Good souls are a comfort in the world
Growing up with my parents, there was a revolving door of house guests. Not really sure why.
I’m guessing it’s partly because my parents were immigrants and probably couch-surfed for a while when they first came here and remembered what that was like. Or maybe because sometimes people are just nice for no reason.
A brother and sister stayed with us a while, apparently. I don’t remember them well – as I said, revolving door. For years afterward, their parents would send us a huge box of walnuts once a year from their backyard. Then they moved, ergo, no more walnut tree, ergo, no more boxes.
But I still called them the Walnut family.
In any case, went home to see the rents yesterday. Was a spur-of-the-moment type of thing because my mom took the day off from work and a project I had finished up early.
When I got there, my mom said it was the Moon Festival this week and showed me a cake she got from the Walnut family.
She hadn’t heard from them in years and immediately rang them to thank them. It was then she heard that the mother had just died. Breast cancer.
F____ breast cancer.
The father said that one of the last things the mother said was, Send the Lo’s a cake this year. They were so nice to the kids.
Then my mother started to cry.
Her: I wish I knew. I would have done something for her.
Me: You were nice to her kids. That’s a lot. After all these years, she remembered it. So I think that’s a comfort, knowing that there are good souls in the world.
Her: She was a nice woman. And now (the husband’s) he’s by himself. It’s so unfair.
Me: (patting her on the shoulder) It really is.