“The mind is not a book to be opened at will and examined at leisure.” – Severus Snape
I’ve been trying to remember my aunt who just recently passed away battling colon cancer* which had also spread to her kidneys. Specifically, I’ve been trying to relive some good memories of her. But then, memories don’t often sort themselves as such so neatly. If you dig up one, you tend to let loose several, a large swath that may or may not be exactly navigable. The slightest association can take off and send you to places you hadn’t planned on. This is good, I suppose. I think my mind is just trying to see the whole picture of her. I reckon it’s not really fair to only conjure one or two specific memories. Better to just let it all wash back over you. Maybe this is a new way to learn, akin to the now oft spoken phrase referred to as “hindsight or 20/20.” Hard to learn something from someone if you nitpick out your own moments.
All in all, as a kid, my aunt always seemed kind of mean. I used to think that all Taiwanese women were mean because I really only knew one growing up. Only a child would extrapolate this negative all-encompassing assumption. Imagine Professor Snape. He really came off like a villain in the beginning, and really for most of the plot. He was often callous and judgmental to his students and we never got much of his backstory until the end. But at this storied end of the whole epic ordeal, he turns out to be just a tough-love, deep undercover, misunderstood tragic-type of person. Highly uncomfortable with showing vulnerability. After all, he had been living his entire life as one volatile tricky situation that most people around him could not possibly relate to or understand. If the only option of interaction from another is pity, perhaps it might be best not to offer the option at all.
When someone acts disagreeable to us as a kid, we only feel the black and white dark entanglement of unfairness in the situation. But as an adult, we have learnt the capacity to look back and see a larger picture of one’s character. We don’t always understand it but we notice that the portrait is much more intricate. Perhaps like the opposite of returning to one’s childhood home and thinking everything seems so much smaller than before.
At any rate, I’d like to share my favorite memory of my Aunt Lucia. It was my very first roller coaster ride. I was pretty excited. My older sister opted out, a bit suspect of the whole experience. My younger brother wanted in, but alas, he was just under the height regulation. So it just ended up being my cousin, my aunt and myself. The first drop was extremely scary, stomach drop and all. My cousin and aunt started screaming, and like everyone else, they never stopped until the end. I definitely felt like I might die in that first drop. It was intense. I never uttered a peep though. Not at all throughout the entire ride either. By the end, I was enthralled by the experience and already looking forward to the next ride. Then my aunt came over to me and looked me straight in the eyes. She said something like “Why weren’t you screaming?” and was half laughing, part in shock with part disappointment that I never made a sound. (I can be pretty internal.) I had never seen so many expressions co-existing on her face before. It was such a wide range of emotion and yet such a happy moment. I had not realized this was my favorite memory of her until she passed two Sundays ago. I am not even sure of the last time I saw my aunt in person. My last communications with her were mostly via my cousin and a few get well cards. The past few years though, I can attest, she was no longer a mean Taiwanese lady in my head. She was supportive and wondered what I was up to in my distant endeavors. My cousin says she still had a lot of fight till the end.
I wonder now if all the best memories make you feel a bizarre assortment of happy, sad, confused and alive.
*I’m also pretty sad about the recent passing of Chadwick Boseman who as it turns out, struggled with the same terminal illness.