By Zhao Yu

After midnight,my mother’s right arm began to swell,and her left arm was unable to take an I.V.drip.The nurse had to withdraw most of the needles and tubes from her body,leaving only two tubes to provide oxygen and nutrition.

To ease the swelling in her right arm as soon as possible,we suspended it with a band in order to improve the circulation of her bodily fluids.Although she didn’t feel comfortable in such a state,she was getting better.

After everything was arranged,Mom told me about her plans when it came to the end of her life.She had mentioned this a few weeks ago,but she seemed to have forgotten what she had said—where she had put her final clothing,underwear and outer wear,her favorite brown silk scarf,and her wig,all to be put on on her last day.

“It is said that traditional cloth shoes are necessary for a body.In the neighborhood,there is a store where you can get a pair of cloth shoes for me.”

As was shown in the movies or TV dramas,I should now stay by her bedside and hold her tight,crying,“Dear Mom,you will be fine.Don’t go! Life without you is a pain!”

However,I just remained seated on the sofa across from the bed.The warm winter sunlight ran through the window and the curtains,throwing against my back.I didn’t cry,nor did I say anything.I didn’t even move forward to give her a hug.As I watched her,I was trying hard to remember a store where I could secure cloth shoes.To everyone else,a pair of easy shoes was essential as they could carry a man as far as possible.It was even so for someone like my mom who was picky about so many things.

I noticed that my mom was shedding tears.Was it out of her fear for death or her love for life,or her disappointment for my cold attitude? I tried to understand her feelings,but the attempts were all in vain.I was too exhausted to remain susceptible.

In the afternoon,Uncle Zhen showed up in the ward with his usual large portfolio.While my mom was asleep,he produced various reading materials from it to study in order to keep updated with things and fight against his physical decline.Uncle Zhen and my mom were in love when they were young.Although she eventually married my father,Uncle Zhen remained a close friend of my family.Whenever I was in trouble,I would ask him for advice.

Uncle Zhen had two regular places in the ward—a chair at my mother’s bedside and a sofa by the window.In the chair,he would fix his eyes on my mom,looking in affection at her weather-beaten and aging face that he had seen for almost half a century.At such moments,I would be reminded of the opening words from a novel calledThe Loverby Marguerite Duras,“One day,I was already old,in the entrance of a public place a man came up to me.He introduced himself and said,‘I’ve known you for years.Everyone says you were beautiful when you were young,but I want to tell you I think you’re more beautiful now than then.Rather than your face as a young woman,I prefer your face as it is now.Ravaged.’” These moving words were so well written—and it was as if they were meant for them.As a matter of fact,all forms of true love in the world can stand the test of time.

If Uncle Zhen was seated in the sofa,it would mean that my mom needed to rest.In that case,he would take the chance reading books in the field of his study.As my mom often said,“In all his lifetime,he has only focused on being a good doctor.”

Truly,a person’s greatest success is to concentrate on one thing and bring it to completion.Women always wish their man to shoulder more responsibilities,such as being a supportive husband,a kind father,and even a romantic lover.All these roles require not only great efforts,but also many qualities,including wisdom,kindness,humor,optimism,sensitivity,care,and,most importantly,constant affection for his soulmate.

Since Uncle Zhen came to take care of everything,I could go out for a walk.I could enjoy the warm sunlight,take some deep breaths of the fresh air,and also watch the beautiful girls and handsome boys passing by.Or I could visit a streetside shop to gladly slurp down a bowl of rice noodles.After some relaxation,I could return to the ward,and everything wouldn’t seem as distressing as before.

As I was busy with my duties in the ward,I cast a few furtive glances at them.Uncle Zhen gazed at my mom’s face with the same attention he had for reading books,while my mom lay in the bed,with her eyes closed.I was not sure if she was asleep or she was just taking a rest.Sometimes,she would complain,“He always looks at me in worry,without saying anything to console me.What’s the point of his being here around?”

To her I replied jokingly,“Well,Uncle Zhen doesn’t have to come this week?”

Mother grumbled with a sidelong glance,“As he likes.” She shouldn’t look like a 70-year-old in such a girlish tone.

(FromA Fare well to My Mother,Flower City Publishing House.Translation: Wang Wen)