A Trip to the Homeland

A summary of a deep experience that I transcribed over my 5 day trip back home.

The Prelude to the Trip…

How do you process returning home after not going back for so long? This was something I had to find an answer to. It’s been 13 years since I last went home, experiencing a lot of turmoil and stress during that visit. Things that could go wrong did, and that was enough for me to leave home alone for a while. However, life found its way to pull me back, reminding me of the things that matter. In this case, life brought me the death of my grandmother as my reason for coming home.

I received news that my grandmother passed away a few days before releasing this site and book. I was working on finalizing the book when my mother texted me the news. I knew instantly that I had to go home. There was no way I couldn’t. The last time I saw her, I vaguely remember sharing meals and moments at her place in the village. But that’s about it. Being away for 13 years made me feel the most distant from the whole family in light of this whole event.

I was peaceful about my grandmother passing, but I was disturbed by the effect it had on my mother. And I felt a lot of guilt about that- guilt that all of my pain and tears was for my parent and not my grandmother, guilt that I was somehow inhuman for not feeling pain for my grandmother’s passing, guilt for that being a byproduct of being the deviant in my family, a feeling inspired by being the odd one out in the family being born on foreign lands, and being separate from all to have that privilege. If you couldn’t tell, this guilt weighed heavily on me deep down, something I knew I would have to face if I went, and something that inspired some small apprehension about going. But guilt wasn’t enough to keep me from paying respect to my grandmother for a strong life well lived. So I went, not intent on doing anything else but that. And it seemed the universe was intent on me gaining much more.

The Arrival

I felt peaceful about my return. Home still looked familiar after being away for 13 years away. In fact, I appreciated it more than I could’ve in my youth. Although exhausted, I stayed awake throughout most of the journey, taking in the beauty of my homeland, and knowing this is how I really felt about it the whole time. I connected differently with all aspects of being here that I didn’t know how to appreciate before. And I began to see how fortunate I was to take this trip. However, this trip wasn’t about fun, it was about sending off my grandmother to a grandeur existence. This would emotionally challenge me, as it would for all who came for the same purpose. And with the love I felt going, I also felt the sadness settle.

My grandmother passed, my mother had to cope with this, and I had to cope with that. This was painful for me; in fact, this was the most painful part of the trip: seeing my mother cry and in pain while trying to process this. You really get to see how much you value your parents after seeing this, if they ever let you see it. It broke me to know that she gave her all to her mother’s health, and planned on seeing her before she passed, only to have that opportunity taken away a short month before doing so. And while I’m certain she has no regret about that, I also know she saw a disturbing reminder about how important now is to everything we do. This death was as sudden as a flame burnt out by a quiet wind. 

The First Major Breakthrough

I cried a lot, every time I did was because I felt my mom’s pain or I saw her crying. This happened a lot during the first ceremony of a three day burial process we experienced. Unaware of what was going on, all of the grandchildren were invited to say a few words in the church to celebrate my grandmother. However, this moment brought me great pain, because I was clearly the odd one out of everyone that stood there; not only looking different, but also clearly being the one nobody really knew. I was a foreign person in front of my own people, born in a foreign land, lived a foreign life, and that got to me. Amongst looking at my mother momentarily and having tears while we all stood up, my head was filled with guilt for being somewhere I felt I wasn’t worthy of being.

I’d felt judgment before, for being who I was, for being the one who seemed like he doesn’t care for anyone but himself, for not going out of my way when I had plenty of pain and suffering I was going through that I had to sort for myself, for being made feel ungrateful for having the opportunities I had been provided to get where I am… And here I was, with not a word to say, further validating that I didn’t belong. This moment secretly broke me apart. I had no problems with it, I’m glad to live the life I do, however, I’d be a complete liar to say that I was immune to feeling this ostracized feeling build up within me at that moment. However, saner heads prevailed, and while I stayed quiet- beyond the tears I had, I was aware that no one was judging me except the old voices in my head from childhood at that moment. I sat back down and was grateful for seeing that, in a motion that I saw that judgment disappear. This was the first of three major breakthroughs I’ll share here.

The Second Major Breakthrough

The next came when I spent time with my father. This was the first time I saw him in a while. He looked about as young as I last saw him; certainly more at peace with life and I was genuinely happy for him. When we had time dedicated to bonding, we were able to speak candidly with each other.

Now as an aside, I was fortunate growing up to have some idea that my parents were also human beings. It’s hard to separate them from being a perfect figure and a figure that lives like the rest of us do. Those who grow up without a father present have different reactions, and I can’t speak for them all, but I never blamed mine for leaving and regaining his peace; it had nothing to do with me personally. I empathized for him because I was also figuring out my own life. Much of this was unconscious, as I was just nonreactive to this, I was living my life away from home at this time. Again, we can chalk it up to good fortune, but I was generally peaceful about this. However, after some recent interactions prior to taking this trip, I imagined he felt troubled by leaving me to figure himself out. I could only imagine how much guilt he had and how much I contributed by being a passive participant in our relationship. This passiveness, on my end was nothing more than me walking my journey, just as I felt he was, however, I saw how I was contributing to the guilt when I had no reason to. Some understandably do, I didn’t.

So much of our initial quality time was dedicated to getting on the same page about that. He carried so much guilt he had no reason to hold, some of which was out of my control. I didn’t see this as my father ditching me and feeling guilty, I saw this as the closest role model I had do what he needed to do to get himself right and feeling guilt for doing so. Seeing that I’ve learned to not feel guilty about doing that, I wanted to do my part in relieving that guilt. This was powerful for me. I had the power to help heal someone who served his part in my creation, someone who I would find out through this time was more similar than we’d expect for being distant for years. And because we were so similar, I was also healing myself for doing the same for myself.

I intimately knew this feeling he had, albeit without the added weight of children. I saw it like this and cleared the air through our conversation about this stuff. We chatted man to man, father to son, and individuals who deeply respected each other without needing to explain why. I had the opportunity to see that I lived with similar ideas and functions of the world. The irony, whatever limited exposure I had with him over my short life lived, to this point, somehow led to being similar as if he were there the whole time. Maybe he was, if it wasn’t physically. As my 2nd breakthrough, I absolved my own guilt through relieving my father of his. And in doing so, also providing a means for a healthier relationship with him.

The Last Major Breakthrough

The third breakthrough came on the day of the burial. This was the most exposing for me. I was told that we were supposed to speak at this event, to say a few words and that this was our last opportunity to do so. While I sat there hearing that, I couldn’t fathom what I would even say, especially given what happend days prior in the church; I had nothing then, so what could I expect to say now? My aunt gave us a template, something I anchored with “My fellow mourners,” because people unintentionally disrespected a hierarchy of respect within the ceremony. She provided this anchor as a way to unify us all under one purpose, and amongst everything else she said, this is the only thing that stuck while my head kept spinning about what I would have to say.

It was time for speeches. The children were up to speak, so my aunt, mother, and uncle went up to say their words. When my mother spoke, she gave a spirited speech that lasted several minutes and made a call to the grandchildren to uphold the legacy of my grandmother in what she believed. Candidly, I’m not the most adamant of following other people’s legacy, but I paid attention to how she was speaking. I don’t often get to see her express herself with this kind of spirit, but I knew that this is the spirit that I have within me, the one she passed onto me. She had such eloquent words for her mother, and if given the opportunity she would’ve had everyone listen for the entire funeral proceedings; but you would also want to listen. It’s the spirit that people have said I have when I rant about things I care about, like when I speak of a world that can be truth as soon as we get out of our own way. And the words started to matter less as the feeling she evoked mattered more. I won’t speak for anyone else there, but she spoke her spirit, and mine listened.

So when she finished, I felt moved by what she said. All the fear I had before about what I would say went out the window. I had no thoughts about that, I was clear headed, or rather, absent minded and soul present. A short moment later it was our turn to go up. And despite my blank state, this was an uncomfortable moment for me. I was the first to walk up for no good reason. The mic was near my face, and the usher asked who wanted to go first. Here, the outsider that was afraid to speak a few days back met the present guy who was willing to speak; but they hadn’t met the guy who was willing to go first yet. He wouldn’t come out unless he had to.

But then, as the cards had it play out, he had to. I looked to my left as we all stared at each other, and the mic was right in front of my face. I swore to myself I couldn’t have picked a better way to screw myself in front of all these people that knew my grandmother better than I. But it was too late to do anything about that. So I grabbed the mic because, as my instincts would show, it had to be me. I let out one big F-bomb in my head in that moment, and then it went quiet as I took about 4 deep breaths while the camera man put the focus on me. And then I began…

“Dear fellow mourners….”

*pause*

And I went on to make a speech about my mother. I came clean about being the most distant in the crowd from my grandmother but knew where my spirit came from despite being so far away. I briefly mentioned how I’ve had a fire in my own life, and how much of that came from my own mom inspiring that within me. I couldn’t speak like I knew my grandmother like the rest of the crowd there, but I knew that much. Many adults laughed at me while I was saying all this. I figure many laughed at my American accent. I imagined some laughed at a speech that was supposed to be about my grandmother turn into praise for what my mother instilled in my immediate family: a 23 year old young man being a momma’s boy.

In that moment, as I escaped my own body to see myself, I didn’t care; I just spoke. I also had an existential crisis as I watched myself speak. Somewhere within those extremes, coherent words came out. Then I realized I spoke too long, like my mom did, and didn’t give the others a chance to speak. I was blank afterwards. And to this day I’ve blacked out what I said in detail. But I had a rare moment of deep compassion and bonding with my mom that I wouldn’t trade for anything else.

I cried a lot, but then we laughed a bit, and just existed while we watched the rest of the ceremony from our seats. Then we walked to the burial site and wished my grandmother off one last time. I let everything go with that burial, all the guilt, all the pain, all the tears. And while I came home for a burial, I found life free of guilt within me. And as I spent my last day contemplating the past few days and my vision overlooking the hills and waters of my homeland, I had nothing but gratitude for a nostalgic, turbulent, and loving experience.

The Reflection & Realizations

I initially hesitated in sharing all this because I was more equipped to write this all while I felt my emotions in stride. I write reflecting on something that wouldn’t be easy to go through had I not gone through years of self-work to be okay sharing this. But I cleared the path for doing so when I talked about my heartbreak, making myself vulnerable in an empowering way. I made space for myself to be open about this, in hopes you find peace within my experience. Here’s some peaceful realizations I identified for myself:

It’s Okay to Cry

I once said I may be softer than I lead, and this experience may have proven that for me. But that doesn’t mean I’m any less of a (hu)man for crying. I don’t cry often, but I’m certainly not afraid to when that time comes. I experienced strength through all the tears I had during this trip. For one, I cared about what occurred; second, I’m not afraid of admitting that. Showing that we care about things is good, and doubly important that we don’t deny ourselves an experience because of how it will look to others. You live through your own body. Cherish that experience. No one else will cherish it like you will. Once you do, others will as well. I stopped shaming myself for being who I really am, and I found peace my peace that was hidden right in front of me all this time. Part of that is being free to express emotions when they arise, and with that, being okay with crying.

Release Your Guilt

While the purpose of my trip was to pay respects to my grandmother’s passing, I released guilt that was no longer mine to carry. I accumulated a good portion from my experiences growing up; most of this guilt then became internalized, where I needed no external stimuli to feel it. Sometimes, I would even beat the stimuli to the guilt. I felt guilt for walking my own path and the consequences that had with my family and relationships. I made myself feel guilty for wanting better, doing better, and seeing myself in my own company for doing so. I came to see, as I released guilt with my dad, there’s no reason to hold guilt for that. We shouldn’t be shy about wanting to appreciate all parts of who we are, the good and not as good, and choose to create experiences that emulate the highest good. I realized feeling guilty about that was silly. We wouldn’t learn to value our experiences here on earth as the treasures they truly are if we avoided it. Guilt inspires us to separate from this. When we face it, it disappears, with love being all that’s left to experience. We then learn that’s all there is. And this is life changing. But this only comes when guilt is released from your life.

Forgive yourself if you are trying to improve your life, make your dream reality, secure yourself a future, or whatever it is you must do to ensure you can love the world you believe it deserves. The guilt-free person who accomplishes little experiences more life than the guilt-ridden one who accomplishes a lot. Guilt won’t make us any happier than before if that’s our motivator. I released the last remnants of that with this trip, with my father, and with myself. And now I’m free.

Embrace Being Unique

Back then, I didn’t know how to cope with being the odd one among my own people, whether that be my family or peers. I still am. Back then, it was part of a story of my struggle, finding no home with anyone around me, thinking I was the problem. Now I fully embrace being different. I love where I am and where I am going, and how this part of me plays into that role. (My uniqueness leaned to my self-sufficiency.)

See Your Parents As Humans

I went through a whole experience of relieving guilt for walking my journey, just to see that parents are capable of experiencing the same guilt and deserve the same freedom of guilt I found.

As a society we demonize absent parents and leave them with all the guilt they may experience being separate from their children, or for doing something they were not ready for; but we leave no productive means to change this paradigm. And pointing fingers without a perspective shift will do no benefit in changing anything.

Parents go through the same things we do, despite our age differences, only the child has the fortune of not being responsible for the life of another. Speaking entirely from a child’s perspective, it’s not easy to raise a child, and I was a quiet observant one who didn’t need too much. With parents going through what we all struggle with at the same time, they are doing what most would consider insane. Their power of love is real and nothing would keep them away from that, even if they are physically absent or fail to raise you in the way you wished.

See your parents as humans, not only as humans with their own mindset, biases, and experiences, but also as humans who are faced with challenges that we all face no matter what age we are. See that and watch how much life changes. We can forgive them once we recognize this as we see them as we do a friend we know who has their own journey to walk. I invite us to do this sooner rather than later. As I watched through my mom, we never know when later is too late.

Hustle For the Things You Desire

Although I didn’t talk about this subject in this reflection, this theme repeated itself over and over when speeches were given, when my mother spoke on her mother, and when I conversed with my father. As it turns out, I have a family of covert hustlers. Little did I notice everyone scheming up something, plotting quietly without a word said. For all those years I felt like the odd one out because I was doing exactly this. Maybe I use different language- engaging your passions fearlessly- but the concept is the same: give your all to the things you care about. While my journey looked a little different, it turns out I’m not so different after all.