By Shenzhan/申展
It may sound terrible but at some point most of us will become orphans. The alternative is worse: your parent(s) will have to bear the loss of their own child.
The first day of being an orphan for me started on July 8, 2021 in New York when my mother passed away after a long battle with multiple myeloma ( my father died of heart attack years ago when I was in college).
As usual I woke up around 6 am, and found a Wechat message left by my cousin at 6:43 am, asking me if I was up. I was, but not ready to speak yet.
It was hot these days in New York. So instead of sleeping in bed, I slept on a leather rug on the carpeted floor right underneath the ceiling fan last night. I fell fast into a sleep without dreams uninterruptedly. Like all my families who passed away, mom didn’t come into my dream, which I hoped she would have. But again, she might have already said everything she felt she needed to say. And now she is gone without any regret, nor things undone.
On the desk was a letter I wrote to her yesterday, at around 6 pm, after I finally got home from office, where I, in the middle of a zoom meeting, got the news of her passing texted to me by my cousin at her bedside. I found myself started writing a letter to her like what I have been doing in the past two months, with a small brush pen.
“妈妈，见字如面.”
I remember I started to cry profusely after these characters. It hit me that there will be no “mom” anymore to see these characters and hold the feelings and memories of me as her daughter. I believe matters composing her, still exist and will continue to be around. But I don’t believe there will be a “soul” that still holds the consciousness of her as a person who was my mom, who loved me and I love so much, who has lived a life of 72 years with all the experiences and memories that were only known to her as a “self”. But still, it’s a comfort for me to know that her particles, like mine, will continue to stay in this universe, to be part of something else eventually.
I watered the tomatoes and peppers on the balcony, fed Xiaomi, and biked to Astoria Park for my routine morning exercise. I wore a black and white sports outfit. Only I, in this entire world, knew that I am doing this to mourn my mom. If souls were existing, my mom’s soul would know it too. Her soul would be coming more freely and easily and staying close to me, still lovingly, like she always was until the very last moment.
On the way back from the park, I stopped by O.K. Café for a latte and a croissant. Sitting at a table in the street next to the café, I watched the world going by as usual: a significant number of people were walking in the street without masks now; traffic was not too bad but the street started to feel busy; restaurants still kept their outdoor seats in the middle of the street, taking up the parallel parking slots pre-pandemically for cars only, like a lifetime ago.
I called my cousin in Holland after coming back to my apartment. From a family with few words, we don’t speak often, while do care about each other. But this time we spoke for about 80 minutes. He is expecting a second son, which is fantastic!
My day feels kind of empty now. I am taking the day, and tomorrow off, to process the fact that now I am officially an orphan. I imagine if I were in China, I would be busy making arrangements with the funeral house, the cremation place, and perhaps a memorial ceremony where families and friends would gather. I would be handling the logistics and invitations, etc. But since I am thousands of miles away from China and can’t make plans to go home immediately -- there is still a 3-week quarantine in place for anyone entering China from another country-- I am just staying in my Astoria apartment, being with myself and my own feelings. People who know my mom are mostly in China, probably in sound sleep now. After many years living away from mom, there is very little in my daily life reminding me of her -- she did help me move into this very apartment when she visited me in 2011: the bed I am sleeping in was put together by her and my stepfather; the small kitchen side table was bought by her — and she returned to the store to exchange some parts successfully even not speaking a single sentence of English; she cooked in my kitchen very spicy Sichuan food for my friends…Once the initial reactions pass, I suspect I will be quick to go about life quite normally. The profound sense of loss would have to come later, at moments that I can’t predict now.
MJ also called. He lost his mother a year and half ago, right before the pandemic, to pancreas cancer. A miserable time for her, and him too. We spoke for a while on rather trivial things: office policy for vaccination; empty buildings and plazas in downtown NY; a pigeon walking in determination towards him while he’s on the phone with me. It was nice of him to call me. He called me after my first cat Chino died too. I was too upset about Chino’s sudden passing to pick up that call.
My sweet neighbor, Chip, sent a bouquet of sunflowers. “Just left something on the table that I hope can brighten your day a little.” He texted. That was so sweet of him. I can’t imagine being able to manage these months without him, in fact. He was taking care of Xiaomi when I was away for 3 months to be with my mom from February to May; he got acetaminophen for me when I was fighting covid19 at home with unusual headaches last April; he climbed out his window to toast a drink with me on his fire escapes during the hard months when New York was completely locked down; now the sunflowers…I had planned to go on a whale watching trip this Sunday with him. But now I rather stay in to make sure I have done sufficient in processing. Mom will be cremated Saturday evening (EST), and I can’t predict whether I will be in an emotionally stable state by Sunday. Sometimes it’s good, and necessary to be alone. I hope he finds a good friend who can go with him.
Later in the afternoon, I started digging into some old photos of mom and me and family members after I came to U.S.: photos of us when they were visiting Shanghai（上海） in the summer of 2009; when they visited me in NY and the three of us went on a road trip driving to New Port, Maine and Boston in 2011; when mom and I escaped to a small fishing village in Sanya (三亚）in 2015; when I was back in my hometown every winter; when we visited San Xing Dui （三星堆）museum near Chengdu （成都）...She was there, all laughing, posing for the picture, having fun exploring all these places...she had such a kind face! I was happy to see her in those photos and walking through pieces of her life again. There were moments that were difficult, like now. But there were moments she lived a life she loved. It was not invalid.
Sometime in the afternoon, it started raining hard, reminding me of her passing-- is the heaven crying for her? For a while, every time when it rained, I thought something bad was happening to her and the heaven was weeping for her. The sentiment felt right.
Xiaomi has been very quiet today. She is getting old and quieter, spending more time lying around the apartment.
Towards the end of the day before it got dark, the rain stopped. I decided to go out and get some fresh air, groceries, and wine. As I was walking in the familiar streets, I was oddly very calm, peaceful, and almost content, feeling I was not alone, as if mom was around me, in the fresh air after the heavy rain.
Is it CRAZY that I am not feeling abandoned, nor alone, but even more loved, as if mom could be with me anytime now that she is free from her physical body? But it feels terribly good, even addictive! I shared this with Tuzi, my best friend since middle school, on my last call of the day. Her mother is getting treatment for lung cancer. And we often talk about our interactions and involvements with mothers with grave terminal illness. She was not surprised, “You are her daughter so you carry her life, literally.”
Indeed, just like a message sent my colleague R,
“ …those we love don’t go away, they walk beside us every day. Unseen, unheard, but always near.”
Thank you mom, for your love for me, for giving me this life, for making me appreciate the time I had with you, and the time after.
Astoria, New York
2021/7/9
Mom, Sanya (三亚）, China, 2015