I can honestly say it was the best of times and the worst of times. I was joyfully expecting my first child， at the same time that my once-energetic， zestful mother was losing her battle with a brain tumor.
For ten years， my fiercely independent and courageous mother had fought， but none of the surgeries or treatments had been successful. Still， she never lost her ability to smile. But now， finally， at only fifty-five， she became totally disabled—unable to speak， walk， eat or dress on her own.
As she grew closer and closer to death， my baby grew closer and closer to life inside me. My biggest fear was that their lives would never connect. I grieved not only for the upcoming loss of my mother， but also that she and my baby would never know each other.
My fear seemed well-founded. A few weeks before my due date， mother lapsed into a deep coma. Her doctors did not hold any hope. They told us her time was up. It was useless to put in a feeding tube， they said. She would never awaken.
We brought mother home to her own bed in her own house， and we insisted on care to keep her comfortable. As often as I could， I sat beside her and talked to her about the baby moving inside me. I hoped that somehow deep inside， she knew.
On February 3， 1989， at about the same time my labor started， mother opened her eyes. When they told me this at the hospital， I called her home and asked for the phone to be put to mom' s ear.
"Mom—Mom—listen. The baby is coming！ You' re going to have a new grandchild. Do you understand？"
"Yes！"
What a wonderful word！The first clear word she' d spoken in months！
When I called again an hour later， the nurse at her house told me the impossible： Mom was sitting up， her oxygen tubes removed. She was smiling！
"Mom， it' s a boy！You have a new grandson！"
"Yes！Yes！I know！"
Four words. Four beautiful words.
By the time I brought Jacob home， Mom was sitting in her chair， dressed and ready to welcome him. Tears of joy blocked my vision as I laid my son in her arms and she clucked at him. They stared at each other.
They knew.
For two more weeks， mother clucked， smiled and held Jacob. For two weeks she spoke to my father， her children and grandchildren in complete sentences. For two miracle weeks， she gave us joy.
Then she quietly slipped back into a coma and， after the visits from all her children， was finally free of the pains and confines of a body that no longer did her will.
Memories of my son' s birth will always be bittersweet for me， but it was at this time that I learned an important truth about living. For while both joy and sorrow are fleeting， and often intertwined， love has the power to overcome both. And love can last forever.
老實說，我最幸福也是最悲慘的時刻到了——在我欣喜地期待著我第一個孩子降生的同時，往日精力充沛、熱情開朗的母親卻在與腦腫瘤病魔的鬥爭中逐漸失利。
10年來，母親以驚人的毅力獨自與病魔抗爭，雖然手術和藥物治療都沒能獲得成功，但她從未因此失去笑容。如今，年僅55歲的她最終全身癱瘓——不能說話，不能走路，連吃飯、穿衣都不能自理。
正當死神日益逼近她時，我體內的孩子快要出世了，最令我擔心的是他們沒有相見的機緣。我悲慟，不僅因為將要失去母親，還因為她和我的孩子將永遠無法相識。
我並非杞人憂天。就在距預產期隻剩幾周的時候，母親陷入了深度昏迷狀態。醫生們也無能為力，他們說母親的時間耗盡了。還說，沒必要再輸液了，她是不會醒的。
我們把母親接回家，讓她躺在自己的**。為了能讓她感覺舒服，我們堅持要照料她。隻要有空，我就坐在她身邊，向她匯報我體內孩子的動靜，我希望她能在冥冥之中聽得到。
1989年2月3日那天，幾乎在我分娩的同時，母親睜開了眼睛。在醫院裏，當他們把這一切告訴我時，我立即往家打電話找她，讓家人把電話遞到她耳邊。
“媽媽——媽媽——聽我說，孩子就要出生了！您就要添一個外孫了，您知道嗎？”
“知道！”
多麽動聽的聲音啊！這是數月來從她嘴裏吐出的第一個清晰的詞。
一個小時後我再打電話給她時，她的護士告訴我出現了奇跡：媽媽竟然拔掉了輸氧管，在**坐了起來，還微笑著！
“媽媽，是男孩！您添了一個外孫！”
“好！好！我知道！”
五個字，五個美麗的字。
我帶雅各布回家時，媽媽穿得整整齊齊地坐在靠背椅上，一切準備就緒，就等小外孫的到來了。我把兒子放進她懷裏，她呼喚著他，他們彼此凝望著。那一刻，幸福的淚水模糊了我的雙眼。
就這樣，祖孫倆終於能相見相擁了。
足足兩個多星期，母親咯咯地笑著，抱著雅各布，她能對我的父親、她的孩子們、孫子們完整吐詞了。她在這奇跡般的兩個星期中，把快樂傳遞給了我們。
之後不久，她又安靜地陷入昏迷狀態。在見過所有的孩子後，她最終擺脫了痛苦和不聽使喚的軀體的束縛。
回想起兒子的出生，我總有辛酸且甜蜜的感覺，正是那時我悟出了生活中一條重要的真諦：快樂與悲傷並存，且總會糾結在一起；愛的力量足以D 調二者。愛能持續到永遠。
珍貴的遺物
A Thousand Times
羅恩·菲利普·戈爾德 / Karon Philips Goodman
I was only seventeen when grandma Elsie died. She was my last living grandparent and I was her only grandchild. Until the lawyer read her will， I never fully appreciated the depth of the old lady' s love. It was a moment I will never forget—a day that made me the richest kid in town.
Mom， Dad， Aunt Sophie， Uncle Bill and I sat around a small conference table in her attorney' s office. She wanted her daughters and their husbands to share what little monetary wealth she left—the proceeds of her small insurance policy， an antique cameo， a few bracelets， some costume jewelry and her wedding band. She also bequeathed them the deed to her house， her bank account， a few shares of stock in the local Gas and Electric Company， as well as the American flag she was presented with at Grandpa Edwin' s military funeral.
As we rose to leave， the attorney said， "there are three more things." He reached into his briefcase and brought out a small jewelry box， a letter， and a stack of envelopes neatly wrapped in tissue paper and tied with a fading pink ribbon. "Jeffrey， your Grandmother left you her diamond engagement ring， hoping you' ll make good use of it soon." Everyone smiled.
"These are also for you， Jeffrey， " he said. "It may be the most precious legacy of all—a letter and this stack of love notes."
Grandma' s letter began， "Dear Jeffrey， I am leaving you one of my most precious treasures—my memories. These memories are the letters your Grandfather Edwin wrote when he was away from me. Please read them. They are both priceless and valuable—a guidebook that will teach you how to love a woman， how to understand people， and how to respect and maintain your integrity.