Missing my grandma 😭😭😭

 

Raj's journey

"Urumqi Middle Road" Documentary 《乌鲁木齐中路》纪录片 - 记录一个伟大的时刻

"Urumqi Middle Road" - a documentary on the 1st anniversary of the White Paper Protests (November 2022) in Shanghai was censored less than a week after it was uploaded to the internet in China.

The X account and YouTube channel of Plato, its producer, have disappeared. On January 5th, 2024, producer Plato, Chinese name Chen Pinlin, was arrested and accused of committing the crime of "picking quarrels and provoking troubles". 

The documentary contains a lot of first-hand video footage filmed by Plato. We don't want to see this documentary of important historical value completely disappeared by the Chinese authorities. 

我们中国人配自由 我们配民主 我们在一起 ✊
 

 

The reason

It's difficult for me to build any hatred for anything, but I know, 

this is the core reason for all the sorrow and sadness in my life.

This totalitarian regime that I'm tied to with my life.

我的外婆走了

从外婆进ICU起一个月过来，每天心里都很难过，也很愧疚已经四年半没有带孩子们回去看外婆了。 

从小婆婆把我带大，爸爸在外地读书的几年，和妈妈一起住在婆婆家里，妈妈要上班，婆婆每天骑自行车接送我上下学。从小最期待的事情就是周末可以去婆婆家吃饭，和婆婆到菜地或后山玩耍。有时还可以留下来过夜，那是要恳求爸妈很久才偶尔被允许的。小时身体不是很好，家人想尽办法也没有特别大的好转，于是不信教的婆婆开始带我去拜七仙娘娘做干妈妈。她一边学怎么祭拜祈福一边教我，嘴里不停叨念“保佑我墨沫，保佑我墨沫”。她还会存一些零花钱下来，偷偷捐给庙里好让神灵不要忘记保佑我。 

幼时对过年的美好记忆大都是在婆婆家的：热热闹闹的年夜饭、饭后对着池塘放焰火、龙灯队吵吵嚷嚷地从初一到初七每晚进婆婆家绕几圈、婆婆对着他们噼里啪啦丢一堆鞭炮。后来再也没有在哪里感受过每晚欢跳着，从龙灯在一百米外的邻居家里就开始激动地等上门的过年气氛。每当有人问我最想念家乡新年的什么，我会在心里偷偷想念婆婆家的龙灯表演。 

初高中每天放学回到婆婆的食杂小店，饿得眼冒金星撞进厨房，“婆婆”二字还没来得及叫出口，婆婆已经对着我们大喊“赶紧洗手吃饭”！一桌子我们最爱的饭菜热腾腾地摆好在那里。后来离开家乡去厦门法国和美国，每到离别日，前夜已经道别并交待了婆婆不要早起送行，早上天不亮，婆婆已经拿着鞭炮等在我们家楼下。再次道别后，婆婆对着慢慢离开的汽车丢了一大堆噼里啪啦的鞭炮，祈福我出门在外平安健康，一边还看到她偷偷抹去流下的眼泪。

婆婆性格大大咧咧的，说话声音大，喜或怒，各种情绪都毫无修饰地显露于色。桥头巷尾碰到陌生人，可以把祖上几代人的故事都分享了。婆婆出生在战乱中，家乡是广西省贵港市的木梓镇，幼年时曾四处逃难逃荒，会说广西、广东、四川等各地方言。读完了初中毕业，后来听说福建好，就跟老乡一起来福建打工，少年时她在工地挑几十斤重的石头，后来在水泥厂当工人直到退休。八九十年代后生活逐渐好转，可惜我的外公在2000年就早早过世了。后来经常听婆婆独自嘟囔：“这些新东西多好啊，我老头子太早走了，福都没有怎么享到，哎，可怜我老头子太早走了。”

虽然历经艰辛和苦难，但婆婆没有哪一天不是在开心地为她的家人而忙碌着。似乎昨夜流过的泪水，一早起来已抛掷脑后，只记得望向前方，全心全意地期待未知的美好。我想自己身体里“打不死的小强”、粗枝大叶啥都不怕也不在乎，以及可以对陌生人把祖上八代的故事一顿乱分享的优质基因，大概率是从婆婆这里继承下来的。 

婆婆非常开明，虽然她没有接受过高等教育，但在大半个中国流转的少年让她眼界很开。我爸爸因为年轻时叛逆，不喜欢接受毛主席的洗脑，说“毛泽东语录就是个肥皂块，洗我们的大脑”，作为惩罚，毕业后被校领导分配到偏远的县城。在小县城里，孤身一人的爸爸受人介绍认识了妈妈，外公外婆很快同意了婚事并开心地把让他做了上门女婿，如同自己儿子一样对待。外人有任何非议都被公公婆婆挡了回去，说“我女婿很好，做上门女婿是我们家的福气！” 我出生时计划生育刚开始施行，我是父母唯一的孩子，但却是个女儿。妈妈总是遗憾没有儿子，时常哀叹，但婆婆每每大声回复她：“为什么要儿子？女儿多好啊？看我有三个女儿多幸福啊，儿子能干什么？女儿才好！我墨沫最棒！”我离开家到法国美国后，认识了印度老公并执意在一起，爸爸妈妈反对了好久并且一直无法释怀。所有的家人里，婆婆是第一个站出来同意我和印度老公婚事的。她大声说：“外国人没什么不好的，只要我墨沫喜欢就可以！只要人善良会好好照顾我墨沫就可以！在哪里生活也没有关系，远就远一点，他们自己生活得幸福快乐就可以！”

婆婆，感恩你给了我生命，感恩你一把屎尿把我养大，感恩你从来都无条件地站在我这一边支持着我的所有决定，感恩你把自己对生活热爱与期盼的态度传承给了我们，感恩你如此坚强地走完了充满泪水与笑容的一生，不曾有一天放弃。

心里一直很愧疚，四年半没法带孩子们来和你见面、道别，但我也知道你一定能理解，一定能原谅。八十九年，你的一生，是我们生命的源泉和依靠。一路走好，婆婆，我永远爱你，你永远活在我这里。

外婆出生于1936年6月15日，去世于2024年4月6日

My Gonggong

My Popo was out of the ICU, spent a few days in a normal hospital room, and cried from night to day that she wanted to go back home. Now she is finally resting at home, looking paler by the hour. She doesn't eat much anymore and would sleep through the days and nights. She knew she would be going soon and insisted on going back home. I can only pray that her mind doesn't go to the idea of seeing me in person and waiting for me to come. 

I have run through all the possibilities of going back to see her for the last time. Each time, after I escaped the horror maze in my mind, I forced myself to calm down and told myself it was not safe for my kids, their future would be at huge risk if anything went wrong with me. Then the constant feeling of guilt would surge and eat away all of my brain. 

I bury myself in nonstop cleaning, packing, and unpacking since we are doing house remodeling right now. I have been sick nonstop from stomach flu to stomach ache to normal flu to just being sick because of fatigue. I fell into a strong sense of unfulfillment, imagining myself on my own deathbed without finishing writing my sci-fi novels, after watching "Dune 2". "I have forgotten that part already! You remember it, you know it, I told you all about the ideas. Aren't they beautiful? It's how my mind works, how I'm fixated on the imaginary world, and writing them up could be my destiny. How could you stand on the side and allow me to be chipped away little by little but never get closer to realizing my dreams? Couldn't you see it? I have absolutely no time to write anything, I'm all used up by everybody while you get all the freedom to open your companies, one after another!" I shouted at Raj. 

I feel scared for my parents, and I try to force my mind away from this topic for now. But when the day comes that my parents are on their deathbeds, where will they be and where will I be?  

When my Popo was in the normal hospital room while her mouth was not hooked to pipes, she had been wailing repetitively "Pity me, little girl, pity me, little girl!" "My husband died so young, my husband died so young! Pity me!" These words echoed in my mind and every time it brought me to instant sadness because it reminded me of my Gonggong. 

Sixth day into the new year of 1999 (February 21st, 1999), the coldest winter in my whole childhood, I saw my Gonggong go, only 62 years old. He didn't get to see me grow up, didn't get to see me admitted into a great university, didn't get to see me travel abroad, didn't get to see me marry and have beautiful babies. I still cry nonstop when I miss my grandpa, even after 25 years.

When my dad was away for a few years pursuing a medical degree in a different province, my grandparents helped their daughter, my mom, to raise me. I was 5 years old. My grandpa was the kindest person you would ever meet in your lifetime. He was kind to people around him and he was kind to animals and nature too. He actually believed in the ideology of communism and he fought equality for all. He was some official figure in the forest department but he was clean, clean as the melted snowy water from high mountains. He wouldn't take even one cent that didn't belong to him, and he taught me all of that when he was acting as my father. He planted many trees and he wished the trees to grow big and strong so the land would be green forever. He often took me to the top of his department building and watched distant trains and mountains with me. He also liked to take me for long walks in the forest where he showed me the trees he planted with his loving hands. 

My Gonggong had a tough childhood too, like my Popo, like all of the Chinese at that time. Elite families have been wiped out, and only peasants and factory workers are left to build up the new communist China. Popo told me the story of when Gonggong was a teen and accepted as an apprentice at a tailor's house. One winter day when he was washing the master's shoes in the freezing river, his hands were in sharp pain as well as numb so he lost one shoe to the river flow, he was later beaten up badly and starved for two whole days. And that was just one episode of countless episodes of his teen years. 

My Popo's life was not any better, when she was young she was forced to move around because of wars. She speaks multiple languages/dialects in Guangdong, Guangxi, Jiangxi, and Fujian. Whilst my Gonggong still had some family photos taken, my Popo had nothing. She worked in a construction site kind of place when she was a teen, digging stones and carrying the baskets of stones from one place to another. Each basket 40, 50 pounds, from morning to night. When I was born, she worked in a national-owned cement factory, carrying materials for a decade, and then packaging till she retired. Popo always sighed, "Your Gonggong is too clean, not corrupted at all, he can't even use any official relationship to get me out of hard labor work!"  

But my Gonggong was kind, he was polite, he was gentle and he was patient. My Popo had a bad temper, was easily angry, and would shout with a loud voice. My Gonggong never raised his voice on my Popo, but never-ending understanding and support. I have seen my parents fight like cats and dogs, throwing furniture at each other, and I have seen my mom and Popo fight, slamming doors and gates, but I have never seen my Gonggong argue with anyone. He always spoke to me in loving and soft tones. 

When I was young I had a huge forehead sticking out. People right away noticed it and would naturally laugh at it, "Looking like 'Old Man of the South Pole'!" Who is one of our deities. My Gonggong was actually the most fierce protector of me from such nonsense, "My Momo is beautiful, stop laughing at her! She is beautiful now and she will be even more beautiful when she grows up! Plus who said girls need to be pretty? My Momo has a big brain, she is smart and kind, and that's all that matters!" That's how my Popo also joined the team. If my Gonggong was still alive, I know he wouldn't allow the family to kill and eat the dog I loved, he would stop them all and rescue my Stinky Egg!    

My dad came to my grandparents' little town when he was young, a drifter too. My grandparents proudly accepted him as a "come to house" son-in-law who usually is looked down upon by society. They loved him like their own, and they loved me as their favorite thing in the world.

My grandpa had chronic high blood pressure. He had strokes years before and was half-body paralyzed. Then on the sixth lunar new year day in 1999, surging blood pressure led to one of his brain vessels exploding and that was it. Blood clots were suppressing most of his brain. I came back from school to my Gonggong lying in bed completely paralyzed. "He had been unconscious." Family told me. I got close to his face, and I called out "Gonggong! Gonggong!" He opened his eyes and looked at me, his face started to tremble and tears gushed out of his eyes, dripping down on the pillow. Within a day after our last meeting, my Gonggong was gone.

Many years later I had a similar meeting with Raj's paternal grandpa on his deathbed, I was mature and open enough by then to know that he would come back to me as my child. I gave my child his name. My child also has a middle name, that is my Gonggong's given name: Fire-Dragon. But I don't know where is my Gonggong now. I don't think he would have left the human world since we are bonded too strongly. He must be somewhere, still loving and watching me.   

Now it's almost time for my Popo to go, and I just couldn't stop missing both of them. They gave me life, raised me up, taught me to be kind, and made me strong. I sadly watched my Gonggong go when I was so young, and I'm not able to accompany my Popo for her last journey with us. But I really want them both to know that I love them so much and I miss them all the time. I want them to know that their loving memories will always be fresh in my mind as long as I breathe. And I know that they will know. They know.

【My Gonggong was born on February 7th, 1937  (Chinese calendar December 25th, 1936), 

and died on February 21st, 1999.

 My Gonggong had a habit of writing diaries every day. 

He left many books of diaries behind 

but my Popo burned them all to "send them to him". 

These are photo-album diaries so Popo didn't burn,

I took photos of the old photos when I was in China in 2019.

I kind of knew something was up so I collected these.】

1950 Apprentice

1958 Fujian School of Forest

1961 Marriage

1960 Photo of Family 

1962 (My Mom was Born)

1965 My Second Aunty (left) and My Mom (right)

1968 My Third Aunty

1971 My Mom (left), My Uncle (middle), My Third Aunty (right)

1969 Gonggong Popo and My Mom and Second Aunty

1978 Whole Family 

1978.11.14 "For 22 years I've been looking for my baby brother (first row left)" 

1985 I was born