In July 2014 my beloved grandmother passed away at the age of 93. I was fortunate enough to spend the final weeks of her life with her. As grandma slipped between the realm of the living and the realm of spirits, she switched from incoherence to complete lucidity without warning. She told me a few stories I had never known about her.
In WWII
In Shanghai
My grandmother gave birth to her first child
--a daughter.
One more mouth to feed
When food was scarce.
A daughter, wartime:
Double unhappy.
(Before the birth, a Japanese soldier
Guarding the line for rice rations
Pointed his bayonet at my grandmother's arms.
She had crossed them over her belly,
A gesture of modesty.
To the soldier: Defiance.
Shouts. Chaos. More shouting.
She dropped her arms to her sides
Heart pounding
Bladder loosing.)
When the baby came
Barely a peep.
Her face wan, her eyes dark and sunken.
The doctor said she would not live.
It was wartime.
There was not a lot to eat.
When she heard of an opening
For a wet nurse
For a well-to-do family
Her husband and mother-in-law said,
"Go. Save yourself."
The well-to-do family
Had an infant son.
They fed my grandmother well to increase her milk supply.
They paid her a salary
That she sent home every week to her family.
My grandmother grew sick of the elaborate soups.
Her milk supply was robust.
It was wartime.
Back home her sickly infant daughter ate thin porridge
Made of rice from the ration-line
Guarded by Japanese soldiers
Holding bayonets.
Her daughter did not survive past 6 months.
Come to think of it, soup was never my grandma's thing.
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| Grandma holding me (left) and my brother (right) |
Thank you for sharing your grandmother's story. Your poem exudes with her lucidity and clairvoyance as she approached the spirit world. The poignancy of your poem captures your grandmother and her family's plight: hunger, separation, war. She must have felt so torn being fed. She must have felt so torn when she had to leave her own daughter to go feed another baby, so she could earn a salary to help her family.
ReplyDeleteYour poem paid homage to your aunt's six months on this earth.
Thank you for sharing your grandma's story. The picture of your grandmother holding you and your brother is a testimony to her strength.
She was so matter of fact when she told me this story in a moment of complete lucidity. She was so ready to go home, as she called death sometimes, and just wanted me to know this before she went. I kept it together when she told me but I cried in private afterward. I had an aunt I never knew about. She had a daughter she couldn't feed during wartime and that very milk she made for the other family was the price of survival. Crazy.
DeleteOH and notice my hair in that picture... that took HOURS to tame, I'm sure. Lion Head to photoshoot ready. My grandma loved us so much, and we her.
DeleteWhat an intense story. Thank you for sharing it. I am glad you were able to have such a meaningful relationship with her at the end of her life. <3
ReplyDeleteWOW. This poem is such a powerful story. I could only imagine leaving her own child to take care of another...such effective language, too. The use of "wan." I didn't know you wrote poetry! You should write more. I am learning so much about my colleagues during this challenge. What a blessing. Thank you for sharing this memory.
ReplyDeleteThis was simply heartbreaking.
ReplyDelete