this is us
this is our family
this is our legacy
the violence that has been coming to light against all Asian Americans is violence against us
we were all taught that this country is safe
it has never been
maybe it was a trauma response anyway-- a way for the marginalized to convince ourselves that if we assimilate enough we will be enough
nothing protects us when our grandmothers and grandfathers are being beaten and killed in the streets with no recourse
these are our mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, aunties, uncles, cousins
this is our blood
this is their sacrifice
our Por Por was the only child to survive a Japanese bombing of her school when she was living in Guangzhou
she was buried in the rubble overnight before being rescued
she was encouraged to come here for safety-- that meant leaving her home, her mother, her roots
we all thought here was better
here is not good enough
and raising the next generation of our family firmly planted in this understanding is our new legacy
our children are not safe until everyone of us is safe
olmec and maya
cacao bites: our chocolate is based on the same technique used by indigenous Olmec and Maya
cacao beans dry-roasted over open fire, then crushed between volcanic stone until beans become liquid
we add in sucanat (which is juiced sugarcane that's let to dry in the sun and air-- so it's totally unrefined, retains many of the vitamin/mineral benefits, and taste closer to molasses/maple than refined sugar) and Spanish sea salt
our chocolates aren't polished, we don't want them to be
they're rustic, they're delicious, they're bittersweet, they're medicinal
we know the history of cacao and chocolate is beyond problematic (Charles Mann's 1493 is a great resource for understanding the ramping up of globalized trade/slavery during the colonial era and how cacao fits into the story and Maricel Presilla's The New Taste of Chocolate is a great resource for understanding the cultural, spiritual, and food traditions of cacao in Mexico and parts of Central America)
but a reclamation and revival is happening
a decentralization
cacao is a power plant handed down from the gods through the people
you get quiet long enough and spend time with this plant, it starts to speak
it starts to share it's wisdom
it asks you to work with it, listen to it's mysteries, and be in service
forever reminding that it is in charge, not you 😂 some dispatches from the kitchen
🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
these are pieces that we saved for ourselves because they were a little too handmade
forever by her side
my resting place: forever by her side
right now I remember snuggling into her thigh and belly, gently rubbing her super soft arms, and speaking softly in our sweet private moments together
best feeling in the world
tonight marks one full week since my grandmother died
I haven't wanted to share much this past week, I've just wanted to sit with this whole experience for a while
this is all a little too surreal and difficult to comprehend
COVID changed everything for us
being unable to stand beside her in her last days is something that each of us will absolutely regret (and also having no ability to change or control our fate at a time like this)
the woman who created this legacy deserves so much more than hospital nurses being our stand-ins (although they did an amazing job)
as a kid I felt a comfort and safety by her side that I felt with no one else
in the moments we sat together, on the couch or at the kitchen table or in her car, we shared one heart
some wild unspoken magic between a grandmother and her grandchild
I knew I wanted to model that centeredness for my child because of my nanny
like a deeply rooted tree that forever shades and protects-- it becomes a resting place, a place of play, and the one spot where we lay down our sorrows to feel seen and heard and held
this was my nanny
our last day with her was better than we could have asked for
that Zoom call was different than the others
we had to wait for the hospice nurse for a bit and found ourselves chatting and laughing so as we went on with nanny it was like she got rolled right into the conversation
like nothing changed
she responded to our voices in ways that she hadn't before-- eyes wide open, tiny shrugs of her shoulders as if she was trying to lift herself up, the hint of a few smiles, and her characteristic rosy cheeks
we're happy she's not in pain or trapped in of her body, but fuck!
so many stories to remember and unfold-- ones that create and define all of us that will now be the balm to the pain
forever and always our lifeblood
forever and always our legacy
and as nanny has said: it's a so long, never a goodbye
dispatches from the brink
dispatches from the brink: I take to food when life is a little too hard to handle
I like to lose and find myself in the processes-- it gives me an anchor in the storm + enough breathing room to get my feet under me
these new chocolate molds arrived just in time
the path unfolding for my family is testing our collective limits
it's testing our beliefs about the purpose and legacy of a life
it's testing our family's death customs by forcing us to figure out how to care for our dying during the time of pandemic
it's testing our will and patience, our strength and tenderness
my grandmother is actively dying
along with being in the late stages of Alzheimer's Disease, COVID ripped through her nursing home
she was rushed to the hospital last week in acute respiratory failure, acute heart failure, with pneumonia and sepsis and fucking COVID
in a middle of the night, an intubate or die moment, we decided to go against her DNR to afford her some time
but this process seems to have afforded us the ability to consciously decide each step along the path
it's given us the time to execute her wishes, to remove her from respirator support, all while allowing her the space + time to pass in the way she's meant to pass
we can't be by her side without risking exposure + some of us are high risk w/ lung issues
we can just have our daily (and recorded!) Zoom chats, calls with the nurses who are caring for her round the clock, and calls with one another to talk through the sharpness of what comes up
in all other circumstances each one of us would put our life on hold to hold my nanny in her last moments, but we're just held captive to it all
just bearing witness and letting go as openly as she is
death is beautiful to watch (we HAD to find the beauty in it after we lost our son)
she's giving us the chance to see her shift through the stages
she is helping us heal and grieve and holding our hands through the whole fucking thing
somehow this feels as much for her transition to a new life, as ours
anyway I'll write more
here's some ras el hanout fudge buddhas to honor Nanny's heritage and this wild path we find ourselves walking
dark and so damn bittersweet
