Photo by Kiki
The love of my life died last month, September 10. I got a text from my dad: "Tammy, Jinju died last night. I'm so sorry."
What the fuck.
I woke up at 7:00am to a text that had been sitting 10-inches from my head with the bad news. I hated that text existing in my phone so I deleted it. Somehow, if the news didn't exist, maybe it wouldn't be true. I cried all day, all weekend. I had a shoot to be on that morning and told the appropriate people to cover for me. I couldn't get over it--I'm still not over it.
I spoke to my parents and my brother that morning. I knew my mom was hit the hardest because that was her lady. Jinju and I had a special relationship but nothing like the one she had with my mom. I knew how sad she was. I didn't even have to hear her voice to understand her pain. Days went by and I was still sad. Weeks go by and I'm still sad. I couldn't speak to my mom. The thought of calling her made me want to cry. That was the longest I had ever gone without speaking to my mom. The strange thing is, I didn't feel cowardly or weak about it. I think we all had a mutual understanding of how we had to deal with it--by ourselves. It was such a sudden, shocking death.
I've had this lady since I was 13. My heart aches for her, still.
