My Mother was raised in India. She went to school in the Himilayan Mountains. She was exotic and strange to me because I was raised in provinces of China. We were of different cultures. I spoke Mandarin and street Taiwanese, she Hindi and English with a slight hint of a British Accent.
Most of my life, in fact perhaps clear up until a few months ago, I didn't understand my mother and we had difficulty between us. When I came to take care of her back in January, that changed.
My youngest brother Timothy is a wordsmith and the night she died he said it best...he had been flying through the night to reach me and my mother and while enroute was amazed as he looked down through his airplane window at how beautiful the Eastern seaboard is from 10,000 feet above. He had always thought my Mother's life tragic and sad and that in recent years, things had not gone well for her, but then he saw her from 10,000 feet and saw everything about her differently and with a panoramic perspective.
Most of my life I saw my mother from her alleys, back doors, kitchens, septic systems and wiring panels, from a view so close as to render her landscape nothing but miswirings and faulty pipes. It was only as she died, that I got that 10,000 foot aerial persepctive and saw for the first time what every single other person around her saw; her majesty, eloquence, wit, beauty and ability to tell the best story about the most mundane thing. It was right under my nose all the time.
Her memorial is tomorrow. My brothers, daughter and sisters- in -law have gathered beside me at my mother's old home in Williamsburg to make arrangments. We have put right her house, sorted photos, written and cooked a good deal of food. I have done everything but paint.
I also realized today, that every single record of paintings I have done, I have posted. I am dry. This is my last painting until I can start new. I have so many planned and half done, but not a day at home in my studio in months.
Soon.
~the Four Children of Mrs. Bao gathered at the old family home. A new dynasty had begun and everything would be different.
Your mother sounds like a beautiful exotic flower, filled with magic and story telling. I see her story telling ability through your art dear Jeanne-Ming. Sending you my love and thoughts and prayers in this difficult transition.
ReplyDeleteDear Jeanne Ming, your mother is a graceful person.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for this heartfelt sharing on "10,000 foot aerial perspective".
May the love of those around you help you through the days ahead.
I am happy for you that you had the opportunity to see your Mother with new eyes and perspective.
ReplyDeleteBy your description I suspect that you and your Mother were very much alike...but seeing things from a different perspective.
My thoughts are with you and your family...may the love you share help you though the tough times ahead.
What a lovely tribute. My prayers are with you as you navigate the coming days.
ReplyDeleteYou are an amazing writer as well as a talented artist. Judy sent me over to see this beautiful tribute to your mother. You see, my mother passed the day before yours. She was born, raised, and died in Nebraska, yet she was still often strange and exotic to me. Thank you for this amazing perspective.
ReplyDeleteWishing you peace and love and lots of happy memories.
"Most of my life I saw my mother from her alleys, back doors, kitchens, septic systems and wiring panels, from a view so close as to render her landscape nothing but miswirings and faulty pipes. It was only as she died, that I got that 10,000 foot aerial persepctive and saw for the first time what every single other person around her saw; her majesty, eloquence, wit, beauty and ability to tell the best story about the most mundane thing. It was right under my nose all the time."
ReplyDeletei am sitting here with tears streaming down my face. these are the words of my heart. these are the words that so often make me want to reach my hand out to the time clock of life, and rewind, do it all over, and recognize my mom from that same aerial view.
I actually can't find the words to say how much this account of your mothers passing meant to me.
ReplyDeleteYou should write a book.
Really, you should.
May I ask, is it possible to buy your paintings?
Or prints of them?
I love them so much.
Peace to you and your family during these transitional days.
x
Obviously word smithery runs in the family. What a beautiful perspective, so eloquently rendered. And what an amazing life you have all had.
ReplyDeleteI feel very lucky that I am one of those fortunate ones who has appreciated my mother from very close up for most of a lifetime. My mother was not so fortunate with her mother, so I know this is not always the case. I hope that Q and I will be able to love one another at close range for a long time to come.
Love and hugs to you.
I am moved by your love, your heartfelt writing and your painting. My mum and I are very similar yet so different, I so much want to be a good Chinese daughter for her yet often disappointed her with my 'western' thinking (that is what she said during our disagreement which always made me mad and sad) I want to give her a call tonight and tell her I miss her. Thank you for sharing your feeling with us, wish much love to you to go through this hard time... Yanyan
ReplyDeleteI had touched on your blog because of your breathtaking art, and then I read your story about you and your mother, so much to think about, thank you for sharing. Bless you, and take great care of yourself, I know this is such a difficult time. My mother has cancer and know I will be facing this as well,one day....no one really knows our fate, that final day. hugging you...take good care.
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