This was a part of my journal I wrote sometime before. I was reading through my old writings for fun, and thought that I should perhaps share this story with others in this forum that I came to like so much. I hope it is worthwhile, or at least, entertaining.

Warning: it is full of emotion and private thought. If you don't like that, don't read







Recently, I had interesting sequences of events that made me realize how I might have been approaching my life in a wrong manner. It was revelation of a sort, in which the darkest day also provided the brightest moment in my life. I know, it sounds pompous. But it was instructive and I felt I should commemorate this lesson by engraving the story in my memory.

It was like any other day. I was walking in the parking lot of a massive grocery store I visit every weekend to restock on my daily needs. However, unlike any other day, I ran into a teacher from my childhood. It was my middle school ESL (English as a Second Language) class teacher, Mrs. T. I met her three days after I came to the States. I was lost, completely unable to speak any English, and she literally taught me A to Z and what there was to know about this new country: the country that now I feel as my new home.

Overcome with a pleasant surprise, I walked straight to her and greeted her. I noticed she was sitting on a wheel chair, looked much older than I remembered, but I didn’t let that betray my emotion. However, my “hello” triggered rather an odd response from my old teacher. She first asked, “Do I know you?” When I told her who I was, she made a funny look, and said she never was a teacher. And then, she started talking about her life, the story which, made sense vaguely for the most part. For the rest, whatever she said, it didn’t make sense at all.

Being a student who is only about to enter the medical school this July, I am definitely not capable of cold-diagnosing anyone. But I knew enough about some common diseases I learned from my undergraduate course. She was suffering from a severe episode of Altzheimer’s disease. She didn’t recognize me of course. She probably couldn’t recognize her own family. To my rescue, someone approached us. The man introduced himself as Mrs. T’s son, and he confirmed my doubt that she was suffering from this terrible affliction.

I was sad and disappointed. I tried to strike some more conversation with my teacher before they left, but it was largely frustrating because I couldn’t have any normal interaction with her. I thought about getting her number so that I could talk to them again in future, but I came to conclude that it would be a waste of effort. We said farewell to each other, and parted on our own ways.

Several days later, I was in a dinner with my life’s longest and most deeply known friends. We were all seniors that were about to graduate college. We knew this would be probably the last time we may see each other before moving on to the next stage of life. We truly enjoyed our last moments together. We made vulgar jokes, laughed for nothing, told each other how we really will miss one another and our last stage of youth as we now are about to truly become adults in every sense of the word.

When this loud, enjoyable, and emotional dinner party was over, I looked at the scenery of the room one last time to capture the memory in my head. As everyone was leaving, I sat in my chair, trying to project image of all my friends, delicious food, and all the laughter we had into my memory. However, as I did so, I had a daunting realization that even as I was spending my seconds holding onto this glorious last moment of friendship, the time was inevitably passing, and I was only becoming more distant to that moment.

A certain thought crossed my mind. I didn’t know why, but I felt I must do something now. I got into my car, and then called one of my friends from the middle school who ended up in the same college with me. It was a late time to call, but at that moment, I felt that it shouldn’t deter me. She was somewhat surprised that I called her, since I only met her few times in our college years. I asked her if she knew the phone number for our middle school principal (her mother taught at the middle school). She said yes, and with that number, I called the principal, excused my rudeness to call so late. I asked her for the number of Mrs. T if she knew it. She did. And I got her number.

Now, when I called Mrs. T, a man picked up the phone. I recognized the voice because this was the same man I met at the parking lot. I introduced and excused myself for calling so late (for the third time), and asked if I could talk to Mrs. T. After a short moment of silence, the gentleman said yes, but he also told me not to expect any meaningful interaction, to which I reply I already knew that. When Mrs. T was on the phone, she of course had no idea who I was. Regardless, I started talking to her. I told her how although she may not remember me now, I was very happy to see her again at the grocery store few days ago. I told her how grateful I was for everything she taught me. I told her I was very well integrated into American society and that I was very happy to be where I am. I told her what she did for me in early phase of life was very important for me, and that I will always remember her with the fondest affection. Mrs. T was silent for a moment, then said “why, thank you, young man.” She never called me by my name, so I felt slightly frustrated since I knew she still didn’t remember me. Regardless, I was glad that I did what did. I said goodbye politely and hung up.

Next day morning, while I was still sleeping, my cell phone rang. I was somewhat irritated, as I couldn’t sleep till very late for some reason the night before. Still, I picked up the phone and answered. A familiar voice. The man introduced himself with his full name this time. It was Mr. T. He said that Mrs. T passed away last night. To my biggest surprise, he also told me that before Mrs. T had her last breathe, she said several sensible things, including mentioning my name. He told me that she said to him “tell my old student (my name) that I was very glad to talk to him again for the last time.” Last night when I called, the son of Mrs. T did not ask for my number, so he didn’t know it. He said that he called a person after another person to reach me, and that he felt he had to do it. I said thank you. I said I really appreciated hearing it.

I couldn’t go back to sleep anymore. I picked up an apple from the refrigerator, and I walked out to my porch. A strange, undescribable sensation of emotions came through me. I felt that life must be viewed, appreciated, and felt in the present tense. There was no such thing as doing something later. It was now, or never. I finally understood, at least I thought, what it meant for one to actually live instead of merely existing. Yes, it is a trite and overused saying, but we call future, future, and past, past. But we call present as “present” because it is a gift. It is something to be appreciated, enjoyed, and lived to its fullest potential. The sunlight was dazzling. Yes, it was the same sunlight I see everyday. But it also was not. It was the only sunlight I will see today, at this very present moment. A subtle smile raised my lips for few seconds, and I knew everything would be different now.



I hope everyone is enjoying the day, today. See you guys.

FadeAway

Interesting...

Wow, very well written and very emotional. At the end of the story, it brought chills on my skin.

good story

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Once you go Asian, you'll never go caucasian

That was very, very touching FadeAway. I think I actually learned something from it.

That was a very beautiful and touching story Fade.

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That story brought tears to my eyes and touched my heart. Thank you for sharing it with us.

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So many (Asian) men ... so little time ... ha ha

Very sweet yet sad