I can honestly say it was the best of times and the worst of times. I was joyfully expecting my first child, at the same time that my once-energetic, zestful mother was losing her battle with a brain tumor.
For ten years, my fiercely independent and courageous mother had fought, but none of the surgeries or treatments had been successful. Still, she never lost her ability to smile. But now, finally, at only fifty-five, she became totally disabled—unable to speak, walk, eat or dress on her own.
As she grew closer and closer to death, my baby grew closer and closer to life inside me. My biggest fear was that their lives would never connect. I grieved not only for the upcoming loss of my mother, but also that she and my baby would never know each other.
My fear seemed well-founded. A few weeks before my due date, mother lapsed into a deep coma. Her doctors did not hold any hope. They told us her time was up. It was useless to put in a feeding tube, they said. She would never awaken.
We brought mother home to her own bed in her own house, and we insisted on care to keep her comfortable. As often as I could, I sat beside her and talked to her about the baby moving inside me. I hoped that somehow deep inside, she knew.
On February 3, 1989, at about the same time my labor started, mother opened her eyes. When they told me this at the hospital, I called her home and asked for the phone to be put to mom' s ear.
"Mom—Mom—listen. The baby is coming! You' re going to have a new grandchild. Do you understand?"
"Yes!"
What a wonderful word!The first clear word she' d spoken in months!
When I called again an hour later, the nurse at her house told me the impossible: Mom was sitting up, her oxygen tubes removed. She was smiling!
"Mom, it' s a boy!You have a new grandson!"
"Yes!Yes!I know!"
Four words. Four beautiful words.
By the time I brought Jacob home, Mom was sitting in her chair, dressed and ready to welcome him. Tears of joy blocked my vision as I laid my son in her arms and she clucked at him. They stared at each other.
They knew.
For two more weeks, mother clucked, smiled and held Jacob. For two weeks she spoke to my father, her children and grandchildren in complete sentences. For two miracle weeks, she gave us joy.
Then she quietly slipped back into a coma and, after the visits from all her children, was finally free of the pains and confines of a body that no longer did her will.
Memories of my son' s birth will always be bittersweet for me, but it was at this time that I learned an important truth about living. For while both joy and sorrow are fleeting, and often intertwined, love has the power to overcome both. And love can last forever.
老实说，我最幸福也是最悲惨的时刻到了——在我欣喜地期待着我第一个孩子降生的同时，往日精力充沛、热情开朗的母亲却在与脑肿瘤病魔的斗争中逐渐失利。
10年来，母亲以惊人的毅力独自与病魔抗争，虽然手术和药物治疗都没能获得成功，但她从未因此失去笑容。如今，年仅55岁的她最终全身瘫痪——不能说话，不能走路，连吃饭、穿衣都不能自理。
正当死神日益逼近她时，我体内的孩子快要出世了，最令我担心的是他们没有相见的机缘。我悲恸，不仅因为将要失去母亲，还因为她和我的孩子将永远无法相识。
我并非杞人忧天。就在距预产期只剩几周的时候，母亲陷入了深度昏迷状态。医生们也无能为力，他们说母亲的时间耗尽了。还说，没必要再输液了，她是不会醒的。
我们把母亲接回家，让她躺在自己的床上。为了能让她感觉舒服，我们坚持要照料她。只要有空，我就坐在她身边，向她汇报我体内孩子的动静，我希望她能在冥冥之中听得到。
1989年2月3日那天，几乎在我分娩的同时，母亲睁开了眼睛。在医院里，当他们把这一切告诉我时，我立即往家打电话找她，让家人把电话递到她耳边。
“妈妈——妈妈——听我说，孩子就要出生了！您就要添一个外孙了，您知道吗？”
“知道！”
多么动听的声音啊!这是数月来从她嘴里吐出的第一个清晰的词。
一个小时后我再打电话给她时，她的护士告诉我出现了奇迹：妈妈竟然拔掉了输氧管，在床上坐了起来，还微笑着！
“妈妈，是男孩!您添了一个外孙！”
“好！好！我知道！”
五个字，五个美丽的字。
我带雅各布回家时，妈妈穿得整整齐齐地坐在靠背椅上，一切准备就绪，就等小外孙的到来了。我把儿子放进她怀里，她呼唤着他，他们彼此凝望着。那一刻，幸福的泪水模糊了我的双眼。
就这样，祖孙俩终于能相见相拥了。
足足两个多星期，母亲咯咯地笑着，抱着雅各布，她能对我的父亲、她的孩子们、孙子们完整吐词了。她在这奇迹般的两个星期中，把快乐传递给了我们。
之后不久，她又安静地陷入昏迷状态。在见过所有的孩子后，她最终摆脱了痛苦和不听使唤的躯体的束缚。
回想起儿子的出生，我总有辛酸且甜蜜的感觉，正是那时我悟出了生活中一条重要的真谛：快乐与悲伤并存，且总会纠结在一起；爱的力量足以D调二者。爱能持续到永远。
珍贵的遗物
A Thousand Times
罗恩·菲利普·戈尔德 / Karon Philips Goodman
I was only seventeen when grandma Elsie died. She was my last living grandparent and I was her only grandchild. Until the lawyer read her will, I never fully appreciated the depth of the old lady' s love. It was a moment I will never forget—a day that made me the richest kid in town.
Mom, Dad, Aunt Sophie, Uncle Bill and I sat around a small conference table in her attorney' s office. She wanted her daughters and their husbands to share what little monetary wealth she left—the proceeds of her small insurance policy, an antique cameo, a few bracelets, some costume jewelry and her wedding band. She also bequeathed them the deed to her house, her bank account, a few shares of stock in the local Gas and Electric Company, as well as the American flag she was presented with at Grandpa Edwin' s military funeral.
As we rose to leave, the attorney said, "there are three more things." He reached into his briefcase and brought out a small jewelry box, a letter, and a stack of envelopes neatly wrapped in tissue paper and tied with a fading pink ribbon. "Jeffrey, your Grandmother left you her diamond engagement ring, hoping you' ll make good use of it soon." Everyone smiled.
"These are also for you, Jeffrey, " he said. "It may be the most precious legacy of all—a letter and this stack of love notes."
Grandma' s letter began, "Dear Jeffrey, I am leaving you one of my most precious treasures—my memories. These memories are the letters your Grandfather Edwin wrote when he was away from me. Please read them. They are both priceless and valuable—a guidebook that will teach you how to love a woman, how to understand people, and how to respect and maintain your integrity.