Another beautiful flower has blossomed for eternity in the Garden of Heaven.
My husband's mother passed away at the beginning of this week. She lived in Hong Kong, and my heart broke watching my husband's anguish over not being able to get there in time to say his last good-bye in person. This is the saddest part of living so far from home, and though we both know that things like this happen, it didn't make it any easier.
My Mother-in-law didn't speak English, and I can barely speak Cantonese, yet when we were in each others company I felt that we could communicate. I know that it amused her when I did things like drop food all over the table when getting to grips with chop sticks, and it delighted her when I used my smattering of Cantonese to try to converse with her - especially on those occasions when it all came out wrong and the family rolled with mirth.
How was I supposed to know that complementing her wonderful fish dish, literally translated from English ("Good fish!") was tantamount to calling her a dummy? Thankfully, she saw the funny side and knew what I was really trying to say!
Above all, I'm heart-fully grateful to this amazing lady for producing the wonderful son who became my husband and my life. I hope she knows now how much I admire her and acknowledge how hard she worked to give him the best opportunities in life that she could.
多謝 奶奶 Thank you, Lai Lai
She would have been 90 years old next Monday, yet looked like she was in her sixties. She lived independently up until a year ago and fought off pneumonia at least twice. She had a strong and brave heart. We will miss her.
I'd really like to thank Obsessive Neurotic Gardener for mentioning me as one of his favorite blogs during the week. It really cheered me up right when I needed a lift.
I went out one morning to see our little baby mocking bird that I wrote about in last weeks post, concerned that I couldn't hear it squawking. The nest was empty except for a plum from the tree. It seems that the fruit had fallen into the nest and pushed the bird aside. I found its little body, cold stiff and covered with ants under the tree. I cried.
Later that afternoon as I sat at my computer writing, I noticed a dove flying to and from the same branch on the Douglas Fir in the front yard. There was another nest. In fact there are two in this tree and in the back yard we can hear the familiar squawk of another chick. Life goes on. That's what it does best.