(7-97) I didn't know exactly why I wanted to take my daughter back to Taiwan. I could have flown free if I went alone. I paid a hefty amount to take her along with me because of a vague idea that she was going to be six and it was time for her to see where her mother came from.

It was a long flight, and the first two days in Taipei we woke up at 11 PM, looking for breakfast. On the third day, we woke up from a nap at 7 am, and I decided to venture out of the city so that we wouldn't be able to come back to take our nocturnal sleep in the bright daylight. I told Stephanie that we were going to swim in a pool fed by hot spring water, and then visit grandma on top of the mountain.

We took a bus and headed towards Sunny Mountain. We arrived in the middle of the mountain. Half a dozen street venders gathered around the bus stop selling peanuts, fruits, drinks, and snacks. It's a familiar sight. I haven't set foot here in more than 8 years. The mountain seems to have not changed. I asked a street vender for directions to where I planned to go. We found a small pathway and climbed down the mountain. The rocky river bed and the smell of sulfur was the same. The restaurant changed a little with a brightly colored red door and green eves. Little concrete bath houses were removed. Instead, a big dinning hall was built, with fish pond and some landscape in front. We quickly changed and went to the pools outside.

Stephanie was ecstatic. We went to the hot spring pool which was three feet above ground surrounded by old stones. An old tree was kept intact at an corner providing a nice shade. A stone wall with a few shoots of wild grass growing out of the cracks was on the west side of the pool. The hot spring pool was set in a rectangular court yard with a row of short crooked trees, a big underground swimming pool filled with cold mountain water, and a few tables for resting and dinning. At the north east corner was the green mountain with winding roads all the way to the top. At the south east corner was the rocky slope where the river runs. I sat in the pool with my arms stretched on the old stone edges. Blue sky, white clouds. Two butterflies flying by. Life couldn't be better.

I played some with Stephanie. She was totally happy in the water. The pool water was up to her neck, and I felt safe with her walking around and playing. It was a work day. No one else was there. We had the whole mountain to ourselves. I always felt kind of strange here, thinking how close and yet how far mother is. We buried her at the other side of the mountain close to the top. One of my earliest memories of her was the stormy night before a typhoon struck. She had a fight with father and was leaving. Before she left, she gave me a bath. It was one of those primitive aluminum round basin. She bathed me. I remembered the pouring rain outside, her tears, and my pleading: "Don't go. Ma. Don't go." I closed my eyes, and submerged my head under the water wanting to feel close to her again. The hot spring water was warm. It felt good. After I resurfaced, I gave Stephanie a hug and wondered what kind of memory I created for her.

We spent a long time at the pool side. By the time we were ready to go, the sun had lost its full power and begun to set. I didn't think carefully. After we got out of the pool, we immediately climbed the mountain. I was short of breath, but ignored it. By the time we reached the road side, I was suddenly ill. My head was dizzy, my heart pounding, I felt like throwing up. It dawned on me I was having a Vagus Syndrome. The hot pool had dialated my blood vessels, and I immediately started vigorous exercise. My heart was overloaded. I told Stephanie I was very ill, and asked her to be good. I sat down on a rock, holding my head in between my knees. Stephanie was very good. She didn't panic, nor throw a tantrum. She just stood quietly by me. A few cars went by. Some slowed down in curiosity, none stopped. It took a long time before my heart went back to normal. I felt the sun behind my back, and some occasional breeze. Finally, I was well again. Feeling a bit weak and tired, I dreaded the prospect of climbing the other half of the mountain looking for mother's grave. I said: "Stephanie, how about we go home now, and come back another day." Stephanie said: "No. I want to see grandma." She was extremely firm and insistent, though I could tell it was not a temper tantrum. She seemed reasonable and determined. I negotiated. I explained how late it was, and how far we had to walk up hill, and how uncertain I was about grandma's location. For each statement and request, Stephanie firmly refused and asserted that she wanted to see grandma. So we walked.

We walked and walked. I was amazed how Stephanie never complained of being tired. She usually doesn't like to walk, and always tries to get me to hold her. She didn't make a single request this time. We have walked way beyond her range, and I was tired. I asked to turn back again. The answer was the same: "No." We walked and stopped for rest several times. Each time she insisted on going. Finally I saw a gate of a tomb site. I was excited. I yelled: "This is it. This is it." We walked in. It was a large private tomb site with stone stools scattered around. A man with a dog was sitting on one of the stools overlooking the valley. It was quiet. We didn't say a word. I sat down on a stool, resting. I closed my eyes and prayed silently. I asked mother to look after us, and lead us to her. She was buried in the public site with many others around. I had no clue how I was going to find her.

We walked again. By this time I was exhausted. I stopped talking to Stephanie. I was held by a thin but firm thread of determination from Stephanie. We walked quietly side by side, then I saw the pagoda. I remembered father said it was nearby a pagoda. I was excited again. However, I was calmer. I said: "I think this is it." I found the gate to the public site. A vast number of tombs spread beneath my eyes. I saw the river curved around at the foot of the mountain, and the green mountains and valleys extended beyond. I knew this was it. I said to Stephanie: "Grandma is here. Let's find her." The tombs were arranged in rows. There were no pathways in between rows except the stairway in the middle after the gate. I knew it was on the left hand side. We walked from beginning to end, combing through each row. It was the 6th row when we found her. It was the familiar black marble tombstone with her picture on top. "This is it. Grandma is here." I exclaimed. I broke down, both physically and emotionally. I dropped my bags on the ground. I sat on the tomb, and broke out crying. Stephanie quietly walked around the tomb. Minutes later, she came back holding a piece of rock and said: "Mom, can I take this stone back?" I cried, and hugged her, and said: "Of course." We carefully stored the stone in my bag. I collected myself and began taking pictures of Stephanie and the tomb. She was more than cooperative.

I never talked to Stephanie about death. We never discussed the issue. I was not sure how to talk about death. I merely told her we are going to see grandma, and grandma is in a graveyard. She never asked me why. I never found it necessary to explain anything in detail. I don't know where her determination came from. I guess she sensed my love for mother, and that was enough for her to love her grandma. I always feel that Stephanie is a gift from mother. At times I even wonder if she is the reincarnation of mother. The love I have for her and mother is so similar I have difficulty to tell what's real and myth. I thought I was taking her on a trip and creating a myth for her. But it was her taking me on a trip and creating a myth for me.