My Fourth Auntie
Where should I begin to reminisce about my past jovial time being with her? Or even if I did can comb my memories in a serial time order, what all this could matter if she can no long be with me? She passed away so abruptly, without any omen, that I have already lost any chance to call on her ever again.
I remember when we three siblings were quite young, our parents used to bring us
to visit her family, which was in our neighboring city. As our family that time
was far from well off, our parents can’t afford to buy us new clothes. Things
hence always went this way: My elder sister wore our cousin’s used clothes, I my elder sister’s used ones, and my brother Mother’s hand-made ones.
But our Fourth Auntie that time was doing business in town, so every time we went there, she would buy each of us brand-new clothes, so that my sister and I wouldn't need to always dress worn ones, and my brother wouldn't be teased by his peers for dressing ill-made trousers. And not merely this. She would also carry us to watch movies, eat tasty food, and accompany us to play around in town.
Because we three children were born in the countryside, those varied shops along
the roads downtown once satisfied our most curiosity. We looked, strolled about
, and exclaimed, all reluctant to leave. Then my fourth auntie would just let us
play to our hearts' content. And after an exhaustive day, she wouldn’t complain a bit but only smiled to our parents and said it was so much fun.
So many years have passed by since then. The last time I met her was two years ago when our maternal grandmother passed away. After the funeral, she, as well as
our third auntie, fifth auntie, came to our home by tractor. At dinner table everyone was silent. Everyone was sad.
I looked at her wrinkled face and white hair, once again realizing how ruthless
time was. Once she was so young and beautiful. Where had the woman with a mother
-like smile gone, or where had time hidden her, sitting beside her and thinking
about it, I felt my heart was like cut by a sharp-edged sword.
Later on after the dinner was over, she asked my sister, my brother and me to go
upstairs with her. From her bag three clothes were brought out and set in front
of us: two skirts for Sister and me and a pair of shorts for Brother. I didn’t
know how my sister and my brother felt, but I was heart-struck. I wept alone in
the room. Though I knew I should be happy, I just can’t help it.
I was once not a maudlin girl. But as time rolled on and on, I become so prone to cry and feel melancholy, as more and more my beloved relatives became older and older, and then in time left me. Life brings one to maturity, I used not to believe it, but now I believe. For you have but to become mature and strong in order to endure the grieves one after another that life throngs to you.
It says that life itself is an endless parting and gathering party. So if I cannot prevent people from leaving me, at least I may learn to engrave them into my
memory so that they will always remain at the bottom of my heart, so that anything, even death, cannot part us away.
Caroline.
