Zai Jian Shanghai

We are preparing to say goodbye to the place our family calls home – where Leo and I met, where we were married, where our children were born, where we did meaningful work and where we made wonderful friends. This place has been our home and these people our community for much of our adult lives. We’ve lived in China for nearly 20 years, most of those years in Shanghai with 5 years in Beijing sandwiched in between.

Concretely, I know we are saying goodbye to Shanghai and to China. More significantly, I know we are saying goodbye to this stage of our lives. With each “last” (last dinner with special people, last flight back to Pudong airport, last time walking into school, last bike ride to our favorite restaurant…) my heart bursts with gratitude and aches with yearning for the blessed life we have had here. 

It was important for us to have enough time to be with and properly say goodbye to the people and places that are special to us. We spent most of the summer meeting family and close friends for meals and final outings. We made it a priority for the children to have the chance to spend time with each of their close friends. As the end drew near, I often got emotional at gatherings knowing they would be the last.

To prepare for the movers, I sifted through our belongings from the past 20 years. It was a daunting task that I dreaded. First, I am a very sentimental person and it’s difficult for me to throw things away. This explains why our walls are covered with paper doodles of princesses and stinky bananas, love letters full of misspelled words and paintings of our family at every stage. Our shelves are cluttered with clay figurines of sea creatures and pastel cupcake platters, dioramas of favorite books made from recycled materials, upcycled Halloween costumes and many, many more of our family’s creations.

Second, my mom instilled in me the quality of thriftiness which makes me averse to material waste. I apply a different value system to “trash” than most people because I see unlimited possibilities for upcycling. The top shelves of my kitchen cupboards are full of washed jam and chili sauce jars waiting to be given a new life. Our clothing drawers are kept tidy with old Japanese cookie boxes, my sewing materials are organized in mooncake tins and we always have recycled materials like old boxes, buttons, fabric, wood, string, lying around to be used for crafting and creating. 

I felt grateful and even delighted, to pass on furniture, kitchen appliances and my own clothes to those who could give them a new home. Where I struggled and at moments faltered, was when faced with my children’s things. Every toy, every drawing, every shirt and dress was layered deep with memories. I was horrified and paralyzed at the thought of tossing these things in a bin that would then be thrown or given away. Things that meant so much to me, that represented our life, love and joy could simply be discarded.

All I can say is that I did my best. I dutifully sifted through closets full of clothing, volumes of sketch books and stacks of paintings and artwork. Mercifully, Leo removed old boxes of artwork and drawings and quietly tossed them out to save me the torture of deliberating and mulling over each of the countless items. In the end, our shipment went out with less boxes than we started with but more than we anticipated, many of them filled with our homemade treasures. What was left was put on a truck for our ayi of seven years, bound for her village in Sichuan province. It gave me joy to know that those things would help to improve the lives of her family and community.

The day after our belongings had been packed and removed by the relocation company, I went back to our apartment with my daughters. It was night-time so it was dark. When we opened the door, it immediately felt and smelled different. There was no warmth, no life. Where just a day ago this had been our home, now it was an empty shell. After we turned on the lights, the first thing I noticed was the harsh glare of the lights on the wooden floors that were once covered by the well-worn rugs that my children were often sprawled over. I walked from one room to the next and tried to picture in my mind the details of each room that, less than a day ago, had been filled with our things. That is when I broke down and wept.

It is so hard to let go of this stage of our lives. Ofcourse it is the place, it is the people and it is the memories. To distill it to its purest form, these are the years that gifted me with motherhood. 

These have been the most significant, meaningful and joyful years of my life. Through the birth of our children, I was also rebirthed, and given the chance to discover the best version of myself. Being a mother, ultimately responsible for four other lives, made me stronger than I ever thought I could be. Knowing that I would do anything for my children, without desire for recognition or praise, humbled me. Trying to be a good mother and role model to our children actually turned me into the person I always aimed to be – strong, confident, forgiving, humble and loving.

I am saying goodbye to my early steps into motherhood (the road is long) and to my children’s babyhood. I am not afraid to feel the kind of sadness that aches deep inside. I embrace the heartache and longing. Just like the reflection of a snow-peaked mountain in a crystal-clear lake on a glorious sunny day, my longing is a reflection of the love and energy that I have poured into this stage of our lives. 

I want to remember and honor this time with my sadness and tears. And when I am done grieving, I will wipe away my tears, gingerly store the memories in my heart and forge ahead into our next adventure.