I was one month away from turning 17 when I arrived in Taiwan. I had decided after finishing high school, that I would go live in Taiwan to be with my maternal grandparents and get to know them.
My grandfather was an amazing resilient man. He was widowed twice in his life, and each time he re-married with his children as a part of the package deal. I was told that there was a woman he was engaged to after his second wife had passed, who broke off their engagement because she was scared off by the amount of children he had. My grandfather already had 4 children and adopted his nephew when he met my grandmother, his third wife. After they married, they had 4 more daughters. My oldest aunt, Lily, my “Yi-ma”, was the primary care giver for both my grandparents after their health declined.
Yi-ma would start her day by getting fresh groceries, and would take care of my grandparents and all their needs. When I was 16, my grandfather needed help with eating, washing, and walking. While I was in Taiwan, I would spend my mornings at the market with Yi-ma, getting groceries and some breakfast along the way. We always communicated through food. She would let me choose breakfast, ask me what she should make for dinner and I would also help her cook.
Yi-ma taught me how to care for my grandparents; how to support my grandfather when he needed to get up, how to pick his teeth after feeding him his meals, and how to change his diaper when he was completely immobile. I like to think she imparted some of her maternal nature, her sense of humor and her servant-heart to me.
I went back and forth from home to Taiwan over the next couple of years, starting school and rushing back to Taiwan when either of my grandparents got sick. A few days after my 22nd birthday, my grandfather passed away.
Three days after my grandfather passed, my mom was sitting on the couch with my grandma. My grandma was doing a repetitive motion with her fingers as if she was holding a large marble, staring at them, no longer coherent. After her admittance to the hospital, we were told that she had suffered a stroke and had a brain tumor.
After I arrived in Taiwan, I went to the hospital to visit my grandmother and told her I would be back after the weekend. After the funeral, I would start 12-hour shifts, bedside, at the hospital.
There was a 2-day funeral for my grandfather with many religious traditions and ceremonies. I was numb and grieving. My dad had been watching me and didn’t know what to say. I know he saw my deep grief, knowing how much I loved my grandfather, but he didn’t know how to stop my pain. I was so numb and stood in a distance during some of the ceremonial rituals. At one point of the funeral, my relatives placed paper objects representing riches for the afterlife into an outdoor chimney, burning items that symbolized money, a home, a car, to “send” to my grandfather for use in the afterlife. It was a windy day and one of the pieces of paper that were placed in the fire, flew out of the top of the chimney, still smoking, and onto my cousin’s hair. I watched and opened my mouth to say, “Her hair is on fire.” I opened my mouth, but very little sound had come out. A few tries later, my dad who had been watching me closely, finally realized what I had been trying to say and there was a mad scramble to put out the fire in my cousin’s hair.
I remember this moment like it was yesterday, even though it was over twenty years ago.
I sort of think one of my life’s greatest lessons is represented in that memory. Often I open my mouth, think there’s something to be said, but sometimes it doesn’t quite come out. It might take a few tries to get heard.
Today is International Women’s Day. And on today, while we’re celebrating women, I am remembering Yi-ma and the strong women that have influenced my life. I also think there might be others that relate to that feeling of opening your mouth to be heard and needing a few tries before you are.
I hope that you are also trying to share your stories because stories bring people together. And maybe there’s someone near you that’s trying to share his or her tale, and might need to know that you’re listening.
Thank you for reading my stories and my thoughts as I started writing about my pensive journey. I appreciate those of you that have read, commented, messaged, shared and supported me very, very much. More stories to come.