this morning i strugged especially hard to keep my eyes open to talk to my mom, since this is her last day with me. she started to remember her own youth, her own mother, and revealed some details of our family. there are so many stories during in china during the 1940s, many of your families have stories similar to mine.
i hope spencer will remember how much his puo puo loves him, all the late nights she spent up with me, her neck and back support tightly strapped on, ready to smother him with kisses, teach him chinese rhymes and change his diaper for the 3rd time at 5 am, so he could be just a bit more comfortable, and i could rest. how she took unrelenting care of me so i could take care of spencer. i never would have imagined my mom to be so affectionate, animated by this little creature, but how i saw how she must have been with me when i was a baby, 10 lifetimes ago.
i think if puo puo wants one thing for spencer - and she wants a LOT - it is to know that God loves him. that she and i couldn't have made it without a plan and larger-than-human strength we drew from God during our hardest moments, and that he's got one for spencer too. without knowing this, i don't think she'd feel at peace leaving.
it's unspeakably hard to have fused together the way we did these past couple of months, and then have it ripped away, familiarly. i feel the sadness unto death. the instability of both of our lives, what we will return to and become is somewhat uncertain, surprising. as life is, as she always reminds me.
i think i understand on a much deeper level now, a need and desire to sacrifice for your child - and what's more, that this isn't something every mother or grandmother would feel, which makes me see and appreciate her differently.
thank you mom. for being here with me and spencer when we really needed you, and for loving us with your every being.