The Surviving Bird
San Mao

Over a year ago, the Book Enthusiast magazine asked me to write an article in answer to the question, “What would you do suppose you were to live for only 30 more days from now?”

So far I still haven’t set pen to paper.

Hexi, learning of it from me, asked with curiosity, “What would you do?”

I was then kneading dough. Raising my hand caked with white flour to caress his hair with tenderness, I said unhurriedly, “O silly, I’m not going to die, I have to live on to make jiaozi for you!”

Later when we again mentioned the article I was supposed to write at the request of the magazine, I still took a simple and resolute stand. “I’ll keep watching over the house,” said I. “A person responsibility for a home has no right to die at all.”

Although I know my favourite way to end this life is by death, I still don’t want to die. Three persons in this world have their fate so closely tied up with my life and death. They are my parents and Hexi. I refuse to die as long as they’re alive. Not even a god can take me away when I say no.

The loss of their beloved daughter would deprive my ageing parents of their life-long happiness and consolation. It would be cruel and unfair for them to suffer the crushing blow.

If Hexi should lose his beloved wife, with whom he had been living for interdependence, what an emotional trauma he would undergo! And what bitterness would be deeply engraved in his mind! The thought of the complete vanishing of smiles from his face during the rest of his life as a result of his bereavement made me all the more determined against my death.

I cannot bear to think of the great adversity to be brought on my parents and husband by my death. No, I can’t, absolutely can’t.

Yes, those who leave first are happier than those left behind, and the latter are not necessarily the stronger. In spite of my painful illness, I reiterate that for the sake of love, let me stay behind to drink down the last bitter cup of parting.

I hope to remain with my parents and Hexi in their lifetime and be the last to pass away. It would make me turn in my grave if I should be the first to die, thus leaving them with perpetual sorrow. My concern for them is as deep as my love for them.

Therefore, I have no choice but to be a temporary surviving bird. Though I can’t fly any more, having lost all my feathers due to Hexi’s death, my broken heart is still treasured by my parents. They just won't let me die despite my spiritual agony and wound. And nor can I bear to lose them.

The day will surely come when six loving open arms on the other golden bank will welcome me to eternity. Then, and only then will I rush toward with a smile.

I originally intended this article to be written under another title. But I rejected the hypothesis that I was going to die in 30 days. The trials and tribulation s of living, the suffering of mortal life, the acute sorrow of parting for good—let me bear all that alone.

Dad, Mom and Hexi, my dear ones, I love you more than I do myself. So let me guard your happiness and never unthinkingly speak of my death.