In his childhood room the day before the memorial, I found a heart-shaped notepaper that fell. It read, “My dear Chris, Mom miss you & love you. Be a good boy! Love, Mom 9/24/1991”

I met her only once for the first and last time. I can go into all the things she said to him after she met me and all the decisions that were made. But there’s little point to re-litigating what has happened and what could have been.

After I got over the initial traumatic experience during the first few weeks, I slowly started to sense all the love in the house. She created this place for him. For better or worse, she created tight boundaries to ensure as she stated in letters and the will, “a place for his good education.” You could also say that her criticism and high expectations were because she had such high hopes. It’s not disappointment, it’s just hope as stated just like in Joy Luck Club.

At the memorial service, I tried to make myself minimal, because it wasn’t my place. I didn’t know her. But she never knew how long we were together. She never knew that we were married. She didn’t even know what our hopes and dreams were. It could have been a fraught relationship just like many in laws are. I could have been more of a disappointment. I could have endured so many other things. But she is his mother. The one who made him who he is. And that’s the most that I could have wanted.