Should Have, Would Have, Could Have

i.
I gaped at the piece of paper, my shaking hands almost ripping the nine-year-old edges.
Its robin blue letters mocked me.

Look, Ying... look at the pretty picture you made nine years ago. This card traveled halfway across the world... it's stayed here in China longer than you ever have; I bet it loves your grandparents more than you do.

...i couldn't stop shaking...

Don't cry, don't cry don'tcry she NEEDS YOU to be strong for her Don't you DARE be selfish andcry--



ii.
The last time I did, my grandma cried as well.

Not "grandma". I call her Wàipó. It means "grandmother from the mother's side"... it's not "way po". It's "why pwa~oh". The "why" curves down. The "pwa~ah" curves up.

Wàipó was drowning in striped hospital sheets when I first saw her. The hospital smelled peaceful, which frightened me to no end. Hospitals were supposed to smell like cleaning agents and tragedies. Weren't they? We passed exhausted elevators and broken people before arriving on the 8th floor.

"She had been terrible to herself for the past three years, both pulling all-nighters and sleeping in for days." Damn it. Why the hell did no one tell us? Forget about the family of four in America...

I hadn't seen her in years. The time had been merciless, etching new hills and valleys into her skin, brittling her bones. She was an ashen angel, gray hair pillowing around her like a wispy halo as she slept. She had tubes everywhere; she couldn't speak.
Words stirred in me.
     They    treatened   to  burst from my mouth anderupt but when she woke up, they vanished. Wàipó looked so happy to see me. All I could manage in Chinese was

"I've grown taller...get better soon... rest well... do as the doctor says."

"I love you."

...and I made you cry when I left.

Pathetic, Ying.



iii.
when i was little you taught me how the sun and the earth
make night and day by using a flashlight and an inflatable globe to teach
i think i distinctly remember your form looming over the globe
as you pointed the flashlight and narrated what happened.

your hair was still black and it
fell in pieces like a curtain over your face.

i think i also remember playing with rice and spilling it all over the coffee table we had.
we laughed and had good fun but then auntie was about to come home
and she was sure to have a fit if she saw the utter mess i made of the rice
so i had the brilliant idea to hide the rice under the table
but that didn't work.

oh but waipo please forgive me because these are the only memories i can even half recall. my 3 year old mind is not what it used to be.

and even then i may have invented these two with wishful thinking in front of my picture album. i know you old folks love to reminisce but i can only sit there and nod and pretend i know.

i'm so sorry.



iv.
Wàipó wanted white sugar. But she still had a tube in her throat and they were afraid to give her any. "I'm telling you," my aunt said, "she did this to herself. She's too stubborn."

She refused to eat medicine or food. She even refused to drink water.
I wanted to scream and rage at her.
Why would you do this to yourself? You're hurting US too! Just do what the doctor says and you'll get better!
Pleasepleaseplease I'm begging you.

But then what right had I? She just shook her hand, pushing away anything offered to her mouth. In the end, my aunt managed to feed her a coconut-flavored bread softened in water because it was just sweet enough for her taste.

On that trip, I bought a scrapbook I had made in 8th grade. I felt like a fake.
Why didn't I send it four years ago, right after I made it?

I couldn't help but think, I'm too guilty. And it's too late.



v.
Pardon, it wasn't Robin Blue. It was Robin Egg Blue... but I always thought the color wasn't rich enough to be. The letters spelled out, "You're Invited! Come to my school play this Tuesday April 12th!" I had drawn a half crayon rainbow and smiling red stick man. On the back, scrawled inside a crooked red heart, it said "I love you Mom & Dad"

Guilt washed in restless waves over me. How old was I when I wrote this? Eight? Nine? How many other letters had my parents sent on behalf of my unwitting self? How many letters did I send to my grandparents?

I only knew the answer to the last question, and I was ashamed. How many did I send?

None.



vi.
That card should have been addressed to my grandparents.. I should have written a hundred I-Love-You's. I would have drawn a thousand hearts. If I was more comfortable with Chinese, I would have sent a letter ever week, telling them everything about my life. That way, I could have already told you all the things I need to tell you.

and what about my other grandparents? Do they know I love them too?
Foolish girl, that's not a question.
Oh, I know, I know!
but what if they don't know?