For My Halmuhnee

It's Mother's Day weekend, and we're bombarded with thoughtful gift ideas for the special woman in our lives. Despite the number of flyers advertising jewellery and perfume, and even brunches, I suspect the wilted flowers from school and the not-so-secretly hidden construction paper cards will be the tokens of appreciation showered upon me tomorrow morning. Not that they don't mean the world to me, seeing as it's made with love and Aisling has been bursting with excitement to show me her "secret" present. But sometimes, it would be nice to have something with a little more bling.
I remember making the same crafts for Mother's Day when I was in elementary school. The gold spray painted macaroni covered kleenex box, the popsicle stick vase, the paper plate flower corsage...and thinking back, I remember always trying to make two of each. One for my mom, and one for my Halmuhnee, my grandmother. Explaining why I needed two Mother's Day gifts to my teachers was sometimes a challenge. Back then, the nuclear family was all that most people knew, especially in a blue collar Southwestern Ontario city. Nowadays, we're aware of the various permutations families can take - 1 mom, 2 dads; 2 moms, 2 dads; 1 mom and grandparents; 2 moms; 1 mom and 1 dad (very rare)...there's no such thing as a "normal" family.
My grandmother lived with us. She came to Canada when I was a month old to help care for me while Dad studied for his Ph.D. and mom went to earn a living as a nurse. Immigrating at age 50, she left a life full of friends and relatives to a land of white faces and a strange language. Her first meal in Canada? A hamburger at Harvey's.
While others would have been thinking of retirement and taking up leisurely hobbies, my grandma was learning how to use a new fangled washing machine, chasing after an active toddler and figuring out how to make kim-chee in a land that didn't grow napa cabbage.  I remember Grandma taking me for long walks along the river in the warmer days. Air conditioning was a luxury back then, and we lived on the second floor. Car seats were also an unknown back then (just for the record - I am not THAT old, and my dad did have a car seat, but it wasn't legally enforced). So I would often sit on Grandma's lap and she'd put the seat belt over both of us. I slept with Grandma. When we moved into a new house ( the same house mom and dad still live in), I was excited to have my own room. I don't think I actually ever slept alone in the new house. That first night, I got scared and crept in next to Halmuhnee and never left her side. I hated spending a night away from my Halmuhnee. Grandma sometimes would spend a few days at a friend's. I'm sure she quite needed the break from us brats. (Having my own, I TOTALLY get it.) But to a five years old, I thought Grandma was abandoning me. Even when she was going on a sight seeing tour with the other seniors from church, I didn't understand why she had to leave. Once, in a childish attempt to stop her from leaving, I hid her over night bag.
Even when I was older, and sharing a room with my sister, I loved cuddling up next to Grandma. And she loved putting her feet on our legs to "thaw out" her feet. I never understood that, as "how could feet be frozen?", until I had my own babies. When you're up late at night getting chores and work done, and you're freezing by the time you turn in to bed, there's nothing better than snuggling up to a warm, slumbering child and wrapping yourself around them.
I have so many memories of my grandma. Every part of my childhood, teenage years and a good chunk of my adulthood are coloured by her. She was in every way, a third parent, as opposed to a grandparent. She disciplined us just as much as she hugged us. I could go on for pages and pages about Grandma, but I'll restrain myself.
When teenaged kids were being mean and gossipy, Grandma told me to hold my head up high. Then she gave me a new sweater to wear, just to give my confidence that added boost. She wholly ascribed to the motto of  "you gotta look good to feel good".
Before she suffered a series of strokes, she loved having me drive her across the border to Detroit for an afternoon of shopping. Grandma was a fashion plate. She loved pretty things, and her furs, but not in a gaudy sense. I often wished I had smaller feet - Grandma had some wickedly nice heels. Whenever she visited Korea, she would spend hours combing the markets and stores for gifts of clothes to bring back to her grandkids.
Aside from us grandchildren, her other interest or focus in life was her faith. She pored over her Bible daily. The tissue paper thin pages were marked in red for meaningful verses, and though she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, she loved to sing hymns. While Grandma was proud of our piano playing and violin caterwauling, it wasn't until we learned to play her hymns that she really took notice of our musical abilities. She taught us to pray whenever we needed strength, whenever we needed inspiration and whenever life was good to us.
She bought me my first two wheeler when I was five. She watched me get rebellious one day and attempt to ride it down the driveway before I was ready. Instead of wasting her breath yelling at me to stop, she let me go, and watched me fall and scrape my knees. Then she picked me up and bandaged my wounds and didn't say "I told you so". I really should follow her example with my own kids.
Grandma loved to celebrate, but never with alcohol. She was a tee-totaller.  Whatever the cause, Grandma was always up for "mini-party". Kentucky Fried chicken was a favourite indulgence at these events, be it a glowing report card or whatever. Like a child, she loved being our confidantes, being the bearer of a "secret".  She would tuck us into bed and check on us several times a night. She advocated exercise, and did a version of callisthenics in the mornings. She once tried to teach me the fox trot, but gave up in disgust when I fell on the floor laughing.
Even after the strokes, Grandma still had words of wisdom. When I started dating, she advised "Never tell the guy you love him first. Otherwise, he'll always be in control." When I started having kids, she counselled me to have patience, and to pick up the babies whenever they cried.
There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of my Halmuhnee. She passed away on Aisling's 100th day, and but I know she is up in heaven watching over all of us. She's probably shaking her head in disappointment every time I crack open a beer, and high fives her pals whenever I manage to make it to church with my crew. I'm sure she's struts proudly while telling all of  her grandchildren's accomplishments. I miss her every day. I think of the various ways she left her mark in our lives, big and small. I still stack the dishes in the way she taught me. Whenever I see the morning dew frozen on the lawn., I know it'll be a warm and sunny day, because that's what Grandma always said. Whenever I cuddle up to a sleeping child and draw on their warmth, I am transported back to my grandma's bed, her gentle snoring and her reassuring hand on our back.