In Remembrance: Unnamed older folks who taught me love

Guess age has some secret access to things of value.
Antiques.
Wines.

Older folks somehow have a lot more to pass on, if only younger minds have the sensitivity to take in.
But if the younger minds age, the perspective gives birth to wisdom.

There’s another catch too.

Age, if blended with miseries, would yield life wisdom.
For they are the real blood and tears experience.

Several old ladies I knew from the church in SF, have blessed me with wisdom of life and love.
Every now and then I miss them.

Here they come to life.
All had a story.
Just like “In Remembrance: Mrs.”

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Ms SZ

She was at every Sunday morning prayer session held before the worship service.
About 8:30 am.
Real early.
Real cool weather.
Really rarely attended by members.
She was really thin.
Coughed often.
Thermo bottle handy.

I didn’t investigate if that was her maiden or last name.
No longer important.

She prayed.
Attended church.
She left.
Thin.
Flimsy.

Every Sunday.
No fuss.

Once I took a few Choy Sum and soy sauce to her elders’ apt in downtown when she wasn’t feeling well.
It was just a basic human move, not even pastoral.

Next when she was better she handed me a lot more than I gave her!
From there I dared not take things to her.

She was telling me she had backbone.
She needed no welfare.

Later I learned that she had had lung issues.
No wonder her thermo always handy.

Then she got checked into hospice and perhaps dementia caught up with her.
I visited her once, in Sunset district.
The last time.

I believe angels would escort her to eternal rest.
If only I could see her …

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Miss H

She had difficulty walking.
Also early signs of Parkinson.

She has been in SF many years.
Spoke impeccable English; and Cantonese too.
I never investigated but she must be quite well off, having been in the city for so long.

Her husband has been incapacitated, staying in bed in a room at home.
He has tubes and everything connected.
Not sure he even knew my presence.

One day H asked me to go with her to hospital.
To visit her husband.
Apparently home wasn’t adequate then.

“How often you go to hospital to visit him?”
“Daily.”
“You have difficulties walking. Why do you do that?”
“Why? He is my husband.”

I felt so dumb.
So childish.
So commercial.

In H’s worldview, not because of anything else.
Just because “he was my husband.”

Nothing else needed to be said.
Principle and relationship guided her.

She too had her dementia moments later.
Stories about her and in laws.
That didn’t matter now.
Her Savior knew.
She must be with Him.

I wish I could see her.

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Mrs M

I knew her as Mrs M.
Later found out her maiden name was T.

I knew her son first.
He was in a place where cancer patients would spend their final days.
Then she came to the church.
Turned out she was estranged from her husband.
A terrible husband I gathered.

Then her son passed away.
She kept coming to the church.

Somehow I got along with her.
It appeared to give her consolation.
And she came to church regularly, sometimes before work on Sunday.
I never asked about her work or living.
But she seemed content.

Then one day I found out she had to go to SF General to do ballooning.
She declined any help.
As far as I knew she got there, did the procedure, got back home all on her own.
Strong woman.
Weathered all the storms a marriage and family would throw against her.

She kept coming to church.
Hugged me every time, looked happy.
I hope church gave her what she was poor at.

I don’t know if she’s alive still.
Never saw her since last visit.
I could only send blessings from afar.
But I wish to see her at the sound of trumpet.

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These are three strong women.
Each has her own story.
Some more privileged.
Others less so.

Whatever, they found a way to be content at adversities.
They found strength and rationale to remain strong.

They had access to a simple trust of God and a belief of what’s the right thing to do.

They had much to teach me, someone who had more degrees and books of Bible than they.

I was blessed to have come to know them and learned from them.

Just hope one day I can see them all again.
And maybe a hug too, if that’s permitted.