Happy 99th birthday Ah Ma !

Today, it’s my grandma Ah Ma’s birthday. She would have been 99 years old.

Since I moved to France, I used to go back to Hong Kong to see my family at least once a year, often during summer break. The global pandemic in 2020 broke this habit, and by March 2023, when I suddenly felt the urge to spend just five days in Hong Kong, it had been three and a half years since I had last seen my Ah Ma.

I have always loved and admired my dear Ah Ma, an incredibly brave woman born in the deepest poverty in a small village in mainland China, who decided to go to Hong Kong alone in order to earn enough money to buy a pullover to keep herself warm during the winters. Despite enduring the worst humiliations in harsh labor jobs, she successfully raised her three children alone, including my father, while her husband—my grandfather, whom I have never met—was sick in the hospital for more than ten years before he passed away. The only time I saw my grandma cry was at the bedside of my aunt Ann, her daughter, when she died in 2012.

Ah Ma raised my sister and me, taking care of us when our parents were at work. For years—almost until the end of her life—she prepared delicious meals for the entire family. I loved talking to her and listening to her stories; she would tell me about the hardships she faced while working in Hong Kong and how, as farmers, she and her family grew different crops when she was a child in her Chinese village. Her words carried a striking wisdom, and I shaped much of who I am today thanks to her values. That’s why, ever since my first blog (Chun Wing’s Personal Blog), I have placed her words on the front page.

My Paris Opera schedule unexpectedly revealed a five-day break in March 2023—why not go back to Hong Kong? I did, and it turned out to be a significant decision. Seeing my family and Ah Ma again after such a long time was deeply moving. At 96 years old, she no longer had the strength to cook for the family, but she remained faithful to her rituals. I asked her more questions, and we had deeper conversations about her past. Just before I had to fly back to France, Ah Ma went to the hospital.

With my suitcases in hand, I rushed to the hospital, knowing I had only a few hours before my flight back to Paris. It was 7:45 PM, and I had just 15 more minutes with Ah Ma in the End of Life Room. What could I say?
– “I miss you so much, Ah Ma.”
– “No need to miss me. Hurry up and go have fun around the world!” (快啲去周圍玩啦！)

Her last piece of advice that I received as a gift of a life she gave me after the one she had lived. Before I left, I made a promise:
– Grandma, one day, I will write a book about you.

Happy Birthday Ah Ma.