Saving Fish from Drowning - Heal Burma

AMY TAN
I put down my cousin’s letter and unwrapped those souvenirs. And
right away I saw it. It was a haircomb with a hundred tiny jade leaves,
and peony blossoms in the form of diamonds. Sweet Ma had stolen
this from me. I had stolen it from her, and Gatekeeper Luo had
stolen it as well.
Here it was in my hands again, my true mother’s haircomb—yes,
a haircomb and not a hairpin, as I had mistakenly remembered it.
The haircomb and I were the two things remaining that had be­
longed to my mother.
I rubbed my mother’s haircomb against my cheek and pressed it
near my heart. I rocked it as one might a baby. For the first time, I felt
the emptiness of her loss replaced with the fullness of her love. I was
about to burst with joy. And then my knees grew weak. They wob­
bled and grew rubbery. I felt a softening wave and I tried to push it
away. But then I recognized what this was, me holding back my feel­
ings so I wouldn’t fall. Why should I not feel it? Why have I denied
myself the beauty of love? And so I did not stop myself. I let joy and
love and sorrow wash over me. And with that haircomb close to my
heart, I plummeted off the stool.
When I died, I thought that was the end. But it was not. When my
friends were found, I thought that would be the end. But it was not.
And when forty-nine days had passed, I thought I would instantly be
gone, as some Buddhists think a person will. But here I am. That is
the nature of endings, it seems. They never end. When all the miss­
ing pieces of your life are found, put together with the glue of mem­
ory and reason, there are more pieces to be found.
But I won’t stay much longer. I now know what’s beyond here. My
friends once had a glimpse of it. It was in the breath that lifted a hun­
dred emerald beetles. It was in the echoes that followed each beat of
the drum. It was in the absolute stillness when all minds were one. I
can’t say more than that, for it should remain a mystery, one that
never ends.
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