Where I've Been
Part I of V
Today is the last day of 2019. Tomorrow brings a new decade, and although I know a tomorrow is just another day on the calendar, something feels a bit more meaningful this time.
I truly believe the beginning of a brand new decade is an opportunity to reflect on where you’ve been. And so I’m starting a series to invite you into my life in hopes you’ll find inspiration and deeper meaning to yours.
I’ll introduce you to my mom and dad(s) in Parts I & II.
Part III will peek into my childhood.
Part IV will be all about how this all shaped me into who I am today.
Part IV will be a personal message from me to you.
My Mother, "Timi Kim"
Yes, that’s her birth name.
I’m starting a new series on my blog. I want to tell my story because I feel like it has meaning. Actually, I KNOW it has meaning, and can impact others’ lives.
This will be a raw, and very personal story to share, but it means a lot to me contribute and positively impact people around me.
My story has meaning. And yours does too.
In the spirit of a new decade, 3 decades ago I lived with my mother, and it was awesome. Growing up, I have vivid memories of the two of us dancing together in the living room… Laughing, playing, and having fun. My mother was… Gosh. You really just had to know her to understand.
My mother was amazing.
I remember… My mom bought me this stuff called Gak. I tried to look it up, but apparently it doesn’t exist anymore because I’m ancient. (LOL!)
Anyway, she was more excited about this stuff than I was. She said it looked like “snot”. And then her eyes lit up.
“Come on!!” She said, “Let’s go to the store!!”
My mother loved jokes.
So (it’s Christmas Day) we get to the corner store, and she’s got this green, slimy Gak stuff hidden in her hands.
She walked up to the counter, all serious, “Can I have a pack of Marlboro Menthol 100s?” (cigarettes)
“Sure,” the guy behind the counter says.
“Oh! I think I’m sick,” she wheezes.
“Ah, ah, AH-CHOO!”
She ‘sneezes’ this huge blob of green slime all over the guy’s counter, and before I’m able to decide if I’m mortified or amused she busts out laughing, grabs my hand, and together we run out the door.
"But mom, my Gak! We left it!"
“Hahahaha! I know!! And he’s going to have to clean it up! Isn’t that funny?!”
I wasn’t so sure, but we laughed about it the whole way home.
She had a passion for animals
(yeah, that’s a cougar… His name is Corky.
All animals, of course, but especially the homeless ones. In fact, at any given time we could have between 3-13 (or more) cats and dogs running around our house. They were all spoiled rotten. (That’s southern for very well taken care of…)
There wasn’t a homeless animal in our town. My mother took them all. Sometimes we would re-home them and sometimes we would keep them.
She was beautiful.
Inside and out… Blonde hair, blue eyes, and the most gorgeous body you’d ever seen with a personality to match. She was carefree, fun, and spontaneous. She had a sense of humor, and she was always *real*.
Until her addiction took over.
We were best friends until 2002 when, at 38, she was found lifeless on our living room couch.
No one knows for sure what happened, but I have my suspicions. What is most obvious is her addiction controlled every thought in her mind during her last months alive. I watched her decline rapidly around late 2000 and, although I trust God’s plan, I wish I could have helped her.
I know this was heavy, but I have a plan for this series. It will be uplifting and inspiring, but there are honest heavy topics along the way.
I want my mother to be remembered not by her addiction, but by her immense love for people and animals. (Mostly animals)
I want my mother to be remembered by her humor, carefree smile, and eagerness to live life. I want my mother to be remembered not as someone who was under the rock of addiction, but as someone who fought tirelessly to love me, despite her clouded judgment.
Peace and love to you,