother into the United States. How did she make it through such loneliness while at the same time trying to be a good mother to her newborn infant?

April 1960… at the age of 24, she finally arrived in the United States only to discover possibly for the first time to know what it means to be a minority and be viewed and treated differently based on her race.  She was the wife of an inter-racial couple at a time when society was not as tolerant, including my Father’s strong willed Italian mother who was not fully accepting of my Mom upon her arrival.  How did she feel to withstand so much and experience rejection in her new found home? Did she experience any deep regret?

It’s overwhelming to think about…and all before the age of 25… Foreign occupation and colonial rule, death of her Father and family uncertainty, the start of a historical political and economic upheaval that still impacts the safety of the world today, two costly and deadly wars that forever changed history, abandoning her college education, marrying someone outside of her race and culture, becoming a young single mother, the heartache and longing to be with my Father, the permanent severing from her mother, brothers, sisters, friends, country, and culture, and ultimately, discrimination and disapproval for simply being different in appearance in a far off land.  I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure how I would have fared in such circumstances.

But through it all, at every step of the way, she found the strength to do what needed to be done, to persist, and move forward.  The word victim or pity simply wasn’t in her vocabulary or how she lived her life.  Unfortunately, as the saying goes, life is not all about sunshine and rainbows and my Mom was not immune from that reality for these hardships undoubtedly caused scars as it would have caused anyone who experienced what she experienced and these scars would regrettably show themselves in difficult emotional and hurtful moments in the form of emotional armor and negative patterns.  As we all do, she displayed the full breadth of the human experience including its shortcomings.  But speaking for myself, I came to a place of peace and compassion where that is only part of her story as is the love and pride she had for me and the devotion to our family.

Looking back, the abridged version of my Mom’s life as originally told to me has been rightfully expanded to become a more meaningful story of resilience and strength.  Her life will always remind me to be proud, be courageous, to keep my head up, to persist and always move forward even in the most difficult and uncomfortable of times. 

It is my wish that my children and family be reminded of her story, especially when we are facing uncertainty and doubt. When we are facing difficulty and need to find the courage, the strength and resilience to get to the other side by simply going through it. It’s the only way.  My Mom taught us that.  She lived it.  She survived it. For me, it is her true story. It is her gift and legacy to myself, my children, my brothers and their families.

After the ER doctor left, my Mom woke up and saw me bending over in my plastic chair trying to process what the doctor just shared with me. In her typical tone, she said “Stephan, go home, you are tired, you need to get home and get sleep.”  I calmly told her no, I am fine.  She got agitated with me, and raised her voice “Stephan, you need sleep, I will be ok, NOW Go home. You need rest.”  I chuckled and responded firmly, “No…. I am fine, YOU… sleep.” This went on for a few more rounds of back and forth, each of us getting a little more annoyed with each other.  I had to pause and shake my head since I was literally getting into argument with my dying Mother who had so many wires connected to her, I couldn’t tell them apart. But even in that moment, she instinctively found the energy and concern to make sure that I was ok, and insisting that she would be ok.  “Stephen! Go home. You need to sleep, …I am ok.” I finally gave in to calm her down and walked out of her room to call and update my brothers.  Remembering that powerful moment and now understanding her true story, I realize she was just doing what she had done all her life…putting her own well-being aside for her family and moving forward with unshakable courage. 

That was my Mom. 

May her life and spirit be a blessing to all of us. She is no longer in pain or suffering, and is finally at peace and at ease. Hers was an inspiring life and ultimately, it was a good death.  For all of that and more, I am forever grateful.

I love you Mom. You will be with me always.

You were UNDENIABLY a very STRONG ONE.

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Until the next issue, be happy and well. All feedback, comments, and suggestions are always welcomed and encouraged.

I would greatly appreciate it if you could share the Knowing Road with ONE friend (or more).