July 26, 2017

Random Acts… Words of sorrow, words of joy

Posted in Books, Entertainment, Health, Women at 1:04 am by dinaheng

My mom died in April. My dad died two months later. The part of me that died with them is just starting to heal.

Each day, Life sends us messages, if we pay attention, the messages offer guidance for how to deal with pain, how to appreciate joyful moments, how to remember that we are not alone.

Sometimes the message comes from a friend who sends flowers, out of the blue. Two arrangements came this week. Or an assignment for work hits you with such synchronicity that you know it’s not a coincidence. My mom died of stomach cancer. I was asked to interview Emmy-nominated actor Ron Cephas Jones, whose character William on NBC’s hit show “This Is Us” died of stomach cancer.

(Here’s a link to that story, if you’re interested… http://www.emmys.org/news/online-originals/celebrating-life .)

The other night, I went to a screening of “Wind River,” a murder mystery starring Jeremy Renner as a wildlife official in Wyoming who’s learned to deal with the death of his teenage daughter, three years earlier. He gives advice to a friend dealing with the death of his daughter, the murder victim, telling him not to block out the pain, because pain is what keeps the memory of loved ones alive.

Today, it is the memories that bring on sadness. I open the weekly advertising circular that comes in the mail, looking at the sales at grocery stores. It reminds me of Mom, who always looked at the circulars, scanning for food items that the family would enjoy, even though she couldn’t swallow solid food anymore.

Whenever we talked on the phone, she would ask, “Have you eaten yet?” To my mom, who once starved in China as a child, the words were the same as saying, “Are you doing okay? I love you.”

Going out to eat lunch was something my dad and I used to do every time I went home for a visit before he became too weak to walk anymore. He’d either want to go to a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant, or a fast food place for burgers or roast beef sandwiches. Whenever I drive by a Burger King or Subway, I think of him.

The words he always asked me were, “When are you going to move back home?” In father speak, that meant, “I miss seeing you.”

Last night, I finished reading “The Reluctant Queen” by Sarah Beth Durst (Harper Voyager, $19.99), the latest in a great fantasy series about a world where dangerous spirits and humans coexist only through the magic wielded by its queens.

These are the words of that leapt out of its pages at me…

“I could tell you that time will heal you, but I think that’s a cruel thing to say, because right now, you don’t want time to heal you. You don’t want to forget. Because forgetting means that they’re really gone…

“…I do want you to forget this… the pain that feels as if it’s eating your skin and consuming your soul. I want you instead to remember the moments they made you smile, or cry, the moments they made you feel alive. I want you to honor the ways they shaped who you are and who you will become. For they are a part of you, now and forever.

“… (Your pain) is uniquely yours, and it is all right to feel it fully and deeply for today and for as many days as you need to feel it, until you can feel joy again…”

It’s good to know that Life is always reaching out to us.

 

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