The Oldest Person I know

My first real home in Canada was a quiet apartment building nestled in the centre of Richmond. Richmond, at that time was a somewhat Caucasian dominant place, and I remember being the only Asian family living in our building. This was a difficult situation, especially for a new immigrant family fresh off the plane. Our lives proved to be harder once we met our neighbours. I remember the grouchy, old “cat lady” who lived across from us and tried to use every single opportunity to report us to the manager. My constant tantrums made the perfect complaint. Our rocky relationship became strained to the point that we were in danger of being kicked out. The first few months in our new home were spent miserably and inconspicuously. All our hopes of a wonderful new life in this promising country disappeared. That is until we met a very special person that completely turned our lives around.

My mom and I were up early that one day and we decided to do the laundry. Washing was done in a laundry room that everyone in the building shared. We were quietly walking down to the basement careful to not make too much noise, when we heard the clearest and happiest laugh ever. The sound made you feel warm all over and had a contagious effect where you just had to smile after hearing it. We hastily hurried down the stairs to see where the sound was coming from. When we swung open the door, we were in for a big shock. The source of the beautiful sound was from an old, fragile lady. Her legs and all ten fingers were distorted and she wore a cast around her neck. Her back was hunched and her face was filled with wrinkles. However, when she smiled, her whole face lit up and she seemed like the most living and youthful person on Earth. We started a conversation in which we learned that we lived in the same hall. She was not at all like our other neighbours and it felt good to be finally respected in such a cold and unwelcoming environment. When the washing was done, my mom carried her laundry and I helped her up the stairs. When we got to her door, she invited us to come in. Little did we know then, but this would be the first step to a beautiful friendship.

When we walked into her unit, our reaction was that of utter dismay. Every single surface sparkled and shone and everything was neat and orderly. I was especially drawn to the bookshelf by the doorway. There were at least ten volumes of every kind of encyclopedia. Their spines were frayed, evidence of frequent use and handling. There was a smell of freshly brewed coffee mixed with cinnamon and apricots. Plants and flowers of every kind were lined up in an attractive pattern across her balcony. She warmly ushered us into her bright and sunny kitchen where she poured us a cup of tea. While we sipped our drinks, we started to learn more about each other. We learned that she had a bad case of arthritis and was almost always in pain. She had difficulty walking and sometimes even sleeping.  This was not expected, since she seemed like such a joyful person. Her four children, which should have brought her joy, brought instead more pain and heartbreak. Her youngest and only son had graduated from a prestigious university, only to have died eight months later under the influence of drugs. Because of this incident, her eldest daughter broke all relations with her and disappeared without a trace. Her youngest daughter was diagnosed with diabetes and passed away after several failed marriages. Her last daughter became an alcohol addict and constantly relied on her for support. When we left that day, we were filled with admiration-a person with so many regrets and afflictions could still manage to live life so fully and jubilantly. 

After that day, my mom and I visited her whenever we were free. After every visit, we would take in something new. She once told us that her life was a lot like a salmon’s; she would foolishly attempt again and again to achieve a seemingly impossible goal and would not stop until she finished it to the end. This determination was what made her so inspiring. She was always cheerful and optimistic even when she was in a lot of pain. Wherever she went, she would bring happiness with her and I would always feel energized after being with her. Although physically she might be the oldest and weakest person I know, spiritually and mentally, she is the youngest and strongest person I will ever meet.