We Will Follow As He Leads

Though most people reading this already know that we have made a decision to move back to America at the end of the school year (March 2013), I thought I'd share more about why we made that decision and our emotions surrounding it.

First of all, I want to make it clear that our decision to leave after 2 years has NOTHING to do with the school or hard feelings against it.  Quite the opposite, really: having such an amazing teaching position with wonderful coworkers and fantastic bosses in the Immersion program made this decision to leave so difficult and so heart breaking!  Our decision to leave was mostly the result of my father's sudden death and my need to seek emotional support in the grieving and healing process.  

It's true that grieving the loss of a loved one is difficult no matter where you are in the world; however, being so far from my family, in a place where I cannot receive counseling or bereavement support, has made the struggle even worse.  I don't really have anyone to talk to (besides Kris) about it: and while my supervisors and friends here have been very supportive, kind and understanding, I have just not been my self since my dad died and I really need to join a grief support group and start the healing process now, rather than bury my emotions and "just try to be normal".  The truth is, life isn't normal right now.  The joy of teaching is starting to fade, not because my kids or the school, but because the day-to-day of just existing, fighting insomnia, and trying to cope with my loss is just exhausting.  I know it will be hard in America, too, but at least I will have help in navigating the grief.

People keep asking me, "Are you excited to be moving back to America?" or, "What will you do when you move back?"  Honestly, no, I'm not excited to be moving back to America.  Don't get me wrong: I am thrilled that I will be with my family, close friends, and church family again.  But I'm not excited to leave behind this experience, this wonderful school, my two supportive bosses that I love working for, my sweet kids, and traveling all around Asia.  I'm not in any way looking forward to the uncertainty of the job hunt and re-experiencing the profound loss of my father.

If, when we move back, I don't seem as excited as you anticipated or I keep reminiscing about Japan and MeySen as though they were my first loves long gone, please just have patience with me.  When you next see me I will still be grieving: both the loss of my father (which will still be raw and real) and the closing of this chapter in my life.

A Eulogy for my Father

My dad, Tim Tomko

During the afternoon of Saturday, September 15, 2012, my father was cycling in Beaver, Pennsylvania when he had an apparent heart attack and passed away suddenly.  It was a shock because my father had been eating healthier, exercising more, and losing weight during the past few years.  He had always said he didn't want to grow old, and he died while doing something he loved, I just wished it hadn't been so soon (at the age of 55, he wasn't even old yet!) and that I hadn't been in Japan when it happened.

It's too hard for me to write (and publicly publish) what it was like to get the call from my mother early on a Sunday morning (Japan time), to hurriedly pack and travel for 24 hours, sobbing off-and-on the whole time.  I'm not ready to share how I felt doing things I never thought I'd be doing so soon -- helping to plan a funeral service, choose a casket, pick out the last tie and suit my sharply-dressed father would wear, design a headstone.  These things are too raw and too personal to write about on the internet.  They are meant for intimate conversations.  What I will say is that losing my father so suddenly and so early has been terribly, horribly difficult and heart-breaking.  Maybe later I will write on this blog about my feelings and what those awful moments were like, but maybe not.

Instead, now, I will share the eulogy that I gave at my father's service on Thursday, September 20, 2012.  On the back of the program for the service there was a quote that we had found on my dad's phone, a photo he had taken at the end of June.  It read, "...and in the end, it's not the years in the life, but the life in the years."

My dad walking me down the aisle
October 2009

Here is the eulogy I gave at my dad's service:

Everyone here knew Tim in a different way. He was a kind friend, a dedicated teacher, and a loving son, brother, and uncle. I’d like to share with you how my sister and I knew him our adoring father.

From the moment we were born, my dad adored my sister Madelyn, my brother Jordan, and me. He wasn't always the best at expressing his feelings or emotions, but I know he loved us and was proud of us. In the past 3 days, we’ve met several people who know about us just from my proud papa talking about us. As a baby, I would scream and cry when I was in my dad’s arms unless he walked around with me. So, patiently, he would spend hours walking around our small trailer home with me, not sitting down.

I remember, when I was a kid, we would have Saturday night wrestling matches. The matches always ended with me laughing hysterically – he won all the time, of course. I understand that when they were younger, my dad and his older brother Greg would have similar wrestling matches. Though my uncle might not admit it, my Grandma said my dad usually won those matches, too.

My father was a very talented man. He was a skilled wood-worker who made gorgeous gifts for people. For several years he built playhouses that were auctioned off or sold for CASA Beaver County. My father was a perfectionist at everything he did, so the playhouses he built – along with everything else he made – were a work of art. In college he got into photography and even photographed his long-time friend Gregg's wedding. In recent years he had gotten into painting – he did the painting that is hanging on the wall.
When my dad did something, he fully committed to it. He was a top-rate fencer in college. He loved his motorcycle and grew so knowledgeable about them that he spent some time working at Tracy’s World of Cycles. Later, he became a cigar connoisseur. He enjoyed spending time at King Beaver Cigars in Monaca. My dad related best to people over cigars. He even gave them out at my wedding reception. You might even call him a “cigar pusher”. I think he was responsible for many peoples' bad habits. He also loved cycling, drinking coffee from Sheetz, a good beer, and a nice suit and tie. He always noticed and appreciated when someone wore nice shoes. When he and my mother Meg had been married, my father had literally bought her an entire closet worth of shoes. He enjoyed riling up his sister Gretchen's dogs. He was his father Steve's fishing and hunting buddy. He put hot sauce on everything – including popcorn. One Christmas, he challenged his brother Greg and his nephew Michael to challenge him to a hot-sauce eating contest. By the end they had ran out of chips and were eating patzells coated in hot sauce. 

I'm sure that many people here know what a funny guy my dad was. He loved to laugh and joke with people. One time on a white water rafting trip with his family, my dad convinced his nephew Michael that it was imperative to wear half of a milk jug on his head as a safety device. So Michael wore that milk jug on his head down the river.

Teaching was one of my father's greatest passions. He loved his students and he loved teaching industrial arts and technology classes. As children, my sister and I spent many hours playing around in my dad's woodshop under his supervision. My dad was the original John Keating. Long before Dead Poets Society, my dad was jumping on desks and finding creative ways to teach his students. He once designated a day as “Opera Day”, where all his students had to SING their questions and conversations. He even refused to let one boy use the hall pass unless he asked for it in a singing voice. He was always doing fun things like that to get his students involved. When the wood shop closed last year, my dad was devastated. Though he hated paperwork, he stayed on as the guidance counselor because he loved students and cared for them so much. In the past few days, I've heard person after person tell me how well-liked my dad was. Several students told me that Mr. Tomko was their favorite teacher who they felt they could really talk to. My dad once told me a story about a boy he counseled through the guidance office who had some trouble at home. This boy didn't like to talk at first, but my dad found out that he enjoyed playing checkers. Now, my dad doesn't enjoy playing board games, but he bought a checkers set and played it with that boy to connect with him, and over their games, the student opened up and talked with my dad. That's the kind of caring teacher my dad was. He also coached track, worked on prom and homecoming, planned rafting trips and paintball trips, and worked with the student service group. He also enjoyed his coworkers. There were so many people who worked at the school that were special to my dad – from his lunch ladies to the secretaries to the custodial staff to his cigar buddies to those who had already retired. There are too many people who were special for my dad for me to name them all. 

I wish my father, a perfectionist and his own worst critic, could have heard all the wonderful things that people were saying about him: how well-loved he was, how special he was to so many people, and how greatly he impacted the lives of others. 

My dad did exactly what he wanted to do, and didn't care what other people thought. He proudly wore his biker boots no matter what the occasion – even to high school graduation ceremonies. Just as assuredly, he wore his biker shorts to church or to the cigar shop. This independent thinking was a trait my sister Madelyn inherited from him. She has her own style and hated wearing dresses. My dad loved to see her dressed sharply, so she wore a dress today just for him. My father was a trend-setter, doing things a few years before everyone else started doing them too. His family teased him about the ponytail he once grew in the 90s, but sure enough, a few years later, everyone was growing them. He was a stubborn man. After his last accident on his bicycle in July, my grandmother asked my dad to give up that bike. He just stubbornly shook his head and said, “Mom, you know that's not gonna happen.” Even in his death, my father did what he wanted to do. He always said he never wanted to grow into an old man – and he didn't. He died doing something he loved to do. I just wish it hadn't been so soon. 

There were so many things my dad never got to do. He never got a tattoo that he had been deciding on for the past few years. He never got to retire (which he planned on doing this year). He never got to build that log house he wanted. He never got to see my sister perform on Broadway. What breaks my heart the most is that he never got to be a grandfather. He was really looking forward to having grandchildren to spoil. Kris and I had only been married for a year when my dad started to ask us when we were going to give him grandchildren. Dad, I'm so sorry you'll never get to meet your grandchildren. I know you would have been a fun grandfather.

My dad and I didn't have a perfect relationship, but I loved him and I know he loved me. I'm going to miss him. I'll miss riding on his motorcycle, which was one of my favorite things to do with my dad. I'll miss catching up with him over a beer and wings. I'll miss the way he said, “Hey Baby Girl” when I saw him or when he answered the phone.

God gave me 28 years with my father, and for that I am thankful. Now my father is in Heaven, where there is no more pain or sorrow. He is with his son that he never stopped missing, and he is in the presence of God. I love you Dad, and I will miss you, but I have hope in knowing that one day I will see you again.

My dad at the age of 6
1965

My dad with his sister, Gretchen, and parents, Mildred and Steve

My dad in college

My dad and I at one of my dad's church softball games
1984

My dad and I at my Kindergarten graduation,
1990

My dad with Jordan, the son he never stopped missing,
September 1992

My dad and sister, Madelyn
1995

My father's graduation ceremony at Westminister College, where he earned his second Masters (this one in  gudiance counseling),
1996

My dad with his two girls (and a cigar),
1997

My dad and sister, Madelyn, at her 10th birthday party,
August 2003

My dad building a bed for my cousin, Michael

The men of the Tomko family: Grandad Tomko, Dad, Kris, Uncle Greg (my dad's brother), and Andrew Knight (my dad's nephew-in-law)
Christmas, 2008

At the wedding weekend barbecue
Aunt Gretchen (my dad's sister), Carrie and Andrew Knight (my dad's neice and nephew-in-law), Dad,  and my Tomko grandparents (my dad's mother and father)
October 2009

My dad riding the Dragon's Tail on his Yamaha Roadstar

My dad enjoying a cigar at the wedding reception,
October 2009

My dad and sister Madelyn, after a performance of her high school senior show, Thoroughly Modern Millie,
March 2011

Christmas Eve Service at Orchard Hill Church
Uncle Craig, Aunt Gretchen, Me, Dad, Madelyn, Grandma, and Grandad Tomko
December 2011

Mr. Tomko with his teaching buddies -- the bow ties were his idea
2011

My dad and sister Madelyn at her 19th birthday celebration,
August 2012

My dad loved riding his motorcycle -- and I loved riding it with him.

I love you, Daddy.

Meet the 2012 Tigers

Since I haven't posted in a long, LONG time, I thought I would introduce you to my new class.  I've had these fun, active, smart kiddos since April, and they have been keeping me on my toes.  For a while they didn't feel like "my class", but after a few months, class trips, and summer camps, we've bonded.  I really enjoy teaching this group of kids.  Would you like to meet them?

Tigers Class 2012

Unlike last year's class, these kids don't seem to be too interested in the fact that I'm married.  Rather, they obsess about dynamite, the black hole, and bugs.  One boy is intent on capturing every creepy, crawly thing he sees, and another girl is very concerned about killing even the tiniest little bug.

Another thing I've noticed about my students is that if tattle-telling were an Olympic sport, these kids would all be throwing each other under the bus for a shot at the gold medal!  They seriously will tattle-tell about EVERYTHING.  I'm taking steps to get it under control, but wow, I had forgotten the 8 year old's ability to rat on his/her friends!  But overall I really enjoy my class.  They are pretty well behaved.  All I have to do to keep them in line is take away a table point and they straighten right up.  Am I spoiled or what?!

Well, enough talking.  See for yourself how cute my kids are!

Working hard!

These 3 girls love to play tag with me -- and they always team up against me!

The girl on the left has a quiet, cute little voice, but she says some pretty hilarious things and has mastered the "stink eye" when she wants to pretend she is mad at you.  The girl on the right is ALWAYS laughing!  Every teacher who has ever had her as a student says, "I LOVE that girl!"

How can I not love teaching when I find notes like this on my white board all the time?!

Greg, the other 3rd grade teacher, is the same grade-level partner I had last year.  And he's still crackin' me up this year.  Teaching would not be as much fun without him (and he's a really good teacher, too).

This is my summer bulletin board.  The great thing about being a veteran teacher is being able to reuse things!  A bulletin board that took 2 days to put up last year took 30 minutes to put up this year!

Only In Japan: Sunday in the Park

Japan is a very unique place.  There are many things I've discovered while living here that I doubt I'd find anywhere else.  While enjoying a beautiful day at Nanakita Park, a big park near our home, I encountered that uniqueness.

When we first got to the park, we noticed teenagers dressed in suits and wearing sunglasses, walking briskly through the park.  They appeared to be searching for someone.  When I went on a run a little later, I saw a group of the teens in suits standing around and chatting with kids in plain clothes. As I continued running, I also saw some some of the boys in suits chasing other kids in plain clothes.  That's when I realized that they were playing some kind of mafia or cops and robbers tag game.  They had dressed up to look like yakuza (Japanese mafia) expressly for the purpose of playing this game of tag.  Only in Japan would teenagers dress up (or "cosplay" as my sister would say) to play tag at a park!

The other thing that happened to us later while we were sitting in the park. An older Japanese lady came up to us and began talking to us in English.  She was wearing an Atlanta Braves t-shirt and was very excited to tell us that she had been to America.  She told us about how her son was born in America and how her daughter currently lives in Georgia.  She saw Kris's Kanji workbook and asked him about what he was learning in Japanese.  After a few minutes, she continued on her way.

About 30-40 minutes later, she came back.  This time, she had a bag of snacks that she had bought from the local convenience store to give us!  She brought us orange juice, American cherries, and a chocolate snack.  She pointed out to us different Kanji from the snacks and what they meant.  It was so sweet!  Gift-giving is a huge part of the Japanese culture, so we invited her to sit with us and share the snacks, but she couldn't stay.  I am often blown away by the kindness and helpfulness of the Japanese people.  This story is just one time out of many that I've encountered that kindness.

Nusa Dua, Bali (part 2 of our spring break trip)

As I mentioned in the previous post, we started our week-long vacation in Bali by checking out Ubud and touring the island.  When our tour guide brought us to the Ayodya Resort in Nusa Dua, where we would spend the next 5 nights, we couldn't believe our eyes.  We expected a nice hotel, but we had NO IDEA just how luxurious a place it was.  Nusa Dua is basically a gated community of fancy resorts.  Critics of the area call it "sterilized", and I can understand that, since you literally must go through a security gate to get there and because it is NOTHING like the rest of Bali.  If we hadn't toured Bali and had just come to Nusa Dua, we would have been missing out.  But having had a taste of the other parts of the island, we enjoyed every blissfully indulgent moment at our beach haven.


Ayodya Resort at suset, as seen from one of the terrace lounges



Ayodya Resort's front entrance

Sand sculptures by one of the resort's restaurants

Someone in the lobby played this tingklik when guests arrived and left.  The tingklik is an instrument made from bamboo.  The music echoed through the lobby and sounded so nice.

The Ayodya was a huge, sprawling resort with over 500 rooms, 6 restaurants, and 2 pools (one of which was an infinity pool overlooking the ocean).  It was the nicest resort/hotel we've stayed at (with the exception of where we went on our honeymoon).  As we wandered through the giant marble-floored lobby, we couldn't believe our eyes.  You see, we got a great deal on the hotel, and for the price expected something much simpler and less fancy.  I'm so glad we were wrong!  It really was a stunning resort.

Our room

Every day the breakfast was incredible -- I especially loved the Balinese coffee.  The white sands beach and turquoise ocean water were just gorgeous and relaxing.  

View from our breakfast table

One of the lagoon's inhabitants was this lizard.  He wanted to share our breakfast.

A groundskeeper grooms the lagoon.

Each day, Kris and I walked along the beach to eat at different warungs (or small, casual eateries).  Unfortunately, on our first day, I mistakenly put on insect repellent instead of sun screen, and I got burnt to a crisp!  Adjacent to the hotel was a beach massage hut, where I got an amazing one-hour 4-handed massages (that's right, 2 PAIRS of hands massaging me at the same time!) for about $15!  It was bliss!


In the evening, we enjoyed the hotel bar's happy hour and went out into nearby towns for delicious dinners.  Our favorite dinners were the slow roasted duck that cooked all-day (Bebek Bengil) and the Australian steaks.  The Balinese know how food's done; if only Japanese food were as good.

One evening while we were out, I decided to try Fish Foot Therapy.  It's a very popular spa treatment around the Bali resorts.  Inside a large aquarium are garra ruffa fish that eat the dead skin off your feet.  I tried it out just to see what it was like and say that I had done it, not because I believed in the cosmotological power of dead-skin-eating-fish.  I must say, it was worth doing.  As soon as I put my feet in the water, hundreds of little fish latched on to my feet and legs and started nibbling.  It tickled a lot and felt really, really weird.  I bet the people who run these foot therapies get a big kick out of how rediculous tourists look when they do it.

Getting fish foot therapy

Fish foot therapy

Fish foot therapy.  Are you grossed out, Jenna?

It was a wonderful, restful trip.  For the first time in several months, we were free to act as newlyweds and be as affectionate in public as we wanted, without having to worry about it.  This vacation was fresh air for our marriage, since we were free from stress, distractions, and watchful eyes (in Japan, we are often stared at for being foreigners and since PDA is so discouraged, we can't even kiss each other on the cheek without it being a big deal); our only priority was to just enjoy being together.  It was fantastic.  I think that, since returning from Bali, we've been able to bring some of that with us. However, we still can't wait to go back someday.

Nusa Dua beach at the Ayodya

Kris at the Ayodya's beach

Nusa Dua beach at the Ayodya

Not feeling too confident about these lifegaurds, lol
(Actually, I think they are just locals sitting in the shade of the lifegaurd station)

One of the peddlers on the beach

Infinity pool overlooking the beach at the Ayodya

Kris enjoying the sun...from the safety of the shade

This seaweed farmer was collecting seaweed from the beach (2 hotels down from our beach).

The other pool.  It extends beyond the bridge.

The ladies selling stuff on the beach were relentless.  When I approach one of them (just like the lady in the picture above), all the peddlers descended on me like vultures.  They all thrust their wares into my hands -- one after the other -- while saying, "Madam! Special price! Madam, you like!"  Kris laughed his head off at me the whole time.

Our hotel had grass and chairs just before the beach, which was really nice.  It kept the peddlers from coming right up to our beach chairs and it kept our things from getting sandy.  Also, the contrast of the four colors of the grass, sand, ocean, and sky is just beautiful.