or the beginning.
just heard devastating news. good ol' gma has cancer. w/ her history of 2 brain surgery and her "work her bones into the ground" ethic...this is particularly hard to bear. the doctor said she has a tumor the size of an egg in her stomach, and it looks to have grown for at least 3 years.
my grandma never complains about anything. today, for the first time in her life, she stated something we all knew was true: that my cousin chides her and scolds her. we all did it to her at some point, usually out of frustration, b/c she tries to help out w/ her frail body and we get mad that she continues to want to work for us. and that cousin chides everyone, and they've had a bit of a strained relationship...as strained as relationships can go with my saintly grandma.
she always says things are okay even when there's evidence of pain and even when there's blood, and obvious dizzy spells and bruises from a fall or a gash. she says it's nothing. we know it's not nothing, she just doesn't want the attention and further hates worrying us.
she never complained, she grit her teeth and told no one of the discomforts that the growing tumor caused her over the years. she just drank soda to help settle her stomach, and we would scold her not to. she wouldn't eat brown rice and attracted even more reprimands. we would never have known of her cancer had she not fallen sick a couple weeks ago. had it not been for her vomiting or her inability to get out of bed. had it not been for the diarrhea or the visibly ailing old lady, shrinking annual from her already-diminutive stature, we wouldn't have known.
i want to sit here and blame the doctors who performed her 2nd brain surgery 3 or 4 years ago. but that's not the only thing. she had her first brain surgery to install a tube to drain fluids building up in her head, 13 years ago, the summer i turned 15 and she decided that it was her time. then 3 years ago, she took a fall on a very windy day and once again told no one. instead she threw up and couldn't stand up, notifying my uncle that something was not right. he forced her to go to the doctor with him and my mother and her sister flew to korea to be with their mother for what we all thought would be the end, again. the doctors performed the 2nd brain surgery and she seemed fine. but why didn't they check everything? why didn't they do a gastro endoscopy? test her blood for any abnormal cells? anything? couldn't they have done something to put us on notice?
but blaming them won't solve anything, and i know my grandmother's silent suffering has much to do with the development of the cancer. and we're all to blame for our oversight, our blindside focus on her brain surgery and the shaking of her hands the wobbling of her stride. we were too concerned about her gaining weight of her developing diabetes or her blood pressure rising and mostly the tale-tell signs of the 2 brain surgeries. we should have insisted on more check ups despite the difficulty of getting her to agree.
at the very least, we should have let her do what she wanted, ruin as many new-fangled, modern gadgets and never said a word about it. we should have treated her with the respect she surely deserves, never should have hinted at how upset we got when she broke or misused yet another kitchen gadget, yet another beauty product, yet another article of clothing. b/c she's worth more than all those things to us.
she doesn't want us to spend money or our concerns on her. she doesn't want to be trouble. but she doesn't know that she's no trouble at all. i want nothing more than to lay next to her, share my bed with her, hold her hand while she sleeps next to me. i want nothing more than to remind her of her goodness, thank her for her love and her sacrificial kindness. i don't want the last time i saw her to be the last time i see her. i don't want the last time i talked to her to be the last time i talk to her. i want to hug her forever, to tell her i love her and i want to do so much for her, even if she won't let me.
i wish i had the means to make her happier, more comfortable and feel more loved. i want to brush away the innumerable pains and heartache she has suffered, to erase the hardships of war and widowhood and raising a handicapped child. i want her help her forget the mean things that her grandchildren, her daughters-in-law and her own children have said to her in return for her quiet sacrifice. but most of all i want her to know that i want nothing more than to care for her, and that caring for her, expending my energy and my currently non-existent means, is the thing i want to do most right now. i don't want to go live my life, seek my own pleasures and desires. i want to serve her and comfort her while i have a chance.
the last i heard her voice on the other end of the line was the week after i graduated from law school and moved back to Chicago, i called to let her know. i wanted her to be proud of me, even when i was ashamed of my law school career. i don't think she noted the difference between college and law school, but she promised to make me marinated raw crabs. a korean dish that i don't like unless she makes it. she is the best cook i have ever met in my life.
when i visited her in Yeosu, she used to get up at 4 am to go to the dawn fish markets, to greet the boats that have been out catching seafood by moonlight just so she could get the best, freshest crabs. she'd made it especially for me. she would set the breakfast table for everyone in my uncle's household, but through the haze of my sleep, i would hear her telling my uncle to let me sleep. then, when everyone else went off to work and school, and i groggily walked out of the bedroom, she'd say, "my sweet grace is up! i made your favorite marinated raw crabs, and made sure to knock off all the spines on the claws so you don't hurt your mouth." then she'd pull out, from the back of the fridge, the prized dish that she hid from everyone else so i could be the first to enjoy it. she was so thoughtful and full of love. she wanted me to have that extra hour of sleep. she didn't care if she had to set the table again after she finished the dishes. she loved me and the love was palpable.
i might have had a special connection with her...or so i once thought. but i think it's just her nature to be so giving. i often wonder who i love more, my mother or my grandma. i'm sure i love my mom "more" and logically so. but i think i love them differently. i think there are some things i'd do for my grandma more readily than i'd do for my own mom. and i'm incredibly close to my mom and love her dearly (she could probably dictate my life, and even through my grumbles and resistance, i'd probably do her bidding). but with my grandma, i want to offer her things i don't even have, love i can't even show in any adequate way.
the last time i saw her in person was almost exactly 2 years ago. i promised to visit her in California. and i haven't visited her yet.
i hoped that she'd come spend her summers in Chicago once i returned. we joked that she has an especially strong life line that just won't break, having gone through 2 open-skull operations after the age of 70, and another uterous-securing operation in between. no matter how much weaker she got, she seemed to be one of those who just might live forever, like her older sister who is in her 90's and probably bedridden with arthritis. but she's gotten so frail in the past few months, her heart has been further burdened with complaints she would not utter and with discomforts she won't voice. i don't think spending summers in Chicago is a possibility anymore.
(waiting for the airline employee to bring her a wheelchair, at O'hare on June 13, 2009)
i wish i didn't have to bar to worry about...or had the guts to say, "to hell with it, i can take it in february, i need to be with my grandmother." but i don't know if that would trouble her or make her happy or both or maybe she won't know the difference...maybe she won't care. but i have a feeling if she knew then she'd want me to achieve and pay her no mind.
she could have flaunted her beauty and her brains as a young woman. she chose humility and sacrifice instead. she chose to understand circumstances and forgive instead of show anger or disappointment at her at times dismal surroundings. she never batted an eye about her lot of having to take care of her polio-survivor daughter (my aunt), carrying her to school both ways and visiting her school in the middle of the day to take her to the bathroom. she worked tirelessly to put her handicapped daughter through college, after her husband died young.
she is as close to a saint as i'm ever going to get. she is my mother theresa. she is the silent sufferer and the one who would give her life to make mine just a little bit more comfortable. and if she had her choice she would do it all without me ever knowing it was her. she would do it for me, and i know she would do ten times more for my mother, who my grandma says was the child who never gave her trouble the one she never had to discipline.
i love her.
No comments:
Post a Comment