Grandma

Junling Hu

-1-

I saw her once again in my dream, my grandma. Her tiny body looked so fragile in my hug. I was there to say goodbye to her before leaving for another city. “Grandma, cheer up. I will come back and we will live together forever.” I assured her, almost like assuring myself. I felt so happy to be able to give her a promise, and firmly believed that I would fulfill that promise.

Waking up on the bed, I realize Grandma is no longer in this world. She has left me for six years. I can never touch her or bring happiness to her. Tears come to my eyes. If I could live my life again, how I wish to have always stayed with Grandma. I would have never left her, or I would have taken her to wherever I go and given her a happy life. All I want is being with her, loving her and being loved by her. She was the only person in the world who accepted me for who I was. Yet, for all the love she gave me, I can no longer give back to her.

I can never forget the last time I saw her. I was on my way to the airport, flying away to America. I was in a hurry. With excitement for the coming trip, I did not feel like staying in Grandma’s house for long. Grandma looked weak and tired on the bed, paralyzed by her arthritis. Realizing that I was leaving for America, she suddenly shot up from the bed and held me tightly with her arms. Her movement was so forceful that it startled me, since she used to be so weak. Tears were in her eyes and she uttered distressful sounds that startled me. She was crying, and she would not let me go. I was puzzled by her distress, since I was confident that I would see her again next time, Only now I realize that Grandma knew this was the last time she would see me. She knew her weak body could not sustain for another year, and I would not come back for another three years. How much she wanted me to stay. She loved me so much that she could not let me go. She knew I would lose her love forever after she left this world.

After her only child, my father, died, Grandma had an even closer bond with us four grandchildren. My sisters and I were everything precious to her. We were her joy and love.

-2-

I had been with Grandma since I was born. It was 1968, when the whole China was in the frenzy of the Culture Revolution. Grandma took my mom to the hospital among gunfire on the streets. My mother gave birth at midnight and I came to this world. Grandma liked to talk about the whole stories in detail. Her talk was full of affection. That is how I knew she loved me.

I stayed with Grandma after I was born, while my mom went to work in a factory in Echeng, a town 80 miles from my hometown Wuhan. At that time, it was 2-hour distance by train.

When I was 2 year old, I contacted measles. At beginning, I had fever. Grandma did not know what was wrong. The fever continued for two days, and she started to see dark spots on my legs and arms. She got panic and went to see the doctor nearby, who knew my grandma well. The doctor said, "Aunt Liu (Liu was my grandpa's surname. Calling a woman by her husband's surname was a tradition inherited from old China), I am glad you bring her earlier. If you had brought her a day late, she would not have much hope. " He wrote down the prescription. Grandma got the drug and carried me home. After administrating the medicine to me, Grandma set me on a bamboo bed. It was a hot summer. With no electric fan or air conditioner at that time, a bamboo bed is one tool for people to stay cool in the hot summer. Grandma touched my forehead now and then, and found that my fever did not subdue. She was very worried. With the medicine seeming not working, Grandma decided to resort to a home remedy. She applied the Chinese balm all over my body and bundled me with clothes. Then she held me in her arms, waiting for me to sweat. After about an hour, I started to sweat and sweated a lot. Grandma carefully wiped away all my sweat, and changed me into dry clothes. After midnight, my fever was all gone. Grandma was greatly relieved: I had survived the measles. In Grandma's village, many children died of the measles.. She was so glad that I was alive. I was too young to remember this dramatic experience, but I was very impressed by the way Grandma told me about it. To me, it was just another story about my childhood, to Grandma it was a life death struggle, full of love and ingenuity.

In the hot summer night, I lay on the bamboo bed, with Grandma sitting beside me. She waved her big straw fan on me, not caring about herself. Breeze touched my body, bringing the feeling of coolness. I realized how happy it was to be cared for by another person. Normally Grandma's fan would continue waving until I fell asleep. In my child's mind, I knew this is what it means by "comfort". I felt so happy to be cared for by another person. I knew Grandma was sacrificing her own comfort for me. It was given so naturally to me that I took it for granted. Only after I lived with my mom, I realize such sacrifice is not universal among the adults who care for me. Maybe it was because Mom was too busy. But I felt she took care of herself better than taking care of me. I remembered once Mom bought a can of concentrated milk, which was a deluxe at that time. I thought Mom would share that milk with us. Instead she shared this milk with a young man who visited our house frequently. I was deeply hurt. How I missed Grandma, who would save every good thing for us children instead of for herself. In those years with rationed food, Grandma used to eat the leftovers herself and let us eat the fresh meals.

I remember in the hot summer, I often received 4 cents from Grandma to go buy an ice bar in a nearby stand. After I got back, I always bring the ice bar to Grandma, who was resting on a bamboo chair. I asked her to taste it. Grandma would just sip a little, and then waved her head, as if she did not like the ice bar. I believed her, and enjoyed the ice bar all by myself. It is now that I realize Grandma was trying to save the ice bar for me. She would love to have one for herself but she wanted to save that 4 cents.

-3-

Still remember when I was little, Grandma worked beside the stove, which located on the hallway outside of our room. We had a big room, about 400 square feet. But that was about all we have. It was our bedroom, dinning room and living room altogether. But I liked it. It had a high ceiling, almost twice as high as today’s apartment. There was old wooden furniture in one corner of the room, which holds a half person-height mirror, and two small drawers on the lower bottom. It was the place where Grandma combed her hair, and put her pins on. The wood looked dark red and solid. It must be oak. Our dinning table was a square table made with some yellow wood. It cracked in the middle. As a child, I enjoyed watching that crack, trying to find a hidden pattern. It was on that table, my father taught me the first Chinese character, “Liu”, which was my family name. My father was on a medical parole during those two months he stayed at home. He never came back. He died in a prison hospital 5 years later, two months before his release. I know Grandma has always been missing Papa. Yet as a child, I have not felt anything missing in my life because I was so much loved and protected by Grandma.

Grandpa was absent from the house most of the time. Working on a ship, he came back home only once a month. The house only saw me and Grandma most of the time.

Grandma wore dark blue blouse, buttoned to the side, which was an old fashion. In my memory, she was always busy around the stove or the kitchen sink, either cooking or washing the dirt on vegetables or fishes. In the summer, after everyone had a bath, usually that included me, my younger sister and Grandma herself, she would sit in front of a barrel, washing all the clothes, scratching them on a wooden board. The scratching seems such a fun activity that I asked Grandma to let me do it. But she never agreed, and I gave up. Grandma had never asked me to do any housework, either because she was used to such hard working or because she loved us so much. It was therefore a shock to me when my Mom asked me to do all kinds of household chores after I started living with her. I felt reluctant and humiliated. Now I understand my Mom since she had to go out to work for 8 hours every day. But mom’s harshness and remoteness is so different from Grandma’s gentleness. I could not help missing Grandma in the first couple of years after I lived with Mom.

-4-

My memory for my father was rare but vivid. I was with him only two times, the first was in a hospital of a labor camp, the second was at home when he was on medical parole. According to what grandma told me, my father was a bright young man. He loved literature and was always among the top students in his classes. Later I read my father’s diary. I liked his concise writing and his poems for my mother. His love for his family and especially his first daughter was so obvious. Being young and eloquent, my father soon became a leader of a large of group of people when culture revolution came. At that time, everyone was fighting for Chairman Mao, but actually the fight was between the unsatisfactory young workers and the establishment—the old factory officials. Mao encouraged young people to break rules and challenged the officials, whom he distrusted. Thus young people fought enthusiastically, and the social order was broken. Cruel actions were conducted when the opponents, the “class enemy” were beaten severely. As a leader in a large region of about 4 cities, my father was responsible for the actions taken by his subordinates. He started to get true enemies, who hated him deeply. In 1970, when Mao was tired of chaos, and order was restored around the country, the factory officials where my father worked came back to power. They immediately charged my father with at least 4 counts of anti-revolution crime, and he was sentenced to 8 years in prison. The charges against my father included: He told his coworkers, “Either east wind wins, or the west wind win.” And then one day, working on a factory chimney he said, “How great we have west wind today.” These speeches showed his intention again our great Chairman Mao, who was the east wind. Other charges are similarly absurd.

When I was 5 year old, my father was allowed to come back home for medical parole. In those days, as in today’s China, prisoners had to perform harsh labors. An originally healthy man, my father’s health rapidly deteriorated. He was allowed medical parole due to the political pressure from his comrades.

The night before my father’s arrival, Grandma and Grandpa stayed up all night. Grandma made fried rice with eggs on a kerosene stove to prepare a dish for my father. The fried rice smelled so good. I had never seen Grandma put in so much oil and so many eggs in fried rice. I was jealous of the attention my father got. Grandma and Grandpa talked and talked at the table, full of excitement. The next day, Grandpa, my sister and I walked out to greet my father. Just around the corner, I saw a tall man coming, ushered by a group of people. That must be him. I ran to him, and for the first time in my life I called out, “Papa”. He smiled and picked me up, carrying me in his arms all the way back home.

During those two months of my father’s stay, I saw a most contented and light-hearted Grandma. Never have I seen her so happy and relaxed. For me, the two months’ interaction with my father was bittersweet. He taught me writing and took me with him wherever he went. But he also disciplined me with brutality. As a child, I did not know what I did wrong. Before I could say anything, I was forced to kneel on the wooden board as a punishment. I had to kneel for a long time, probably an hour. Grandma once tried to release me from the board, but she was scolded by my father. I don’t remember what he said to her, but Grandma dared not to help me any more. I was left there kneeling, feeling helpless and deeply humiliated. Even until today, I did not know what I did provoked such harsh punishment. All I knew was that my self-respect was hurt. Yet I was so powerless against his unfair rule. I don’t understand how can a father treat a 5- year-old so brutally. Maybe it was because his own treatment in prison changed him. Later I read my mom’s account of my father’s treatment in prison from her letter asking for a political pardon for my father. Four big prison guards surrounded him in small dark room, beating him from all directions. He was forced to kneel on cement floor for a long time. Has that experience taught him brutality and he lashed out on me?

Despite his severity in punishing me, my father was gentle to me at other times. He taught me to write my first Chinese character. He took me with him whenever he went out to see his doctor. When I saw new things on the street, I would ask and he always patiently answered. I always held his hands when we walked, and I felt this complete trust of an adult.

Two months after he came back, my father had to leave again, amid the cries of his four daughters and the sobbing of Grandma and Grandpa. He left behind him four young children and two aging parents. He never came back. Today, I don’t even know where he was buried, or if he had a burial site.

I remember watching Grandma send out packages to my father’s labor camp in those years. I remember accompanying Grandma to walk a long way to the post office. Grandma would carefully put her package on the level and carefully gave it to the clerk. I knew how many she had packed in that package. There was powdered milk, which cost a lot in those days. There was dried radish which was hand made by Grandma, and a sweater knitted by Grandma after many sleepless nights. Walking back from the post office, Grandma was mostly silent. I felt the sadness in the air, even though she did not mention a single word to me.

As the days approached my father’s release, Grandma became more and more hopeful. However, a few months before his release, my father died of gastric ulcer in the labor camp. He was only 38. How could an originally healthy man die at his prime age had not he been beaten and forced into harsh labor? Since I had memory, I remembered Grandma always sighed whenever she was not busy. Upon my inquiry, she told me, with a hand on her chest, “I have this heavy stone in my chest as long as your father is not back.” A stone in her chest? I was very curious. I did not understand what she meat until many years later. Grandma’s stone was never lifted, and it crushed her heart with the pain only a mother would know. Having lost three of her four children, Grandma now lost her fourth one. A mother who loved her children with all her heart, she had to see all of them gone. Why was God so cruel to her? Is there mercy or fairness in this world? I don’t see it.

-5-

Grandma was born in a small village on the east coast of China in 1912. The village was in the poorest region, the northern area of Jiangshu province. The land was barren due to the flood of sea water. Harvest was not reliable.

Grandma was the youngest of five children. She was doted on by her big bothers, sisters, and her parents. Her childhood was carefree and full of warmth, even though the daily life was harsh. Her family could not afford white flours for buns, except on the occasion of the Chinese New Year. Grandma told me how happy they were at the dinner table on the New Year’s eve, waiting for the white buns coming off the stove. Meat was rare in their diet. But such a life was considered fortunate comparing with the famine they had in early 1910s. The drought wiped out any hope for harvest. All the village people wandered out to search for food. Government assistance was unheard at that time. In fact, the whole China was engulfed in wars fought by warlords. Poor farmers had to fend for their own living. There were few ways people could make a living outside farming, and those people leaving their land became beggars on the streets of other villages and towns nearby. Grandma said her mother carried her on the back, begging in front of wealthy people’s houses. Sometimes, a cold-hearted owner sent out dogs to bite them, and Grandma’s mother had to run as fast as she could. The famine lasted for about a year.

When Grandma was five, a matchmaker came to her house and brought proposals from Grandpa’s family, who lived in a nearby village. In those days, a woman got engaged when she was young. All the decisions were made by the elderly. Grandpa’s family had a decent amount of land, and enjoyed a relatively comfortable living. Grandpa was the only son in the family. His father was far away in Shanghai, married to another wife, and seldom came back home. To Grandma’s family, this is a good marriage because Grandma needed not to quarrel with her husband’s siblings and would get all the family inheritance for her own children.

During the engagement process, Grandpa once came with his mother. Grandma remembered playing with him. They were all children at that time—Grandpa was only a year older than Grandma. However, after the engagement was settled, they never talked to each other again until the day of their wedding, when Grandma was 16. Before then, Grandpa came for a visit occasionally, which was received by Grandma’s parents. Grandma had to hide, which was required for a decent girl at that time. Grandma peeked through the curtain to steal a look on Grandpa. Her brothers and sisters usually joked with her after Grandpa left, “Little Dachong (Grandpa’s nickname) is very good looking.” Grandma felt very happy and contented.

Her carefree life ended after Grandma got married. Grandma started to live with her husband’s family, and took upon her the responsibility of maintaining the household. She had to work on several acres of farmland, sometimes all by herself. Grandpa was a young man who disliked hard work. He liked to go to nearby villages to gamble and drink. Whenever he came back home drunk, Grandma would have a big fight with him. Therefore most of the time, the house saw only Grandma and her mother-in-law. The old woman was a very kind person, who never uttered a harsh word on Grandma. She knew his son was too spoiled, but she could do nothing to change him. Almost all the time, she sided with her daughter-in-law whenever the couple had a quarrel, but that did not help much. The two women grew close to each other and became good friends. It was a huge loss to Grandma when her mother-in-law died about 20 years later.

Grandpa’s father occasionally came back to visit his family. But he stayed for only a few days each time. In a few times, he brought his son to Shanghai to see the world. I don’t know whether Grandpa’s father was engaged in merchandise trading, or supervising laborers for a big boss. Any way, his lived quite well himself, and often sent money to his family in the countryside. About Grandpa’s father, I knew little. Maybe it’s because he was distant to his first wife’s family. But I was quite surprised to know that a man could have two wives at the same time in those times. I was also interested to know that he tried to refuse the arranged marriage at home after he went to Shanghai. He brought his woman from Shanghai back to his village, trying to convince his mother that this is the wife he wanted. But his family would not accept his option. He then went to Shanghai, and refused to come back for a wedding. Only after his mother sent a letter to him, telling him she was gravely ill, did he come back. His mother was fine and a wedding was waiting for him. He reluctantly got married, but only stayed home for a few days after the wedding, and then seldom came back. His wife gave birth to a son, which was my grandpa. As a woman, Grandpa’s mother lived a lonely life. She never got much from her husband. Her son, my grandpa, was the only comfort to her. That was why she had spoiled him so much.

-6-

Having borne and raised four children, Grandma lost three of her children one by one. The eldest one, a daughter, drowned at age 15. Grandma used to tell me how beautiful she was, “Wenfeng, your would call her Aunt is she is alive today,” Grandma always began her talking like this, “she had such beautiful eyes.” Wenfeng was a lovely girl and a good helper to her family. One day, Grandma was cooking at home, Wenfeng went to bathe in the village pond. She did not come above the water. Grandma was notified by the neighbors. By the time she rushed to the scene, it was too late. The other two children died at age 7 and 2. My father was Grandma’s only child who survived to adult age.

Grandpa’s village came under the rule of the communist party a few years before they tool over the whole China. Landlords were executed by the communist government. Owning a moderate amount of land, Grandpa feared for his life. In a dark night, Grandpa, Grandma and their only child, my father, ran to Shanghai to escape the terror. At that time, Shanghai belonged to the area controlled by the nationalist government, who was later defeated by Mao and fled to Taiwan in 1949. It took Grandpa’s family three days to reach Shanghai by foot. Grandpa got a favor from one of his father’s friends, and started to work on a ship as a sailor.

With only one child left, Grandma’s love was poured into my father. He was raised with affection and complete love. Certainly, he was spoiled, which gave him a quick temper and a tendency to dominate others. Grandma told me that my mom and my dad once had a quarrel. When my father cursed my mom’s mother, she retorted, “your mother…” Before she could finish, my father slapped her. He told her, “You should never curse my mother. I don’t allow anyone to curse my mother.” That caused my mom to cry and they had an ugly fight. Grandma told me the story with the satisfaction that her son was protecting her name. But she did not see that my father was bullying my mom. I was deeply humiliated and hurt by my mom’s treatment from my father. How can a man hit his wife, when she was just retorting what he said? It is unfair, uncivilized! Why did not Grandma stand up and put a stop to her son’s bad behavior? Only now I realize that my father would not listen to whatever Grandma said. It’s the other way around. Grandma adored her son, and believed in whatever he said. Once we walked on the street during my father’s medical parole, Grandma found a handkerchief on the pavement. Being frugal all her life, Grandma picked up the handkerchief and wanted to keep it. “No, Mom. Drop it.” My father said with frown. He looked annoyed. With great reluctance, Grandma let the handkerchief go.

-7-

Grandma received almost no education in her life. The only Chinese words that she could read were her own name, which she could not even write correctly. She learned about those three characters in early 1950s in the movement of wiping out illiteracy in China. At that time, free classes were offered for adults to learn to read and write. Volunteers knocked on the every household’s doors to call on people to go to class. Grandma learned a few words in those classes. But she felt it was too difficult to continue, and she stopped going to class. With no education herself, Grandma highly esteemed people with education. This is deeply rooted in Chinese culture where people with literacy are considered to be high-class. Grandma was always proud of the academic achievement of her grandchildren. When I was about 7-year-old, after learning a few Chinese words, I tried to read newspaper to her. She was so proud of me that she told all the neighbors that her granddaughter could read newspaper now. Grandma’s son, my father, received high-school education, which was considered the above-average educational level in those days. He got married to my mother, a college graduate. This match gave Grandma big satisfaction and pride. Later watching all her grandchildren going from primary schools, to middle schools, high schools, and finally colleges, Grandma was so proud and happy.

-8-

I grew up with Grandma until I was seven year-old, the age to go to school. The day I left Grandma for Echeng, the city where Mom lived, Grandma was so sad. She held my face with both her hands, sobbing loudly. It was as if she could never see me again. Her expression was so sorrowful that I will never forget it in my life. Her words were choked, “Jun, …” Tears were falling on her folded face. I was crying and heartbroken. During that last summer, I was quite playful and Grandma was angered for the first time. She attempted to hit me with a broom stick, but I jumped high enough on the bamboo bed so that she could not reach me. Grandma rarely scolded me or punished me. I knew at the moment of leaving, she felt very sorry for her harshness, even it was an unsuccessful hit. She never said it, but I just knew. I was heartbroken for her.

Grandma’s face lingered in my mind during my first year with my Mom. That sadness touched my heart deeply. I knew how much Grandma needed me and loved me. But I could not live with her.

As a child, I adapted to my new environment quickly. I fell in love with reading books, and I had found many same-age friends in the neighborhood. We played and singed. We went to school together, and came back home together. Grandma’s sad face gradually faded out in my mind. One day, after dinner Mom quietly told me and my sister to go with her to the train station, which was about 20-minute walk from our home. Mom’s face was full of secrecy and I was quite puzzled. After we arrived at the train station, Mom told me that Grandma would come to bring us some gifts. Grandma arrived, carrying a big bag on her shoulder. She handed that bag to Mom, and looked so happy to see us. She held us so tightly in her arms. But she only stayed with us in the train station for a few minutes (which was how long I felt but maybe in fact it was half an hour or so). She then took another train back to where she came from. I was so sad to see her go, and could not understand why she could not stay. Later I knew that my father was a known anti-revolutionist in the region, and my mom had openly divorced him. It would complicate our future to have any connection with him or his family, including our dear Grandma.

-9-

When I was 11 year old, my mom moved back to Wuhan. The move was made possible by my mother’s father, my maternal grandfather. Let me call him grandfather from now on, to be distinguished from Grandpa. Being a college professor for more than 30 years, my grandfather had many students who graduated and occupied important positions in the municipal government. At that time, a person had to have a resident card (Hukou) in order to live and work in a city. Such control was possible because all the housing, food ration and jobs were controlled by the government. A resident card is required in all those aspects. My grandfather helped my mom to get a resident card of Wuhan, and she was finally able to move back to where she grew up, where her parents and siblings were, and where my grandma was. Due to the difficulty of finding a job and getting housing, my mom had to stay in her parents’ house. She left my eldest sister and me with my grandma again, who raised us until age seven. My younger sister Hong was always with Grandma, and by this time she was 8 year old.

Back living with Grandma, I started my fourth grade. It was like I have never left. Grandma was still busy in cooking and washing every day. But now I went to school daily. For the first half year, I deeply missed my friends in Echeng. I missed everything there: the school building, the playground, the road leading to the theatre, the big tree in front of our house, and the mountain nearby, which gave me so much fun when I went there with friends for mushrooms and flowers. I imagined that I would accidentally met my old classmates on the street. How happy they would be to see me! I would give them a big surprise. I daydreamed everyday after school, staring blankly to the street. It was a time when I grew fast in height, and I ate a lot. I remembered every noon I came back from school, and then my sisters, Grandma and I had lunch around the table together. Grandma would put a full bowl of rice in front of me, and was glad to see me to empty it. After lunch, we listened to the radio of novel series. I remembered at that time, the novel was about the life of a local Chu Opera actress, Ms. Chen. When we listened, Grandma would either sewing clothes, or making pickled peppers for the winter. After that, I went to school for the afternoon classes. While on the road, my mind was still wondering about the life of the actress and why she got married to a warlord, who we were told in school belonged to a group of bad and cruel people. Why did the novel say the warlord was nice to her? Was she happy with him?

Every day was a routine and life went on quietly.

When I was at my fifth grade, my grandpa retired and came to live at home. The house was no longer as peaceful as before. Grandpa had a quick temper and he argued with my eldest sister a lot. At that time, my eldest sister was a 15 year old teenager in her ninth grade. She was rebellious. Now I think Grandpa was just taking my sister as a target to vent his frustration after retirement. Having worked all his life on a ship with a bunch of men, Grandpa was not used to domestic life. He had nothing to do and few people to talk to. Therefore he cursed a lot and roared a lot. The discord in the family left bad impression on me. How I missed the life with just Grandma and me. Grandma never said anything against Grandpa. She endured Grandpa’s curse and would always walk away to avoid any conflict. In her late years, Grandma once told me, “I suffered all this life for being a housewife. If I had not been staying at home and relying on his money, I would have stood up. “ That was when she was 80 year old, and when Grandpa had mellowed and treated her much better than before.

To be fair, Grandpa was a man with bad temper but a good heart. He loves his family. Even though he cursed a lot, he almost never hit anyone. I never experienced violence in him.

-10-

I went to my middle school in Wuchang, a town on the other side the Yangzi river from Grandma’s house. I lived in the student dorm. My mom remarried at that time, and lived in a suburb town about 20 miles from my school. I went to Grandma’s house more often in the weekend, which was just 30 minutes away from our school by ferry and bus. At that time, there were six working days a week. I usually came to Grandma’s house on Saturday evening, and left on early Monday morning.

It was early 1981, China was recovering from the catastrophe of the culture revolution. People were still poor. Many young people who recently graduated from high school could neither go to college, which accommodated only 1% of high school graduates, nor find a job. Adding to the army of the unemployed were the youth who went to the countryside in response to Mao’s revolutionary calling and now came back to the city bare-handed. Poverty brought crime. Robbery was heard quite often near the Grandma’s community. It was told that a young man waited outside the public restroom, and then demanded watches (which was expensive goods at that time) from the women coming out of there with a knife. Some robbers would wait at the corner of a street and demanded money from the passerby. Residents were scared to walk on the streets alone. Women were particularly scared.

As a 12 year-old young woman, I have heard of these stories, but it never crossed my mind until one Monday morning Grandma looked at me seriously before I prepared to go out to catch the ferry. “Jun, it is unsafe outside, and I don’t want to you to go alone.” Grandma insisted. I felt funny for Grandma’s extra seriousness, and tried to persuade her, “Grandma, don’t worry, I am strong and no one will hurt me.” Grandma would not budge, and then she made up her mind to see me off at the corner of the street, which was about 3 blocks from our house. For me, that three-block distance was trivial, but for Grandma, whose bound foot prevented her from venturing out of the house for more than one block, whose health was failing and who felt tired easily from walking, it was considerable effort. No, I did not want Grandma to go with me. Plus, she was smaller and more vulnerable than me. What if the bad guy attacked her, how could I protect her? Before I could say more, Grandma put the schoolbag on my shoulder and accompanied me out of the house. She had such a decisive and courageous expression that I could not act against her. In the dim light of early morning, we worked together. Never had I seen her walked so fast. It was as if the task of protecting me gave her extra strength. Her gray hair was flying in the morning breeze. I felt a bottomless love in my heart. I am protected by my grandmother, a woman who is willing to sacrifice herself for me, who is willing to protect me with whatever she has. This is the love of a mother, who is going to protect her young with all she has. Even though I have not felt such love from my own mother, I felt it from my grandma at that moment.

At the corner of the street, Grandma stopped. “Jun, I will see you off here. Be careful….”

I waved goodbye to her. After 10 steps I looked back, she was still standing there.

I will never forget that morning, forget the sacrifice and love Grandma had given to me. Deep in my heart, I knew I was cherished and protected in this world. I knew someone will sacrifice all she had for me, and that’s enough to make me feel loved.

-11-

Religious belief was not rooted in Chinese culture, as observed by Bertrand Russell in 1910s. Even though people observe spirits in the Chinese New Year and other festivals, there is not much belief on heaven or another world. This is especially true after the communist government took the power. The whole nation was educated with atheism, or more accurately, materialism. Therefore it is natural that Grandma was not a pious woman. As I see it now, I hope it could have been otherwise. With religious belief, Grandma would be comforted after so much suffering.

If Grandma had believed in Christianity, or if Christianity was widespread in China as in US, her life would not have been so lonely. In US, people get their weekly social gathering by going to church. They get spiritual and material support from their co-believers. In the movie “One true thing”, the woman who was terminally ill got visits from her church friends. She also helped to bring fun to one of her church friends who was divorced and depressed. Grandma never had such a support group. Her life was resolved around her son, her grandchildren and her husband. When we lived in a house complex, where seven families lived in the same complex, she got quite a number of neighbors who sometimes were helpful. But after she moved into an apartment building, there was little interaction with other people in the building. Urban living has severed the close relationship among people. Grandma became isolated. As poor as they were, as many Chinese at that time, Grandma could not afford a TV. With no ability to read, Grandma could not enjoy newspapers or books. They once had a radio, but it was broken a couple of years later. They did not have money to fix it, not to say to buy a new one. Thus Grandma lived in a world of little communication with the outside. Her only happiness was seeing us during weekend visits. Every Sunday, after we left, Grandma would immediately start to count the days until the next Saturday. The frequency of our visits reduced from once a week to every two weeks. At that time, I was in college, and my younger sister was in high school. We had our own interests and own world to explore. I was infatuated with love in the last two years of my college, and ending up visiting my future in-laws more often than visiting my grandma. At the beginning, we stayed in Grandma’s apartment overnight during the weekend. Later, after she was confined to bed and hired a live-in sitter, we never stayed overnight because there was no extra bed in the house. Our visits thus reduced to half a day every two weeks. Normally we would arrive around 11am on Sunday, and leave after dinner around 7pm. Our visits became obligatory because there are few new things in Grandma’s house. Confined to bed, disconnected from the world, Grandma’s chat became less interesting. We still love her, but just felt bored and heavy by visiting her. Our visits were combined with doing chores for them, and watching their helplessness in the face of aging and illness. It was sad and uneasy for us to face the harsh reality of aging. This was in contrast with visiting our mom and stepfather. Their apartment was much more comfortable and bright. With TV, stereo and books, with good dishes and private rooms, it was much more enjoyable.

I can imagine Grandma’s sadness when she sensed that we did not need her. Yet she could not help being happy whenever we were there. She disguised her disappointment whenever we skipped or accidentally forgot a weekend visit.

As selfish as we were, we still deeply loved Grandma. We wanted the best for her. Both my eldest sister and I had tried to find Chinese medicine for her, hoping they were cures for her arthritis. But that did not work out. Her joints kept deteriorate and she lost the ability of walking eventually, until she was finally confined to bed.

-12-

Today I watched a PBS program on assisted suicide. If Grandma was given the choice, would she try it? No, she would not. In the last few years of her life, Grandma suffered a great deal of pain from her swollen joints. She was humiliated by the fact that she could not get off the bed by herself. She could not walk. A woman who had worked hard for all her life, Grandma hated to ask for helps from others. Sometimes those helps came so reluctantly, which humiliated Grandma and made her resentful. A woman who had always been in good nature, Grandma became nagging in her last few years. We were all surprised by this change. Only now I realize that the pain changed her. It is so difficult to be in good nature when you undergo huge pain. In that condition, Grandma received a lot of complaint from Grandpa. Grandpa was a man who had a soft heart but a bad mouth. He had a quick temper and liked to indulge himself in verbal abuse. Grandma was used to that verbal abuse, but it was still painful for her to heard it every time. Those late years must be hell for Grandma. But she endured it. Once she told me, “I know as long as your Grandpa and I are alive, you have a place to come to.” She referred to the fact that we lived with our Mom and stepfather and sometimes we were not happy there. Grandma’s house is our refuge. She wanted to give a home to us, even with all the pain she suffered. She also knew how much she meant to us and knew it would be a big a loss to us if she left this life. To her, we are like orphans, and she wanted to take care of us as much as possible. I don’t know how she thought for herself. I believe she had a desire for life, but even stronger was her desire to give to us, her grandchildren. That is how I conclude that Grandma would not consider assisted suicide.

-13-

The year before I came to US was a tormenting year. It was just a year after the Tiananmen Square massacre. The Chinese government put strict restrictions on students who wanted to study abroad. The government came up with a bizarre policy which required anyone who wanted to leave China to show proofs of a direct relative living oversea. I did not have such a relative but I desperately wanted to get out of China to continue my education. I was deeply disappointed with China after the government’s crackdown on student movement.

With one year’s persistence and hardship, I got out of China. I would never forget the complete acceptance from Grandma, which was a pillar for me in those dark days.

-14-

In 1994, three years after I left China, I went back for a visit. I was relieved to see Grandma was still alive and seemed doing well. Overall, she was thinner and weaker. She ate less and spoke less. But I was optimistic that she would live for another few years until I visited her again. During that first three years when I was in US, I dreamed of carrying Grandma to a white and clean bathtub. There was no bathtub in Grandma’s house. How happy she would be if she could enjoy a comfortable bath! I wanted to give such a living to her. She would never have to bend her body in a small wooden barrel. She would enjoy all the hot water as much as she can. Yet, I would have to wait for a few more years to save enough for that. My earning from my graduate assistantship was so modest. But I was hopeful and full of confidence.

I did not expect that, just two months after my visit, Grandma died of heart and lung failure. During those two months, she ate little and moved little. Her body became too weak to sustain the burden of breathing. Was it also because she had given up hope on life after I left? But she still had three other grandchildren and a lovely great-granddaughter. Was it because we moved her into the same room as Grandpa, who had made Grandma feel unworthy with his constant verbal abuse? In her last year, Grandma cried out much more often than before due to her increasing pain. It was probably annoying to people around her. I knew Grandpa’s temper. How I regret moving Grandma into Grandpa’s room. Have I contributed to her death? God knows. If so, please forgive me. Grandma made a little protest when we moved her, but I ignored her. I thought moving her was to her best interests, given what my second eldest sister told me. But was it really to her best interests? How can I decide for her after being away from three years? I trusted my second eldest sister, but now I really doubt she acted on Grandma’s best interests. She wanted to make the housekeeper happy who would get a separate room after Grandma’s moving. If the housekeeper stayed, there would be less burden for my second sister to take care of Grandma. But as to what is the best for Grandma, she did not give much thought. I cannot blame my second sister much because she may not expect the bad consequence of her suggestion. She did not have that rapport with Grandma. All I can blame is myself. Who made me act like God? Why did I believe others so easily? I will learn to be humble and respect the wishes of my loved ones. Grandma, forgive me. I know you love me and you will not blame me.

I learned about Grandma’s death by my younger sister’s letter, which arrived a month after the death. I cried while reading the letter. My cry was so loud that my roommate came to console me. My heart felt so empty. Knowing Grandma’s illness and aging, I still could not accept the fact that she left this world. She is no more and nowhere. Where has she gone? Is she happy in the heaven now? She has suffered so much in this world. I hope that all she has is happiness in another world.

-15-

My sister told me that the Chinese music “Lady Meng cried at the Great Wall” was played at Grandma’s funeral. A feeling of fate rushed through me. This folklore was told to me by Grandma when I was little. At that time, I was deeply moved by the sadness of this story. It’s a story about three thousand years ago, a woman named Meng, whose newly-wedded husband Wan was taken away by Emperor Qing’s army to build the Great Wall. Wan died in harsh labor. Lady Meng walked for thousands of miles to the foot of Great Wall to search for her husband. But what she saw was piles and piles of bones of dead laborers. Which one was her husband’s? Lady Meng cried over those bones. She cut her finger to spray blood on those bones and prayed to them, “if you are my husband Wan, please change your color.” Finally, one set of bones changed color, and Meng knew that’s her husband. She picked up the bones, held them dearly in her arms, and cried out loud. Her cries are so moving that one section of Great Wall fell. It was such a sad story. It’s about love, and but it is also about the miserable life of people under a dictator. Emperor Qing wanted the Great Wall to be his personal monument. He also wanted it to be a fortress in his constant military battles against other people. In the Great Wall, thousands of thousands of people died of harsh labor.

Unthinkably, Lady Meng’s fate was repeated by my grandma, except that my grandma lost a son instead of a husband. Her son was taken away from her in the culture revolution, a movement initiated by the dictator Mao that killed millions of people. For eight years, Grandma waited for the return of her son, but that never happened. I still remembered Grandma’s cry in that large room after hearing my father’s death. Grandpa sat by her side sobbing. Neighbors, a dozen of people, sat nearby trying to comfort them. Grandma’s cry was so long and deep that it became a song, a long and sad song, telling of her heartbrokenness. I run to her as I walked into the room after taking a train back from Echeng. She held me in her arms. I tried to wipe tears from her face. Grandma stopped her crying and looked at me, “my sweetie, you are Grandma’s jewel…” She held me tightly, her tears continuing falling. People were wiping their tears and signing in the room. Why in the earth, after three thousand years, a loving Chinese woman has to suffer the same fate again? My poor Grandma, why did she have to suffer the most tragic thing in her life?

I was not there in Grandma’s funeral. I don’t know whether that music was the most appropriate for Grandma. I don’t want to see her suffer in another life, if there is another life. The weekend after hearing about Grandma’s death, I was in a church concert of choir songs. The penetrating music comforted my heart, as if it was sent from a heaven high above. How I hoped that’s where Grandma would live. She will be forever living in peace and comfort, with no suffering from this world. I prayed to God that Grandma had suffered enough in this world, and she deserved to live in the heaven from now on.

-16-

I dreamed of Grandma frequently in the first three years after she passed away. In the dream, I was still that child who moved around her, watching her working on the stove. She looked young and healthy. Whenever I saw her, I felt such a happiness and relief. Yes, she was there, healthy without any illness. She was alive and would be always alive. I could help her and could be with her. How happy I was. Yet, every time when I woke up, I was struck by the stark truth that she was no longer in this world.

How could I continue dreaming of her being alive for more than three years after she died? I did not know. After three years, my dreams were still frequent, but sometimes in the dream I realized that Grandma probably have died. There was a slight doubt in my mind, but I did not question what I saw in the dream: the happy and healthy Grandma. It was only until last year, five years after Grandma passed away, I started to question myself in the dream: Grandma was dead, how could she stand here smiling at me? I got panic, as if I have seen a ghost. Then I suddenly woke up, still feeling the fear in the dream. After a few of such instances, my dream of Grandma became rare. But I still dreamed of Grandma and Grandpa alive, given that they recovered from a death what was accidental and curable. I convinced myself death was just a disease, and Grandma and Grandpa were immune to it now after they encountered it. In reality, they have suffered so much from aging and illness. In my dream, they were so healthy and energetic. I wanted them to be like this always, even it is in my dream.