“Beautiful” She Said

佚名 / Anonymous

I never thought that I understood her. She always seemed so far away from me. I loved her， of course. We shared mutual love from the day I was born. I came into this world with a bashed head and deformed features because of the hard labor my mother had gone through. Family members and friends wrinkled their noses at the disfigured baby I was. They all commented on how much I looked like a beat-up football player. But no， not her. Nana thought I was beautiful. Her eyes twinkled with splendor and happiness at the ugly baby in her arms. Her first granddaughter. “Beautiful.” She said.

Before final exams in my junior year of high school， she died. Seven years ago， her doctors diagnosed Nana with Alzheimer’s disease. Seven years ago， our family became experts on this disease as， slowly， we lost her.

She always spoke in fragmented sentences. As the years passed， the words she spoke became fewer and fewer， until finally she said nothing at all. We were lucky to get one occasional word out of her. It was then our family knew she was near the end.

About a week or so before she died， she lost the abilities for her body to function at all， and the doctors decided to move her to a hospice. A hospice where those who entered would never come out.

I told my parents I wanted to see her. I had to see her. My uncontrollable curiosity had taken a step above my gut-wrenching fear.

My mother brought me to the hospice two days after my request. My grandfather and two of my aunts were there as well， but all hung back in the hallway as I entered Nana’s room. She was sitting in a big， fluffy chair next to her bed， slouched over， eyes shut， mouth numbly hanging open. The morphine was keeping her asleep. My eyes darted around the room at the windows， the flowers， and the way Nana looked. I was struggling very hard to take it all in， knowing that this would be the last time I ever saw her alive.

I slowly sat down across from her. I took her left hand and held it in mine， brushing a sway lock of golden hair away from her face. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I could not get over how awful she looked sitting there， helpless.

Then it happened. Her little hand wrapped around mine tighter and fighter. Her voice began what sounded like a soft howl. She seemed to be crying in pain. And then， she spoke.

“Jessica.” Plain as day. My name. Mine. Out of 4 children， 2 son-in-laws， 1 daughter-in-law， and 6 grandchildren， she knew it was me.

At that moment， it was like someone was showing a family filmstrip in my head. I saw Nana at my baptizing. I saw her at my fourteen dance recitals. I saw her bringing me roses and beaming with pride. I saw her tap dancing on our kitchen floor. I saw her pointing at her own wrinkled cheeks and telling me that it was from her that I inherited my big dimples. I saw her playing games with us grandkids while the other adults ate Thanksgiving dinner. I saw her sitting with me in my living room at Christmas time admiring our brightly decorated tree. I then looked at her as she was...and I cried.

I knew she would never see my final senior dance recital. I knew she would never see me cheer for another football game. I knew she would never sit with me and admire our Christmas tree again. I knew she would never see me go off to my senior prom. I knew she would never see me graduate from high school or college or see me get married. And I knew she would never be there the day my first child was born. This made tear after tear roll down my face.

But above all， I cried because I finally knew how she had felt the day I had been born. She had looked through what she saw on the outside and looked to the inside and saw... a life.

I slowly released her hand from mine and brushed away the tears staining her cheeks， and mine. I stood， leaned over， kissed her， and said， “You look beautiful.”

我從來都不認為我很了解她。她好像一直離我很遠。毫無疑問，我愛她。從我出生那天我們就分享這份愛。我帶著一個扭曲的腦袋和一張丑陋的面容來到這個世界，這些只是因為母親的難產。家人和朋友都皺著鼻子看著我這個丑小孩。他們都評論我像一個挨了打的足球隊員。但是她不。祖母覺得我很漂亮。她看著懷里的這個丑小孩，眼睛里閃著幸福的光芒。她說她的第一個孫女“很美”。

在我高一期末考試前，祖母去世了。七年前，醫生診斷她患了老年癡呆癥。于是，我們的家人都成了這種病的專家，漸漸的，她離開了我們。

她只能斷斷續續地說話。幾年后，她的話越來越少，到最后她一句話也說不出來了。我們很幸運能聽到她偶爾的話語。之后家人都明白她就要走了。

祖母去世前大約一周，她全身僵硬，無法自理了。于是醫生決定把她送到特護院。這個地方人一旦進去就永遠不可能出來了。

我告訴父母我很想去看她。我一定要去。難以自控的好奇心超越了那令我膽戰心驚的害怕。

兩天后，媽媽把我帶到了特護院。祖父和兩個姑媽也在，但他們都在走廊里，我獨自進了病房。她閉著眼睛，癱坐在床邊一個大的帶絨毛的椅子上，嘴巴麻木地張著。她在嗎啡的藥力下睡著了。我用眼睛飛快地掠過病房的窗戶、鮮花，還有奶奶的面孔。我拼命地要記住這里的一切，我明白這將是我最后一次看到她活著的樣子了。

我慢慢地坐在她面前。我拿起她的左手，緊緊地握著，撩起她臉上的一縷金發。我想說什么，但卻說不出來。看到她無助地坐著，我難以忍受這種凄涼。

就在那時，她消瘦的手緊緊地握住了我的手。她發出微弱的呻吟，仿佛是痛苦地想要哭泣。她說話了。

“杰西卡。”很清楚，是我的名字。她有四個孩子，兩個女婿，一個兒媳婦，六個孫輩，她居然記得我。

當時我的腦海里就像是放一部家庭電影。我看到奶奶給我施洗禮；看到奶奶來我的舞蹈晚會；看到奶奶送我的玫瑰，帶著愉快的驕傲；看到奶奶在廚房的地板上跳踢踏舞；看到奶奶指著自己布滿皺紋的臉頰，還說我的酒窩是遺傳她的；看到感恩節的宴會上大人們都在吃東西，奶奶卻在和我們一起玩游戲；看到圣誕節時奶奶和我一起在客廳贊賞美麗的圣誕樹。我看著此時的她，不禁淚流滿面。

我知道她再也看不到我的畢業舞會了。我知道她再也看不到我為另一場足球賽做拉拉隊了。我知道她再也不能跟我一起稱贊圣誕樹了。我知道她再也看不到我去參加高中畢業晚會了。我知道她再也看不到我中學、大學畢業，也看不到我結婚時的樣子了。我知道她是不會出現在我第一個孩子降臨的那天了。此時的我早已泣不成聲。

但是最重要的是，我哭是因為我最終理解了我降臨時她的感覺。她通過外表看到深處，看到了……生命。

我慢慢放開她的手，拭去我們臉頰上的淚水。我站著，俯下身子，吻她，說，“您真美！”

記憶填空

1. Family members and friends wrinkled their at the disfigured baby I was. They all commented on much I looked like a beat-up football player. But no， not . Nana thought I was . Her eyes twinkled with splendor and happiness at the baby in her arms.

2. She always in fragmented sentences. As the years ， the words she spoke became fewer and ， until finally she said nothing at all. We were lucky to get one occasional out of her. It was then our family knew she was the end.

佳句翻譯

1. 我從來都不認為我很了解她。她好像一直離我很遠。

2. 我想說什么，但卻說不出來。看到她無助地坐著，我難以忍受這種凄涼。

3. 但是最重要的是，我哭是因為我最終理解了我降臨時她的感覺。她通過外表看到深處，看到了……生命。

短語應用

1. I came into this world with a bashed head and deformed features because of the hard labor my mother had gone through.

go through：參加；經受；仔細檢查；通過

2. But above all， I cried because I finally knew how she had felt the day I had been born.

above all：首先；尤其是