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| Namukale (caregiver), Mom (Nancy W. Chin-Lee) and Vanessa (my daughter) taking a selfie. |
My mother, Nancy Wong Chin-Lee, (1928-2013) passed away on Oct. 21, 2013 at age 85. She had struggled with Alzheimer's for nearly two years. I wrote this poem in Feb. 2013 when her language diminished to 4-word phrases.
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| Dad and Mom |
Four Words
I miss my mother.
Before the dementia, she would gush
with stories, waterfalls of memories, cascading unfettered.
Exciting
stories, tragic ones, some impossible to believe…
The men she could have married,
Her
mother in the old country, walking in the village with a maid to
carry her books, crying for her home as she had yet another baby.
The stories of Baltimore and
Harrisburg, when the truant officer knocked on the door and she was
pushed into the coat closet…the ugly tales of survival, the family
skeletons, the betrayals…
My mom taught me to love, to tell
stories, to speak my mind.
I miss her laugh, her tears, her words,
flowing, never stopping, entertaining us.
I even miss the racist remarks, the
things I shuddered to hear, because that was all of her, flaws and all.
I miss her words.
Her stories fed me, washed over me, drenched me
with her life, a life I have always been part of.
But now, just four words:
“You are my daughter?”
“Thank you for coming.”
Glimmers of clarity, drops of hope,
just tiny drops.
I am thirsty for her words, that former
feistiness.
Now just four words.
She smiles.
My daughter asks me, “Will you be
like that one day?”
I nod, “Maybe thirty years from now?
I don’t know.”
She will be saying, “I miss my
mother.”
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| Dad (William Chin-Lee) and Mom (Nancy W. Chin-Lee) |
Eulogy
I consider
this day a celebration of my mother as she lived a full and long life, accomplishing
so many things. She was a very strong person with strong opinions and as most
of my close family knows, I sometimes clashed with her. But I
My dad,
being a wise soul, knew how to live with her: just let her have her way, at
least, most of the time. She gave so generously to all around her, especially
to us, her children. She helped us with our homework, cooked delicious meals,
and encouraged us when we were down.
Many of you
know how she flew to Taiwan when I had my car accident as a junior in college.
I know how hard that must have been for her as she spoke no Mandarin and really
didn’t like to travel. She was also a wonderful grandmother and I remember how
she and my dad took care of Vanessa for an entire week when Vanessa was just a
baby so I could have a break.
What I loved
about Mom the most was her storytelling. She could make anything so funny and
dramatic. We would be laughing so hard we might wet our pants and the next
minute, we’d be crying a river. I hope I inherited a tiny bit of her
storytelling ability. I once tried writing a novel based on her stories and I
proudly gave her one of the drafts. She read it and must have been satisfied
enough because I didn’t hear any criticism. One day I’ll try to revive that
draft and share it with the world.
In one true story
she told us her family was “adopted” by the local Presbyterian church in
Harrisburg. The church ladies came and gave her and each of her brothers and
sisters a gift for Christmas. But her proud dad, my grandfather, seized all the
gifts and threw them out, saying his family would not take charity.
She was
heartbroken to give up her toy, but then something else happened. She and Jim,
her brother, sang in the children’s choir for Christmas eve. One reason she joined
was to get the candy canes! She and Jim were ushered into the sanctuary,
wearing their white choir robes. Then it happened. She heard angels singing:
“Joy to the world, the Lord has come.” She was so transported by the music of
the choir that she believed the angels had arrived and were bathing her in
God’s heavenly music. Tears came streaming down her face.
When I
listen to great music, I sometimes cry, too! I recall her words and nod, “Yes,
there really are angels and they are singing to me, taking me through the sky
and into heaven.” Now I imagine my mom as one of those angels, watching over
all of us. I feel happy to know that she is still on my side and singing better
than in real life (cause she sang horribly off key!).
To all of
you and especially to my dad, remember I love you.
