Interesting (and just coincident) enough, many of my childhood friends are now TV reporters, magazine editors, and News anchormen/anchorwomen in Taiwan. One of them is Aaron*.
Aaron is, in fact, such a famous TV reporter in Taiwan, I will not mention his real name here. However, I would like to talk about our visit at the class reunion.
Aaronl, like many of my other childhood friends, was "forced" to leave our hometown Hualien for a better future. You see, Hualien is a remote city on the east coast of Taiwan, it doesn't have much to offer young people with ambitions and dreams.
So I left, Aaron left, many other childhood friends left, and we lost contact, until recently. Thanks to facebook.
That evening after the class reunion, Aaron gave me a ride back to the place where I stayed, because he happened to live close by. During the ride, he talked about his failed marriage, his stressful job, his financial situation, his current girlfriend, and his mother... especially his mother.
Aaron's father became really sick when Aaron was in third grade. Everyday after school, instead of walking home, Aaron would walk to the hospital, where his father had moved in, and his mother stayed. Every night, Aaron and his mother shared a tiny chair by his father's bedside, and slept through the night, while myself and other classmates laid comfortably in our own beds, in our own houses.
Aaron did that day after day. His uniform smelled like rubbing alcohol, and his eyelids always looked heavy, his naughty smile faded in silence.
Two years went by, when we were in fifth grade, one day Aaron was absent. I heard that he had finally gone home. But he did not come back to school as the usual Aaron we all knew. His life was not the same anymore.
Aaron was a very strong boy. I did not know that when we were kids. I did not know that when I got to see him everyday in class, except that one day when he was absent, and apparently went to his father's funeral. The next day, instead of rubbing alcohol, he came to school smelling like coal. Under his two heavy eyelids were two red eyes... His lips were thin. They tightly touched each other and hung downward all the time.
Aaron's mother raised him on her own. She was uneducated, and could not find a job anywhere. She sent Aaron to live with her sister and took a job offer as a live-in maid in Japan. Aaron started to live without both parents at age 12.
Aaron graduated from high school, passed the Annual National College Entrance Examination, and was admitted into Dan-Jiang University in Taipei, majoring in journalism. Upon receiving his diploma, he was offered a job at a TV station as a war zone reporter.
He was assigned to Iraq.
He traveled extensively to 69 different countries around the world, married a Japanese woman, got sent back to Iraq, making killer money, away from his wife 2/3 of a year, working overtime everyday, started to smoke, and eventually lost his wife to a divorce that could have been avoided...
Aaron built up his media empire. He is a familiar face on TV. He is surrounded by many, but lonely inside. He was a boy who grew up too early, too fast. He never learned how to cry...
"Hope, you know, people think I have everything in the world. Sure, I have money, I have fame, I have women, and I have a really nice car. But I am broke. I am lonely. I get scared sometimes. I don't want to admit it, but I think my life is empty.
And I don't even dare tell my mom how scared I am, living a life with no real purpose... I can't let her know I am weak."
Aaron talked about how much he loved and missed his mother, how hard he tried to make her proud, how much he was afraid that he had disappointed her because of his failed marriage, and how many dark hours spent in Iraq when he was so homesick, so wanted to hear mom's voice and comforting words, but hesitated to call her, because that would make one more sleepless soul in the world, that night, every night.
"I don't want my mom to worry about me. I want her to know that I can take good care of myself. I only want her to hear good news from me. And that's also why I don't call her anymore..." Aaron finally broke down and cried.
A mother and a son. When life took the most special person away from them, when things seemed so hopeless, when nights were long and days were short, a mother and a son snuggled tightly, looked ahead into the darkness, bit their bottom lips, forgot their tears, and stepped forward out into the storm. Just the two of them. They needed each other. And they still do.
So this morning, I went to this traditional tea shop in Hualien, where I met with a 79 year-old lady, whose son went to school with me. Whose son spent two whole years in a tiny chair in the hospital. Whose son came to school everyday smelling like rubbing alcohol. Whose son overcame trials and tribulations, and built an empire for the entire nation to see.
So this morning, I went to this traditional tea shop in Hualien, where I met with this 79-year-old lady, and enjoyed a long visit with her. I needed to tell her that she had every reason in the world to be proud of her son. I needed to tell her that her son is doing all that he can to be a good person, just like his dad. I needed to tell her that even though her son doesn't call her very often, he thinks of her often. Finally, I needed to tell her that I had just met with her son the other day, and he would like to tell her:
"Mom, I love you!"
You should have seen her eyes light up and filled with tears when the name "Aaron" came out of my mouth...
~For you, Aaron, and Mrs. Z
*Name has been changed for the privacy of the said person.
