Mother was already past seventy, a little heavy, her body stooped and weary with age. Her fifth daughter, who had immigrated to America, urged Mother to come so that mother and daughter could be reunited and Mother could enjoy her later years.
But Mother refused again and again. She said Father’s remains were in Rangoon and that even in death she wanted to stay beside him. The two old people had shared hardship and supported one another for decades; she did not want to be separated from him.
Yet only two young daughters remained at Mother’s side. The older children had long since flown from the nest like birds and scattered in every direction. Her eldest son was in Kunming, her eldest daughter in a rural settlement in Burma, her second daughter in Tianjin, her fourth daughter in Mangshi, and her youngest son in Macao.
Again and again Mother missed her sons and daughters and could not sleep through the long nights.
Her fifth daughter persuaded her that if Mother came to America, she could later apply for the younger daughters to immigrate too, and then the whole family might be reunited. Mother thought it over again and again and finally agreed.
The difficulty was that Mother had never liked traveling. She was not used to boats or vehicles and easily became motion-sick. She knew no English. Traveling such a long distance alone by airplane seemed full of possible trouble. Her fifth daughter had two very young children and could not travel to meet and accompany Mother.
What could they do?
The fifth son-in-law came up with a clever solution. He hurriedly made a set of cards, like children’s picture cards for learning characters. One side had Chinese, the other English, and he mailed them to Mother.
For example:
“I am going to Los Angeles.”
“Where is my seat?”
“I feel airsick.”
“I am thirsty.”
“My stomach hurts.”
“I feel cold.”
Every situation that might possibly arise was written on a bilingual card, so that when necessary Mother could choose the right one and hand it to a flight attendant.
Thank heaven. Mother, taking an airplane for the first time, flew from Rangoon through Hong Kong and completed the journey of more than ten hours. With the care of the flight attendants, she arrived safely in a new world and saw the daughter and son-in-law she had been separated from for years, along with two lovable grandchildren.
A year later, with her son-in-law’s help, Mother began applying for her children scattered in different places to come to America. Her wish for family reunion was realized.
One by one, her children established families and careers. Mother was delighted. With children and grandchildren filling the house, she no longer needed to labor. On weekends, the children played mahjong with her for fun and held family parties. Young and old, three generations together, with Mother at the center, formed a warm picture of family happiness.
Mother has slept at Rose Hills for many years now. Every year, her children and grandchildren bring the foods she liked—baozi, zongzi, fried sesame balls, and fresh fruit—to the green slopes of Rose Hills. There we meet Mother, talk with her, and ease the loneliness of her solitary spirit.
Originally published in Our Stories, compiled by the Los Angeles Burmese Chinese Middle School Alumni Association, Macao, 2007.