Regression to the mean

My grandmother died on Thursday. Thursday night in Taiwan, so that means it was Thursday morning here. It seems strange, the time difference. It’s like we had gone back in time and her death hadn’t happened yet.

I found out from my brother Thursday morning while I was in class. The bugger kept calling me and I embarrassingly had to turn off my phone in class so it would stop ringing. But he texted me and said it was an emergency. This has never happened before. I never had to walk out of class because of an emergency, and for a moment, I felt my world shift a little, as if I had shifted between two realities.

First, there was a lot of silence. I didn’t know if it was poor reception or if he was being emotional. His first words were, “Something happened to our mom.” So obviously, the worst thoughts flew through my head. Probably one of the worst ways to start a conversation. I don’t mean to say thankfully, but less unfortunate to me (though still desperately unfortunate), he said that my grandma (from my mum’s side) died and my mum was going back to Taiwan. My mum found out that early morning, but hadn’t told anyone. I didn’t know how to react. On the one hand, I wasn’t very close to my grandma and had only met her a few times. The first few times, I think she had trouble remembering that I was her granddaughter, or what my name was for that matter. But it didn’t matter to me because she was quite a character. It was amusing just to watch her and be in her presence. Especially with three of her grown children around. It was like my mum had turned back to a child and she was happily helping my grandma eat her food. And sometimes my grandma would stubbornly refuse to eat something. If *I* refused to eat something, my mum would shove it down my throat anyway. But if she refused, everyone listened and put the food away. She had spunk. Even though she was uneducated and had basically played the role of a housewife for the majority of her life, she was a woman who knew what she wanted, up to a degree. I think in her later years, after living with my uncle for so long and being stuck in the house for long periods at a time, she knew she was being treated as… something that was going to expire shortly. My mum told me that the last time we went back and my mum would chat with her when both of them couldn’t sleep at night, my grandma had said that she felt like a dog. It wasn’t that she was mistreated per say, but that her body was deteriorating and she really couldn’t do much else besides eat, shit, and drink. It was the horrible truth. Old age takes away more than just beauty or…limberness. But functionality as a human being. This might be a bit of bitterness spewing out, but my uncle and his wife did not treat her very well. In Chinese society, the wife is supposed to treat her mother-in-law like her own mom. They had a pet Pomeranian or something, and treated it 10x better. It was disgusting. I felt like slapping her a few times when I saw that. I don’t know what it is, but to treat your dog better than your own mother-in-law is just sickening. Just because she was old didn’t mean that she was disabled or mentally retarded. She deserved more than just room and board. She needed attention too, and I think she was provided far less of that than the house pet. So I can see where her perspective is coming from. Nevertheless, she did live to a ripe old age, and saw most of her grandchildren grow up quite healthy. I just wish I got to know her better.

My mum said, in retrospect, she was a pretty good mom. Though she wasn’t as emotionally invested in her children as her dad was, she gave everything she had- given the circumstances. She cooked and cleaned and made sure all the kids had something to eat. And ate the scraps for herself. Though she was quite fit for someone her age, she had some health issues as a result of having so many kids, and for just living a hard life.

She was unbearably thin. She was literally skin and bones and her skin had started getting a greenish tint because the veins were protruding so much. She had trouble swallowing solid food. My mum said that she had told her, that she was going to die. This was about 4 months ago. I’m just glad that my mum did get to meet her, and say goodbye to her before she left. Even though she wasn’t there the day it happened, but what could she do? My mum wonders that sometimes, if she did her duty as a daughter, by coming all the way to America and not being there to care for her. I told her that she had plenty of siblings that the responsibility didn’t necessarily fall onto her. But I do think that she regrets it, at least a little bit. That her siblings don’t get on very well, and no one really showed my grandma the care and attention that she deserved. Maybe it’s that…I forgot the term, but the case of letting the responsibility fall on other people because you know there are so many of them, but in the end no one does it. But at least my mum was able to send over some money and see her a few times. I don’t know what I’m doing. Am I justifying my mum’s actions to myself? Sometimes I think of moving or leaving the country and starting a life elsewhere, but could I really do that? I think that’s one American dream that I won’t be able to fulfill. Could I leave my family for an indefinite periods of time and only come back for holidays? That seems wrong. It’s not the right thing to do. No matter how much of my upbringing has been here, in the U.S., I cannot fail my duty as a daughter. It’s just inconceivable. In light of this, I am making the promise to myself now, that I will take care of my parents as much as I am able. It won’t be just sending them money, or dropping in from time to time. My parents uprooted themselves and moved to another country where they could barely speak the language to provide a better life for me and my brother. How could I repay them in anything less?

It just feels pretty shit isn’t it? You give up your whole life for your children, and sometimes, they give jack shit in return. That must be the shittiest feeling in the world. Anyway, my mum said… I shouldn’t let this get me down too much. I have work to attend to and such. But I’m just worried for her. My mum doesn’t get enough sleep as it is and she’s doing even worse now. I don’t know how to help her. I want to be there for her but I’m so far away. This is the only time in my life that I’ve regretted coming to school that was far from home.

But what can you do? In the end, you just continue living. Until one day, you are dead too.

cold as f*ck

fuck seems more obscene when it is written that way. just like how strippers wear the bare minimum. a teaser, a taste.

it is -3.fucking2 degrees outside. w.t.f.

back to basics

ahhh at last, i’ve finally finished this paper that i’ve been worried about for over a week. it feels good to breathe again, to know that my time is mine again. sort of.

the chicago winter has not changed. or maybe it has, for the worse. i don’t know why i had decided to study abroad in the fall and not the winter. india sounds pretty good right about now… my windows are either crappy, or the wind is just that strong that it is blowing through the cracks and making my room an igloo. what GIVES?

i’m looking forward to cooking this week. at least now there isn’t something that is pestering me for weeks on end. at least not for another 2 weeks or so…

*sigh* the joys of winter quarter.