“Beautiful” She Said
佚名 / Anonymous
I never thought that I understood her. She always seemed so far away from me. I loved her, of course. We shared mutual love from the day I was born. I came into this world with a bashed head and deformed features because of the hard labor my mother had gone through. Family members and friends wrinkled their noses at the disfigured baby I was. They all commented on how much I looked like a beat-up football player. But no, not her. Nana thought I was beautiful. Her eyes twinkled with splendor and happiness at the ugly baby in her arms. Her first granddaughter. “Beautiful.” She said.
Before final exams in my junior year of high school, she died. Seven years ago, her doctors diagnosed Nana with Alzheimer’s disease. Seven years ago, our family became experts on this disease as, slowly, we lost her.
She always spoke in fragmented sentences. As the years passed, the words she spoke became fewer and fewer, until finally she said nothing at all. We were lucky to get one occasional word out of her. It was then our family knew she was near the end.
About a week or so before she died, she lost the abilities for her body to function at all, and the doctors decided to move her to a hospice. A hospice where those who entered would never come out.
I told my parents I wanted to see her. I had to see her. My uncontrollable curiosity had taken a step above my gut-wrenching fear.
My mother brought me to the hospice two days after my request. My grandfather and two of my aunts were there as well, but all hung back in the hallway as I entered Nana’s room. She was sitting in a big, fluffy chair next to her bed, slouched over, eyes shut, mouth numbly hanging open. The morphine was keeping her asleep. My eyes darted around the room at the windows, the flowers, and the way Nana looked. I was struggling very hard to take it all in, knowing that this would be the last time I ever saw her alive.
I slowly sat down across from her. I took her left hand and held it in mine, brushing a sway lock of golden hair away from her face. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I could not get over how awful she looked sitting there, helpless.
Then it happened. Her little hand wrapped around mine tighter and fighter. Her voice began what sounded like a soft howl. She seemed to be crying in pain. And then, she spoke.
“Jessica.” Plain as day. My name. Mine. Out of 4 children, 2 son-in-laws, 1 daughter-in-law, and 6 grandchildren, she knew it was me.
At that moment, it was like someone was showing a family filmstrip in my head. I saw Nana at my baptizing. I saw her at my fourteen dance recitals. I saw her bringing me roses and beaming with pride. I saw her tap dancing on our kitchen floor. I saw her pointing at her own wrinkled cheeks and telling me that it was from her that I inherited my big dimples. I saw her playing games with us grandkids while the other adults ate Thanksgiving dinner. I saw her sitting with me in my living room at Christmas time admiring our brightly decorated tree. I then looked at her as she was...and I cried.
I knew she would never see my final senior dance recital. I knew she would never see me cheer for another football game. I knew she would never sit with me and admire our Christmas tree again. I knew she would never see me go off to my senior prom. I knew she would never see me graduate from high school or college or see me get married. And I knew she would never be there the day my first child was born. This made tear after tear roll down my face.
But above all, I cried because I finally knew how she had felt the day I had been born. She had looked through what she saw on the outside and looked to the inside and saw... a life.
I slowly released her hand from mine and brushed away the tears staining her cheeks, and mine. I stood, leaned over, kissed her, and said, “You look beautiful.”
我从来都不认为我很了解她。她好像一直离我很远。毫无疑问，我爱她。从我出生那天我们就分享这份爱。我带着一个扭曲的脑袋和一张丑陋的面容来到这个世界，这些只是因为母亲的难产。家人和朋友都皱着鼻子看着我这个丑小孩。他们都评论我像一个挨了打的足球队员。但是她不。祖母觉得我很漂亮。她看着怀里的这个丑小孩，眼睛里闪着幸福的光芒。她说她的第一个孙女“很美”。
在我高一期末考试前，祖母去世了。七年前，医生诊断她患了老年痴呆症。于是，我们的家人都成了这种病的专家，渐渐的，她离开了我们。
她只能断断续续地说话。几年后，她的话越来越少，到最后她一句话也说不出来了。我们很幸运能听到她偶尔的话语。之后家人都明白她就要走了。
祖母去世前大约一周，她全身僵硬，无法自理了。于是医生决定把她送到特护院。这个地方人一旦进去就永远不可能出来了。
我告诉父母我很想去看她。我一定要去。难以自控的好奇心超越了那令我胆战心惊的害怕。
两天后，妈妈把我带到了特护院。祖父和两个姑妈也在，但他们都在走廊里，我独自进了病房。她闭着眼睛，瘫坐在床边一个大的带绒毛的椅子上，嘴巴麻木地张着。她在吗啡的药力下睡着了。我用眼睛飞快地掠过病房的窗户、鲜花，还有奶奶的面孔。我拼命地要记住这里的一切，我明白这将是我最后一次看到她活着的样子了。
我慢慢地坐在她面前。我拿起她的左手，紧紧地握着，撩起她脸上的一缕金发。我想说什么，但却说不出来。看到她无助地坐着，我难以忍受这种凄凉。
就在那时，她消瘦的手紧紧地握住了我的手。她发出微弱的呻吟，仿佛是痛苦地想要哭泣。她说话了。
“杰西卡。”很清楚，是我的名字。她有四个孩子，两个女婿，一个儿媳妇，六个孙辈，她居然记得我。
当时我的脑海里就像是放一部家庭电影。我看到奶奶给我施洗礼；看到奶奶来我的舞蹈晚会；看到奶奶送我的玫瑰，带着愉快的骄傲；看到奶奶在厨房的地板上跳踢踏舞；看到奶奶指着自己布满皱纹的脸颊，还说我的酒窝是遗传她的；看到感恩节的宴会上大人们都在吃东西，奶奶却在和我们一起玩游戏；看到圣诞节时奶奶和我一起在客厅赞赏美丽的圣诞树。我看着此时的她，不禁泪流满面。
我知道她再也看不到我的毕业舞会了。我知道她再也看不到我为另一场足球赛做拉拉队了。我知道她再也不能跟我一起称赞圣诞树了。我知道她再也看不到我去参加高中毕业晚会了。我知道她再也看不到我中学、大学毕业，也看不到我结婚时的样子了。我知道她是不会出现在我第一个孩子降临的那天了。此时的我早已泣不成声。
但是最重要的是，我哭是因为我最终理解了我降临时她的感觉。她通过外表看到深处，看到了……生命。
我慢慢放开她的手，拭去我们脸颊上的泪水。我站着，俯下身子，吻她，说，“您真美！”
记忆填空
1. Family members and friends wrinkled their at the disfigured baby I was. They all commented on much I looked like a beat-up football player. But no, not . Nana thought I was . Her eyes twinkled with splendor and happiness at the baby in her arms.
2. She always in fragmented sentences. As the years , the words she spoke became fewer and , until finally she said nothing at all. We were lucky to get one occasional out of her. It was then our family knew she was the end.
佳句翻译
1. 我从来都不认为我很了解她。她好像一直离我很远。
2. 我想说什么，但却说不出来。看到她无助地坐着，我难以忍受这种凄凉。
3. 但是最重要的是，我哭是因为我最终理解了我降临时她的感觉。她通过外表看到深处，看到了……生命。
短语应用
1. I came into this world with a bashed head and deformed features because of the hard labor my mother had gone through.
go through：参加；经受；仔细检查；通过
2. But above all, I cried because I finally knew how she had felt the day I had been born.
above all：首先；尤其是