My aunt is hosting a young guest, a six-year-old terminally ill boy. Sadness creeps into my heart when I think that he won't be able to grow up like our boys. This noon Meiyen mentioned the topic of seeing our family tortured by disease. She feels very tiny when faced with illness and death. I replied, "Yes, but meanwhile we should feel lucky about having the ability to take care of others."
In our art class today, Von shared his first day at school. He greeted his new classmates, but some didn't say hello back. I was afraid his fragile heart was bruised, but he took it in stride, saying, "But some did talk to me." We are not brainless idiots fully of passion. We happen to be the brave ones who warm up to others first. Seeing him so mature, I couldn't help feeling proud of him.
Kai, who is very good at sweet talk, drew and murmured, "Auntie Wanda, I am going home tomorrow. I will miss you. I really really love you." Though I was moved, I pretended to be detached and teased him, "There are so many people you love. Name them." He did end up reciting the names of our big family. Since Dad was sitting next to us, I whispered in Kai's ear, "Say you love your god granddad." Kai didn't feel shy about expressing his feeling at all, and after that, he went on to please his god grandma.
It was at that moment that I saw the answer.
I then asked Kai if he loves the little boy and his mom. He said, "I do!" It occurred to me to make some cards and ask the delivery boy Kai for help. I emphasized, "You have to say 'I love you!' when you give them the cards. This is your idea. Auntie Wanda just carried out it for you." Kai, the most adorable boy I have ever seen, ran home with the cards shouting, "I-love-you cards are coming!"
Even though I am just a stranger, I still feel like offering a warm hug when witnessing others' misery. I know we can never win in the race against life, so why not say "I love you!" loudly, sentimentally, or thankfully? At least we will see a small glow of light in the dark valley of sadness, knowing that we are not alone.
This is the lesson a three-year-old boy taught me.