amandawong99-blog

[amandawong99-blog]

Prologue

This amalgamation of three interconnected short stories told from different perspectives is based on the writing prompt The Last Time I Saw. 

The stories vividly detail around the memories of an immigrant family and their experience with loss and devastation. Included within the stories are recounts of unconditional love between three different generations within a family, and the everlasting connection between family members who struggle together and thrive together. These short stories aim to challenge conventional dehumanizing mentalities towards immigrant families by capturing a moment of extreme vulnerability and illustrating their experiences with universally congenial emotions when faced with moments of anticipation, heartache and endearment. 

[amandawong99-blog]

Waiting For You

My email notification rang on my phone. It was an email my aunt sent to me and the rest of my family, her email had said “I’m coming in two weeks, let’s all go out for lunch!” I remember feeling my heart lift from my chest and my mood skyrocket into euphoria. Auntie is coming home! 

The two weeks in between her email and her arrival date felt like an eternity. My fourteen days of waiting consisted of me waking up, brushing my teeth, washing my face, going drudgingly to my dreaded high school, coming home, watching TV for excessive amounts of hours, leaving for countless extra curricular activities my mom signed me up for, eating dinner and going to bed. The two weeks I was waiting for her, I lived expectantly and restlessly waiting for her arrival. 

For what I remember to feel like a lifetime, the day had finally come. I was counting down the hours rather than the days! 

The whole family decided to gather at my grandparents’ house, which was where my auntie was going to stay during her visit. Uncle Ed, Aunt Sue, Aunt Charlotte and all seven of my cousins had gathered in that small house waiting. Waiting. Waiting. 

I was lethargically lying down on my grandparents’ black leather couch that was pushed right up against the floor to ceiling windows that showed a landscape view of the front yard and driveway. 

Every time I heard a car engine or a car door slam, my body started to buzz, and I would expeditiously throw my body up to peek over the couch, brightly checking to see whether it was her or not. When I saw that it wasn’t her I laid myself back down. I rolled around the couch and continuously threw myself into a sitting position and then laid back down for an hour. I felt like that one hour was being repeated like a gif. I grew exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster I had put myself through and I started to think that it was childish to wait with such enthusiasm and anticipation, so I decided to wait for her by taking a nap upstairs until she arrived. 

Once I reached the top of the stairs, the warm, sun infested guest room in my grandparents’ house had an immediate lulling effect that made my irresistibly groggy. I sat on the edge of the neatly made bed that was flooded by colourful pillows which were carefully positioned to resemble the pictures in those home decoration magazines that you would find in waiting rooms at the dentist. 

I sighed, letting out a large breath that slowly deflated my body onto the bed. As I slowly laid myself down with my arms outstretched, running my hands along the bed sheets, my eyes began to close like the drawing curtains at the end of a theatrical production. Then darkness and relaxation overcame my body and mind. 

I woke to the sound of thunderous laughter coming from downstairs. I slowly raised myself into a sitting position with my eyes still closed. I rubbed my eyes until I was able to organize my thoughts and remember where I was. 

I heard laughter again, but this time I heard a distinct soft giggle amongst the unanimous laughter. I realized that my aunt had finally arrived! 

My eyes shot open and I crept down the stairs with uncharacteristic meticulousness. I had suddenly been overwhelmed with a feeling of timidity and self-consciousness. When my foot landed on the last step I remember seeing her through the white doorframe that lead to the kitchen. The door frame made her look like a carefully hung painting and the sunlight entering the glass sliding doors that stood behind her illuminated her like a heavenly angel. There she was, my beautiful auntie with her pair of huge goggle glasses and her plain white t-shirt paired with her jeans that looked like they were from the 90s. 

Her head turned towards me when I approached the doorway to the living room, and she smiled the most brilliant smile I have ever seen. 

“Auntie! You’re here! You are finally here!” I ran into her arms. 

“Gno lay la!” (I’m here) she said in Cantonese as she kissed my forehead.  “Soddy (sorry) for taking so long, I missed you sooooo much!” She said switching to her Chinese accented English. She continued to hug me by squeezing me between her arms as if we were the last two people on earth. 

I thought to myself that I never wanted to let her go. But when I hugged her this time, under her oversized t-shirt, her strong and solid body had been replaced with an indisposed willowy and delicate frame. I knew something was wrong, her slenderness was something more sinister than just the result of a diet. A small voice in my head started to tell me that her visit home wasn’t for the sole purpose of vacation. I looked around and everyone’s face looked afraid or sorrowful and the room was silent. My mom just sat on the couch blankly starting at my aunt... she never looked like that. I looked up at my aunt’s face and I saw under her smile, her eyes showed complete desolation. 

“...What is it? What’s wrong...?

The Bootleg Boy. (2019, Jun 16). I will wait for you until the very end (pt.4) [Video file]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xZ2GidJCpxE

At the time I was too young to understand what was happening. I just wished I spent less time waiting for her and instead took the initiative to email her myself, call her or even visit her. If I did that then maybe I would have created more memories with her when she was healthy. It was so long ago but sometimes I still catch myself waiting for her call. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

[amandawong99-blog]

Family Time

She called me over the phone before she sent everyone the email saying that she’ll be coming down to Vancouver from Edmonton. I knew something was wrong because even though she was laughing and talking about all the things she wanted to eat and see again, I could hear her pain and sadness. At the time I couldn’t guess what she had to tell me, which made me afraid. I knew it wasn’t something good. 

She was always rebellious and independent, but she was also a responsible daughter. When we first immigrated to Canada from Hong Kong she used her young, adaptive mind to help her sisters navigate Canada’s unfamiliar society and she learned English to become our family’s unofficial translator while the rest of us struggled to learn the basic rules of grammar. The days that I felt too weak to look after her sisters she would take my place and cook for them or take them out for an adventure in the city. Even though I was strict on her, I loved her so dearly and I hope she knew that. When she left to live in Edmonton with her husband I couldn’t even bear to say goodbye. We had been such a close-knit family, and with her being up there alone with that neglectful man made me worried sick. I knew she was overworking herself to compensate for everything that man didn’t do, I could hear it in her voice. 

I was marking every passing day on my calendar, counting down until her arrival. The first week of waiting for her I sat in the dimly lit kitchen everyday planning out the things we could do and see. I wanted to show her the new trendy ice cream place that I always heard the grandkids rave about. I also wanted to take her for a walk around the new community centre and maybe even show her the new Asian super market that opened along the way to her favourite mall. 

The second week of waiting for her arrival I made sure to clean the guest bathroom inside out and I wiped down all the walls and window sills to free it from the thick layer of dust that had accumulated from the time that passed since her last visit. I took out a fresh set of bedsheets to replace the mismatched neon printed ones that covered the guest bed. I washed it, hung it to dry, and ironed it. I wanted to everything to be pristine and welcoming for her. I prepared the bed for her and even bought new decorative pillows to make the room look more inviting and livelier. I was ready. 

I set my alarm for two hours before her flight landed. I also ensured that the car had a full tank of gas even though the drive to the airport was fifteen minutes. 

I was so excited and scared to see my daughter. The wait inside the airport was the most excruciating. Each time a swarm of people came out of those oversized glass sliding doors I would frantically search and examine each face to see if it was my daughter’s, but none of the passing faces were as alluring as hers. I had waited for nearly four hours until she glided through the doors. She looked exhausted and worn but still beautiful. My baby had finally come home. 

The drive back to my house, where the rest of the family had gathered, was filled with wonderful conversation. She was telling me about her three sons and how they’ve finally all graduated from elementary school and how her husband’s medical clinic was finally in full operation. He was even recognized in their local newspaper as being a highly qualified doctor. I was proud, but I could still hear her holding back a secret from me. Even though I deeply cared about how she was doing and wanted to know what her life was like in Edmonton, I wanted her to stop talking at the same time and just tell me what’s going on. My heart kept hammering in my chest from the anxiety her refrain was giving me. 

When we entered the house, she walked to the back of the house, past the staircase that lead upstairs and walked through the door where the kitchen was, and said hello to everyone and gave them warm hugs. I stood in the doorframe watching her, trying to figure out what was wrong with her. I didn’t find out what it was until everyone was sitting down and there was a lull in the room. 

“I have to tell you all something... Gno m’lay (I didn’t come) here only for vacation... Gno lay (I came) here to get chemo treatments from the hospitals here because they have better treatment programs.” She said in a mixture of Cantonese and English. 

My heart turned to stone and a giant knot formed in my throat. I felt like I was choking. 

Her younger sister whispered, “what kind of cancer do you have?”

“Breast cancer. Terminal stage.” She said. 

I slowly turned around and walked with slow heavy footsteps towards the bathroom around the corner from the kitchen. I slowly and silently closed the door and locked it. I lowered myself down to sit on the edge of the mint green coloured bathtub that sat right next to the door. I covered my face and began to cry. 

Remembering back to that time, I feel ashamed for not having a mother’s intuition and figuring out what was wrong earlier. I remember thinking that this was far from a vacation for her. It was the beginning of the journey to the end. 

[amandawong99-blog]

The Last Time

While I was over at my mother’s house visiting her and dad, my mother was bustling around the house hurriedly bringing things to the guest room. I looked over to my father who was sitting in his favourite brown leather reclining chair and asked him who mom was preparing the house for. He peered over his silver rimmed reading glasses and lowered the newspaper. 

“Your sister is coming down from Edmonton in a week. Didn’t you see her email?” he said in Cantonese. 

“I’ve been so busy with the kids’ after school schedule I haven’t had time to read my emails. Does Sue and Charlotte know?” I asked in English. 

“Not sure. Ask your sisters yourself.” He said returning to his newspaper. 

Ever since the kids started school, my life has been dedicated to chauffeuring them to their extra-curricular activities. I’m practically their private secretary who cooks, cleans, drives and schedules their lives for them. 

Since i’m the youngest in the family, I was so used to being taken care of and being looked after by my parents and older siblings. Once I married and had kids, I had to take the initiative to look out for myself and function independently. It’s been fifteen years of rushing around and constantly running out of time. I’ve had enough! I don’t even have time to check my emails. No one even takes care of me, let alone help me out! I’m exhausted. 

I’m excited to hear that she’s coming home now, though. She was like a mother to me since she was so much older and the most responsible one out of us four daughters. I’ve missed her dearly. She always makes sure to call me from time to time and see that i’m still holding up, but it’ll be nice to get to spend quality time with her in person. I just have to write it down in my calendar before I forget. 

The week of waiting for her arrival flew by. I lived my weekdays in a hurry to finish my daily chores before the kids were dismissed from school and during the weekends I went to work and had to deal with my crazed supervisors and their hypocritical comments about work efficiency. Time was simply passing me by at the speed of light. 

On the day of her arrival I drove my kids, my husband and myself over to my mother’s house where we were all expected to gather to welcome my oldest sister home from Edmonton. When the family comes together, that’s when I can be released of all my worries and be the spoiled little sister again instead of the responsible mom and wife. I was so excited. 

I arrived at my mom’s house an hour late from the time we were expected to be there, but it seemed like my sister hadn’t landed yet. Once I entered the house i tried to make an effort to greet everyone with proper etiquette to show my kids the importance of manners. I hope they learn from my example. Once I settled the kids in and took out all their colouring books and entertainment devices from my excessively large brown leather shoulder purse, I poured myself a cup of lychee tea and sat myself down on my parent’s familiar black leather couch. I could finally relax. 

Around three hours passed, and the sound of the front door could be heard unlocking, but I couldn’t be bothered to get up just yet. I just wanted a few more minutes of relaxing and being motionless. She came into the room and I saw that everyone’s mood lightened. When I first saw her come into the room I had the emotions of a lost toddler who finally found their mother in a random aisle in the grocery store. Immense relief and a wave of tranquility washed over me. She’s here. My Haven. 

She chit chatted with our other sisters and brother in-laws and asked their kids how school was and commented on how much they’ve matured since the last time she saw them. Finally, when she came up to me I felt giddy inside and hugged her immediately. When I pulled back I noticed that up close her face looked so ... worn. Her eye bags were grey and her complexion was dull, but what stood out to me the most was the fear hidden within her eyes. She looked away for a moment, her smile fading, but continued to asked me about the status of my life. I didn’t realize that my eyes were wide, and my mouth was slightly agape until I shut my mouth and blinked, making my eyes sting and water. 

“How’ve you been? You look a little tired! Is it because the kids are back in school now? She asked in Cantonese under her smile. 

“Uh... yeah... yeah yeah” I said while distractedly analyzing her face. “The kids are getting older so I decided to enroll them in a bunch of sports and art classes to see if they liked anything enough to specialize in it... you know... so that hopefully they can accomplish something and put it on their resume.” I said after wiping my dismayed expression off my face. 

“That’s good to hear. I’m sure we’ll be talking more about the kids throughout my visit. I should go say hi to dad now, be right back.” She said as she rose from the couch. 

I watched her cross the carpeted living room and walk towards dad. I sunk myself back into the couch, but my euphoric relaxation had been replaced with an unsettled feeling. She didn’t come home for a vacation, there was something more to her unseasonal return home. She usually came home for Christmas or summer, so this visit in April was very strange... also... she didn’t look as lively and energetic as she usually does. 

When everyone had settled down and had the chance to have a small one on one conversation with her, she leaned against the large glass sliding doors that stood in between the kitchen and the family room that I was sitting in. 

“I have to tell you all something... Gno m’lay (I didn’t come) here only for a vacation... Gno lay (I came) here to get chemo treatments from the hospitals here because they have better treatment programs here.” She said in a mixture of English and Cantonese so that everyone in the room could understand her. 

My mind went blank. My twenty years of work experience as a bedside nurse instinctively made me start to leaf through my mental encyclopedia of cancer types. There were some that were significantly worse than others. So, maybe she’s still curable. 

“What kind of cancer do you have?” I said hoarsely and unintentionally quietly. 

“Breast cancer. Terminal stage.” She said staring at me. 

I felt my mind, heart, and breath stop. I stared at her blankly unable to respond or form a thought. My eyes burned from keeping them open too long and my mouth was dry from the overwhelming sorrow, but I couldn’t look away from her. I kept asking myself why. Why did all beautiful flowers have to wither away so quickly? Why did this have to happen to her? Why didn’t she tell us earlier? 

Remembering this life changing moment for my family and I made me uncomfortably conscious of how many years have passed since her last trip home. I still think about her all the time and feel her absence during our weekly family dinners... but I would like to think that beyond those big pearly gates that await us all, she’s doing better than the last time I saw her.