A gift of love

“Can I see my baby?” the happy new mother asked.

When the bundle (襁褓) was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look at his tiny face, she suddenly breathed deeply. The doctor turned quickly and looked out of the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears.

Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was spoiled. When her son rushed home from school one day and threw himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.

He cried out the tragedy, “A boy, a big boy…called me a freak (怪物).”

He grew up, handsome except for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a talent for literature and music.

“But you might look the same as other young people, ” his mother whispered to herself, feeling a kindness in her heart.

The boy's father had a talk with the family physician. “Could nothing be done？”

“I believe I could graft (移植)on a pair of outer ears, if they could be obtained,” the doctor decided. So the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for the young man.

Two years passed through. Then, “You're going to the hospital, son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a secret,” said the father.

The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs.

Later he married and entered the diplomatic service.

The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come.

I love my family and I will remember the happy day forever!

My mum died on a cold and rainy December morning. The dark clouds and constant light rain over her Cape Cod neighbourhood fit our sadness as my brothers and sisters and I arranged with the local funeral (葬礼) home for Mum’s last departure from her beloved house on the edge of the river.

All five of us were there, having been alerted (警觉) earlier that week. As soon as we had gotten “The Call”, we had immediately flown or driven from our homes in California, Florida, Georgia and New York to the house by the river.

As I joined my brothers and sisters at the house on the Cape, I felt oddly peaceful. Though I was afraid to lose my mother, I wasn’t anxious about the process. I knew that Mum had prepared well for her death. All we had to do was be present for her and each other during this final stage. She had done everything else.

Mum was a born teacher and a natural organizer. When she had received the diagnosis (诊断) of incurable cancer that September, she had planned her death as practically as she had planned her busy life as a wife, mother and professional.

Mum did think fondly of her neighbours and friends. Even though she had declined to share her remaining time with them, she wanted to acknowledge their friendly care and express her lasting affection for them. So Mum had asked my older sister to purchase, on her behalf, a case of wine. The small bottles were to be decorated with ribbons (缎带) and delivered by us in person, after Mum’s death, to those neighbours who had been her favourite local companions.

Accordingly, in the early afternoon, as the cold morning rain gave way to a watery blue sky, all five of us set out to walk through the neighbourhood together, braving the cold air. Taking turns carrying the heavy boxes, we visited every house. Together, we carried the news of her death, that final gift of beribboned bottles, and her instruction to her friends: “Please use this Champagne to toast to our friendship.”

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We hugged, and cried, and laughed, with neighbour after neighbour.

As the five of us returned to the house, we saw, against the backdrop of the grey sky, a breathtakingly beautiful rainbow.