The truth is I had a hard time to grow up without my biological mother. At the same time, both of the adults in my family are suffering from schizophrenia. Even though the mad world with grey shadow clouded my childhood, it doesn’t make my obsession with colorful thoughts less useful or depressing. I grew up with rainbow unicorns, shiny glitter wishes with laughter enriching my creativity and imagination which become the positive core fuel to have a colorful life in adulthood. Life isn’t just about searching happiness but also the importance of suffering and sacrifice to the family. I learned the great lesson of sacrifice from my grandmother.
I did not know after my grandmother passed away, she raised my brother and I while she was fighting her cancer and nobody knew, except my dad and grandmother. Even they had schizophrenia, but that didn’t mean they were not the role models of my life in a positive way. They were the misfortune ones that fight all the time like the heroes in my comic book. If there were a medal to give, I would say they deserved the gold medals of fighting so hard on living, even they must be suicidal inside their mad mind.
I left the Castle Peak hospital with sadness, at the same time a relief of how my dad still in check with reality, not completely insane.
Joyful thoughts and couldn’t wait to get him out of the hospital and put him in a peaceful environment alone.
When I arrived at the elderly home, grandmother was eating her lunch. Her smile and friendly welcome warmed my heart. She no longer remembered that she was in an elderly home in Hong Kong but treated this 100 square ft room as her home. At least she was happy staying here and show no sign like a worry doll. I remembered her constant worries about everything from my childhood, and those worries made her wrinkle lines deep and long through time passed. Her smiles stay in my heart, and constant warms my emotion. I always look upon her as my role model to become a friendly good-hearted person.
There was never a time grandmother not caring about my brother and I. Often her tears of sadness made us super guilty. Remembered long ago, one of us did something naughty, she would pull out the chicken fur cane and spank us. By the third cane spank marks on our butts, we would apologize. The marks hurt badly. Every single time I notice grandma’s tears and how well she held her tears within without a weep, we felt super guilty. I cannot use any vocabulary to describe how bad I felt.
Grandmother, you treated us well and gave us the moral lessons we need for moving forward.
Thank you, grandmother Jasmine Sze. I love you.