I have a lot of favorite stories about my grandmother, but the one that comes to mind today is when my grandfather fell ill at Melanie's Berkeley graduation way back in '93. We were out eating at this italian place down on Shattuck when he became very weak and tired so we took him back to the Travelodge on University where they were staying. Now, when faced with any medical malady the first thing that comes to any Chinese person's mind is... we need some hot water. Well, popo is no different but unfortunately they were in a hotel room and not in her kitchen. Anyway, long story short, somehow this amazing woman got water to boil on the little burner attached to the motel coffee maker. She didn't put the water through the machine mind you, she somehow willed the water to boil on the burner alone. This took all night and she was exhausted in the morning but Gung gung got his water and was better the next day. This act of boiling water, while simple, has served to me as the image of devotion and love.
I was given the task of telling this beautiful woman last night, that her cancer had spread from her kidney, to her lungs, and now to her bones. And I witnessed my hero come to terms with her own morality. How did she take it you ask? How do you think she took it.
