Who "We" are

As I mentioned in my last blog post, my father-in-law died about a month ago.   His loss of life was unexpected and left the family in a shocked state of grief, while still having to attend to the unfortunate bureaucratic details that go hand and hand with death.

My in-laws had recently moved to a community that had a sizable Korean-American population.  This was nice for them since it meant easy access to Korean grocery stores, in addition to many establishments where they could frequent and speak their native tongue.    When my father-in-law died my mother-in-law found a funeral home that was recommended to her by many of her Korean friends, even though it was not actually owned by Koreans.   My husband even went with her to meet the funeral director, an older white (this is an important detail) gentleman who seemed kind and jovial.  My husband agreed that it seemed like a good choice.

I have to admit that much of the weekend of the funeral, I felt absolutely, positively, conspicuously white.   I had never before felt like such a minority.  Not only were the majority of mourners Korean, but we were in a largely Korean community, staying at a Korean owned/occupied hotel, eating at Korean restaurants.    If someone had told me that I had somehow been magically transported to Seoul, I would not have argued.     I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb in the company of pinkies (reference to the pinky finger, not communist or socialist ideologies)  That being said, my husband's family was nothing but embracing and inclusive.    One of his cousins went out of his way to make the girls and I comfortable while my husband took care of his mother.  Some of his older relatives inquired about my parents and my brother who they had met at our wedding so many years ago.   Everyone went out of their way to make a difficult weekend just a little bit easier.

The funeral was difficult but lovely, and when everyone finally filed through the receiving line, there were suddenly just five of us left, my mother-in-law, my husband, the girls and myself.   I watched as the funeral director was talking in a rather brusque tone to my mother-in-law and was surprised at how harsh he was being.   She had just lost her husband, he was a funeral director, why was he not being kinder and gentler?   Yes, there were details that needed to be tended to, but there was certainly a nicer way of handling things.    He was particularly focused on having a few items that had been on display during the service, picked up by no later than the following Monday.   My mother-in-law shook her head that she understood.    Then, quite unexpectedly, the funeral director looked me right in the eye and, without batting an eye said something like,

"They don't understand deadlines the way we do, when we say we are going to get something done, we do it, they, on the other hand,  do things on their own time, whenever they feel like it.   They have no respect for deadlines."

Excuse me?

I stood there with my mouth agape while the rest of my family made their way to the door, unsurprised, by what this man had just said.

I wish I had said something, but I was too dumbfounded.

When we outside, on our way to the car, I asked my husband, "Did he just say that?"

All he could muster was, "Yup".

It always surprises me how my entire family lets racism and racist remarks just roll off their backs.   Even my own children don't react to such idiocy.   And, in some ways, I think this is good.   I don't want my kids to feel every unkind remark, racist or otherwise, that comes their way.   However, I also think it is wrong to not react.   How is this guy going to know that his behavior is completely unacceptable if no one ever tells him?   He apparently gets the majority of the Korean business in town, and yet, he behaves like this?

Unfortunately, I was no better.   I did nothing.   I said nothing.   Yet, I felt slightly bruised and damaged by this man who had been so rude to my family during such a difficult time.   Yes.  My family.

As we drove down the street to the post funeral luncheon, and as I spent a strangely delightful evening in the hotel bar with my husband's extended family the following, yet unsent, letter went through my head:

"Dear Mr. Funeral director, just so you know, you and I will never be "we".   Even if you and I were the last two people on this earth, we would remain "you" and "I", never, ever to be "we".   The "They" you referred to, are my "we" and will always be.   "They" are the ones I stand with in good times and bad, "they" are the ones who comfort me and make me laugh.  "They" are a part of me, which makes us "we".

Despite this, I should thank you too Mr. Funeral Director.  You see, I had been struggling this weekend, feeling a bit like an outsider.    But, you helped me see my "we".    "We" does not discriminate, "we" is not about the color of your skin, or hair, or how tall or fat you are.  "We" is a choice we make.

"They" are my choice.   You can be "We" all by yourself."

There's really not much more to be said.   We stayed at the bar pretty late that night.   And, some of us had too much whiskey) ;)  The next morning, we got up, we had breakfast, and then we went home.  The car drive home was quiet as we were all lost in our own thoughts.

And, in case you are wondering, we are doing okay.

It's them that I worry about.