not my photograph…
Paying it forward, is what this is all about, translated…
One day, my elderly seventy-six year-old mother started nagging, said that she’d lived long enough, that her children are all wonderful to her, that she has, no regrets, there’s, just this unfulfilled dream of hers, that she has no idea of how to make come true.
I’d prodded her patiently, and, my mother finally spilled the beans. In the Taiwanese farming villages of the 1940s, every household has mouths to feed, and not enough money to spend, the parents busied themselves away in the fields, and, the children were left with the responsibilities of feeding the livestock, chopping up wood for fire, along with tidying up the house, and so, naturally, they’d raised their children using harsher disciplinary measures.
My mother told, that at the age of five, her father passed away, every now and then, she’d tried playing coy with my grandmother, but, my grandma who was already, too stressed out about feeding all the mouths in the house, she’d showed that look of annoyance toward her, it’d hurt my mother so; because to her, who’s just lost her father, she’d needed, more care and concern, and love from the adults in her life.
Once, my grandmother said something serious to my mother who loved playing coy with her, at the tender age of nine, her heart, was shattered, as my grandmother busied herself about, she’d, cried and walked toward the Pacific Ocean, which was just a little over a kilometer from where she lived. She was in a state of chaos, felt that my grandmother didn’t love her at all, her tears started falling like rain, and, she’d, walked, toward the embrace of the vast oceans, believed, that maybe, the oceans would, be more welcoming toward her. As she stepped into the shallows of the oceans, a strong and sturdy hand grabbed onto her, dragged her back up to shore, and took her home, and afterwards, my mother got a serious spanking from my grandmother.
My mother said, “I feel, so very grateful, for that villager who’d, pulled me back up, it’d been sixty years since, I wonder, if he is, still all right? I want to show him my gratitude.” And, in order to fulfill my mother’s wishes, I’d driven my mother back to the village she grew up in, in search of the man who’d saved her life that day. But, after the changes that took over for a total of sixty years, nothing WAS the same, and, the residence of the man who’d saved her life that day, was broken down and locked up. My mother mumbled to herself, “He’s over ninety now, probably died already…I’d, arrived, too late!”
in need of a helping hand??? Not my photo…
The roads will turn with the mountains, I’d suggested my mother, that she could, change her gratitude for the man who’d pulled her back up from the oceans that day, into a red envelope, and donate it to other people who are in need, this, was the best way, to pass down the kindness she’d, received. My mother took my advice, she said, “Since I’d done this, I’d slept even better at night, I can die, without ANY more regrets now!”
This, is how much difference that someone had made, without even knowing, and, now, the elderly is, passing the kindness she’d received from when she was just a young child, being saved by that man to someone else who’s in need, and that, is the kindness cycle rolling continually here.
Life, the Obstacle Course 