Her Life

Shen Xiu Rong, my Niang Niang, was born in 1926 to the third wife of a wealthy landowner.  If you asked her, she would admit herself that she was "raised in a pool of sugar water," the Chinese way of saying "born with a silver spoon in her mouth."  Her father, my great-grandfather, seemed to run the village.  He was a sharp businessman who owned pharmacies, paved roads, started schools, ran factories, built bridges, and was respected by everyone in his community.  Their house was decorated with the most intricately carved redwood furniture, and my grandma wore the finest jade jewelry.  She was never in want of anything that money could buy.

But then the Communist Party took power, and her life changed forever.  The family lost everything during the Great Leap Forward, and what little they had left was stripped away during the Cultural Revolution.  The half-brother who raised my grandma committed suicide to avoid being framed for treason.  But she persisted, and did everything she could to support her children.  When my grandparents didn't have enough money to take care of their second daughter, they made the difficult decision to send her off to live with a farmer's family so that she could at least have food to eat.  When their fifth daughter was born with a cleft palate, they ignored the doctors and friends who told them to throw her away.  My grandma nursed my aunt to health, and she sold the beautiful house she and my grandpa owned to pay for the medical bills.  When my mother's generation was forced to work in sweatshops and factories, my grandma took it upon herself to raise each and every one of her grandchildren.  Niang Niang was the glue that held our family together.  Without her, none of us would be who we are today.

I'm glad that Niang Niang lived long enough to see the Shen family persevere.  Her half-nieces and half-nephews attended the best colleges in the country and are now all high-ranking government officials.  Like her ancestors, my grandma was powerful yet humble.  During her last days, I realized that she drew that strength from her Lord and Savior.  After her stroke two weeks ago, she was no longer able to communicate with anyone else.  The only thing that she was able to say was, "Thanks be to God.  Amen."  No matter what you said to her, she would repeat it, over and over again.  I am comforted knowing that even when she didn't recognize her husband and children, even when she couldn't articulate anything for herself, she knew that she was going to go home to be with God.

I've been looking at pictures of Niang Niang all day, but the only ones I have on my computer are from the last time I visited her in 2007.

Making wontons.  I'm telling you, she taught me my love for nomz.

Enjoying frozen durian fruit.  She would kill me if she knew I was sharing this picture.

Taken the morning I left to come back to the States.  I had no idea then that this would be the last picture I ever took with both of my grandparents.
Niang Niang, I am proud to have known you for 24 years of my life.  You are the greatest, most accomplished, and most understanding person I have ever known.  If I had to venture a guess, I'd say that you're probably strolling through the Heavenly gardens right now, showing the angels how they should be taking care of the flowers.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.