So during the funeral there were times I was having a really difficult time dealing with everyone, everything. I was tired of small talk. I was tired of “when will you make babies?” I was tired of little kids staring at me (I had forgotten that, somehow?). I was tired of “oooh! She speaks Korean so well!”
I was bitching to Good Man at some point about it all.
Good Man shook his head and said, very simply, “Yes, it’s hard being different for me, too.”
I turned to face him, and I saw Good Man in a different light. I am always reflecting on how it is for me to adjust and adapt to his culture. I usually consider how Korean culture and my relationship with Good Man has changed me. I wasn’t considering what it was like for Good Man to come back to Korea, married to a white woman. For all of the ways that I’ve had to adapt and change, he has, too. All I thought was that it must be easy for him to be back home. But he had to be a buffer for me. And he was being placed in the middle of things, intentionally and unintentionally.
I took his hand. “I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish,” I said. “I didn’t even think of that.”
He rested his head on my shoulder. “It’s OK.”