A few weeks ago, my mom called from Hong Kong, telling me that my grandma was in the hospital, with a stroke for the second time. The first stroke left my grandma paralyzed from the neck down, 5 years ago. She still recognized us from time to time. This time, however, when she opens her eyes, she has a blank look on her face. The doctor told my dad to be prepared. It was uncertain how much longer she would live.
Not being able to eat again, her stomach was connected to a tube, so her body would get the necessary nutrients. Auntie Linda, a nurse, said that my grandma might be in great pain. It is best if we decrease the intake of food, so she can pass away “naturally.” But my parents find it impossible to do, for someone whom they love so much. I pray that God will have special grace for my grandma, and that she does not have to endure any pain.
Throughout her life, my grandma has always been a super strong woman. She was the last and only surviving child of a line of siblings. All her brothers and sisters never lived to adulthood. My grandma doesn’t know how to read or write. This is common among women in her generation. When she was my age, she escaped to Macau, making a living by rolling incense. She and my grandpa worked as a waiter and dishwasher to make ends meet.
When I was little, my grandma would take me to the zoo, to the restaurant to have dim sum, and to visit her mother, whom I called “Ah-Bak.” Unable to take care of herself, her mother lived at a convalescent home. Grandma always brought Ah-Bak the only favorite food that she could eat, Ma Lai Go, a type of Chinese dim sum. “I would never want to be that way, not being able to move or take care of myself,” Grandma said to me. Little did she know that she would be in a similar place, throughout the latter part of her life.
Every cloud has a silver lining, something wonderful happened this past month. When I returned from my visit to Shanghai, I was surprised that there was a vase of flowers sitting in front of my house. My uncle and I ran up the steps to my front door, wondering who could have sent them to me. Next to the vase was a letter. I recognized the writing on the envelope right away. “It’s from him,” I told my aunt and uncle who was just as surprised and excited as I was. As they left and as soon as I got into the house, I read the letter over and over again, making sure that I was not in a dream.
