I remember the first time I greeted you with a kiss.
Over 25 years of weekly family dinners, birthday celebrations and holidays together, you got used to my displays of affection. Now I long for the days when we could be in the same room, when I would kiss you on the cheek and you would respond with a big smile and an “Oh, hi” in your lovely, lilting accent. These days, there are no kisses, and fewer warm smiles as we speak with you through Zoom.
Shortly after I gave birth, you were sitting next to me on the couch, watching me struggle to breastfeed. Tears streamed down my cheeks because my bundle of joy would not latch on. Without hesitation, you grabbed my breast and shoved it into my baby’s mouth. No fooling around. You just got the job done, like you always do.
When I wasn’t feeling well, you scooped up your granddaughters so I could rest. When I picked them up, I’d often find you sitting on a chair with the girls on the floor; they’d be staring up at you with admiration as you taught them Mandarin. Even at a young age they so wanted to be able to speak to you and Ye Ye in your native tongue.Over the last five years, the cruelty of dementia has taken away these intimate moments between us.
That is SO wonderful, Ingrid. Fine writing.
What a wonderful story and relationship!
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