The cold, snowy winter in Prince George reminds me constantly of my dearest Grandma. When she was a little girl, my Grandma lived in a small scenic city in remote northeastern China, with large trees that covered the mountainside and a wide river, which ran through the centre of the city.
Although she passed away several years ago, she still lives vividly in the hearts of her descendants. She was a common yet extraordinary woman and this is her story.
Grandma was a typical traditional Chinese woman. She was born in a very rich family eighty-five years ago and experienced almost all of the unstableness and revolutions of old China, as well as the reforms of new China. She was lucky because she was such a beautiful woman and had a kind heart. My handsome Grandpa fell in love with her at first sight. They married and lived peacefully and happily with six lovely children, who came into the world one after another. Unfortunately, my intelligent and capable Grandpa died of cancer when he was only forty years old, leaving the children and the burden of life to Grandma.
From that time on, she began working day and night; she never remarried. Her hard work and decades of thriftiness paid off when one child after another finished their education, found jobs, married and had their own children. She never stopped caring for the children and tried her best to look after the grandchildren.
Since I was Grandma’s favourite granddaughter, I had more chances than others to be quite close to her inner world. I found that her love for Grandpa never died, although she seldom mentioned this to other people. Occasionally, the young grandchildren would discuss enthusiastically whether the old generation, like Grandma, knew very well “what love is”. Some of my cousins couldn’t understand her loyalty to her husband and her total devotion to the children. Some thought she was too conservative, old-fashioned and even a victim of the old doctrines for women. I was always against those opinions. On many occasions, I was deeply moved by her long gaze at the photo of Grandpa, who looked so young and good-tempered. The authentic love of my grandparents was always there. Grandma spent her life keeping their love eternal. When she was dying, she told the children to bury her with Grandpa. She hoped to enjoy their future life and love.
Grandma has been gone for several years now, but the gifts she left me I hold dear to my heart and carry with me. In the drawers of my writing desk, there are three handmade purses and a pair of gloves embroidered with butterflies and flowers, evidence of Grandma’s deft hands and clever mind. Many times she had sat on the edge of the bed sewing or embroidering exquisite articles for the young kids. When I was dating a nice young man, she embroidered a gorgeous phoenix on my wool sweater, to show her blessing. The young man later became my husband. He loves my grandma as deeply as I do. Whenever I wear that sweater, I receive compliments from others. People often say that it looks as if the phoenix can speak. That’s true; I know it’s telling me how deep my Grandma’s love is.
The last time I visited the small city where she had lived, several old people told me an unknown story about Grandma, “ Your Grandma was such a kind person that she never quarreled with others. Once, she was knocked down while walking in the street by a young girl riding a bicycle. The girl was frightened and started to cry because the usual consequences of those accidents involved paying a large sum of money. But your Grandma turned to soothe the young girl and told her to go home quickly. The girl was touched by her kindness and insisted on helping Grandma to the hospital to have a medical check up. After that, they became good friends. The girl went to see your Grandma frequently until her death.” Hearing the story, I felt proud of my Grandma. I understood thoroughly the old Chinese saying, “ Flying by, the swallow leaves its sweet song; passing by, a good person leaves good reputation.”
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