论文部分内容阅读
The wind tugged at my hair as I stood at the far end of the harbour wall at 1)Newhaven, gazing out at the open sea. In my hand was a small glass bottle, containing two letters. One was to my daughter, Pauline, who had died on 27th August 2008. The other was to anyone who might find the bottle, should it drift 2)off course, begging him or her to send it on its way.
Its destination was 3)Whidbey, a small island off Seattle, where Pauline is buried. Was I crazy to imagine that a helpless bottle could find its way and eventually wash up at the 4)Puget Sound and not be smashed to 5)smithereens on rocks, or 6)blitzed by boat propellers? Yes, undoubtedly.
But I, a grieving mother, unable to visit the grave in person on this first anniversary, felt a deep need to reach my daughter. So I asked my two grandsons, Ned and Will, to watch out for the bottle and let me know if and when it arrived.
Two days later, I received an email from a man in 7)Southampton, who had found the bottle and, having read my letter, sent it on its way again. The next email, a month later, was in a foreign language. The bottle had washed up at Nazare and again been 8)hurled back into the sea by a kindly 9)Portuguese person. And that was the last I heard of it.
“Well, what did you expect?” a friend demanded. Yet, 10)irrational or not, I intend to repeat the exercise. It seems important to make some gesture on every anniversary of the death; a 11)pilgrimage to the sea and a 12)communing with a daughter who lies 13)cradled by another, far-off ocean.
Letters are important. Pauline left me one to read after her death—a source of both deep sadness and deep 14)solace—and I placed one in her coffin, reminding her that my love for her would never die. I also helped Ned compose a short note to his mother, to be placed against her heart.
Pauline also left letters for her sons, and we worked on these together in the last stage of her illness. She wanted the boys, then 10 and 11, to have a written 15)testimony of her love; fearing that, as they grew older, their memory of her might fade.
In fact, realizing how much worse it was for two small boys to have their mother so gravely ill helped me to cope myself. With their father dead, it had been an 16)appalling shock for them when, in November 2006, a 17)cancerous tumour was discovered on Pauline’s tongue.
Radiation in the mouth is one of the most 18)brutal of cancer treatments. Yet, throughout the 19)grueling weeks of treatment, Pauline never indulged in self-pity. All the pain she suffered, I seemed to experience myself, as if she were still part of my own body. Her remarkable courage set me an example that I draw on even now. She was teaching me far more important life lessons, yet I 20)ached to take the cancer from her, even to die instead of her.
Will and Ned matched their mother’s courage throughout the slow, 21)relentless 22)encroachment of the cancer. Ned read to her when she was too weak to pick up a book, held cool 23)flannels against her burning forehead, urging, “Be brave, Mum!” Obviously, though, both boys were 24)prey to 25)hideous fear, and the vividness of their imaginations was frequently brought home to me.
No one could deny that the death of a child—even a grown-up child—is profoundly 26)traumatic. My greatest 27)consolation, though, is that I had my child for 42 years—42 years longer than predicted at the 28)outset. I keep a sort of 29)scrapbook in my head, full of Pauline as baby, toddler, schoolgirl, undergraduate, career woman, bride and then mother in her turn. Even death cannot 30)expunge the fact that I enjoyed my daughter at all those different stages—and, yes, even now, I strive to keep her 31)vibrantly alive.
致女儿的一封信
我站在纽黑文港口围墙的最远处，凝望着无边的大海，让风吹拂过我的头发。我手里拿着一个小小的玻璃瓶，里面装着两封信。一封是给我女儿宝琳的，她在2008年8月27日去世了。另一封是给任何可能发现这个瓶子的人，如果瓶子离开了航线，恳求他或者她将它送回原路。
瓶子的目的地是惠德贝岛，西雅图附近的一个小岛，宝琳的安息处。我幻想一个无助的瓶子可以找到它的路，最终冲向普吉特海湾，而不是被海浪冲到岩石上撞成碎片，或者被船只的螺旋桨所击碎，这是不是很疯狂？是的，毫无疑问。
但是，我，一个悲伤的母亲，不能亲自在女儿头个死忌日去为其上坟，深深地感到需要与我的女儿找到一丝联系。因此，我叫我的两个外孙，内德和威尔，密切留意那个瓶子，让我知晓它是否能到达且何时到达。
两天以后，我收到了南安普敦一名男子的邮件，他发现了我的瓶子，阅读了里面的信件，把它重新送回大海。一个月之后我收到了第二封邮件，它是用外语写的。瓶子被冲到了娜萨瑞，被一个好心的葡萄牙人投回了大海。那是我最后一次收到有关它的音讯。
“呃，你这么做为的是什么呢？”一个朋友如此问道。然而，不管荒谬与否，我打算重复这样的做法。在女儿的每个死忌，有所表示似乎很重要。作为一次面对大海的朝圣，一次与那长眠于另一个遥远海洋中的女儿的谈心。
信件很重要。宝琳留给我一封信，让我在她死后再看——它带给我深深的悲伤和抚慰——我把一封信放在她的棺材里，提醒她我对她的爱永远不会消亡。此外，我也帮内德编写了一张简短的字条，并把字条放在她的心脏边上。
宝琳也留了信给她的两个儿子，我们在她患病的最后阶段共同完成了这些信件。她想这两个男孩（当时10岁及11岁）能够拥有自己爱的书面印证；她担心，随着儿子们长大，他们对她的记忆会减退。
事实上，母亲身患重病对这两个小男孩来说，更是煎熬，意识到这一点，有助于我面对自己。他们的父亲已去世，2006年11月，当宝琳的舌头上被发现有一个致癌肿瘤时，对他们而言，那是多么沉重的打击。
在嘴里做放射治疗是癌症治疗中一项最残忍的治疗。然而，在几个星期百般折磨的治疗中，宝琳从不会自哀自怜。她承受的所有痛苦，我都仿佛感同身受，好像她仍然是我身体里的一部分。她那无比的勇气给我树立了一个榜样，让我至今仍然能够仿效。她教会我许许多多重要的人生启迪。然而，我宁愿自己能够替她承受癌症之苦；甚至代她而死。
威尔和内德的勇气足以媲美他们的母亲在整个漫长、无情的癌症侵蚀过程中所表现的勇气。在宝琳无力捧起书本时，内德把书念给她听；把凉凉的法兰绒毛巾放在她那发烫的额头上，并鼓励她：“妈妈，勇敢点！”虽然如此，但显然两个男孩都饱受恐惧折磨，常常向我诉说内心想像的一幕幕逼真画面。
没有谁能否认子女的死亡是一种多么巨大的创伤，即使是长大了的子女，也如是。尽管如此，我最大的安慰，便是我能够拥有我的孩子42年时间——比原先预测的时间多了42年。我脑海中有一本剪贴簿，那里满是宝琳的各种影像，婴儿、孩童、学生、大学生、职业女性、新娘以及当上一位母亲。即便是死亡，也无法抹去这样的事实：我喜欢我女儿所有不同阶段的样子——是的，即便是现在，我仍努力让她充满活力地活在我心中。
Some things should never be said―like these phrases. Here’s what to say instead:
What Not to Say to a Single (or Newly Single) Person
Don’t say: “You were too good for him.”
Why: You are basically saying she has bad taste. And you’ll be embarrassed if they ever patch it up(修补，复合).
Instead say: “His loss!” It gets the same point across(被理解) without disparaging(贬损) her judgment.
Don’t say: “I’m glad you got rid of him. I never liked him anyway.”
Why: She’ll wonder about your fake adoration for him while they were together.
Instead say: “I’m confident you’ll find someone who will give you exactly what you want.” It focuses on what’s to come, not on the dud(<非正式用语> 失败的人或事) you’re glad she’s done with(结束，完毕).
Don’t say: “How could someone as perfect as you still be single?”
Why: A statement like this comes off as a backhanded(间接的) compliment. What she hears is “What’s wrong with you?”
Instead say: “Seeing anyone?” If she’s tight-lipped(几乎不讲话的) about her love life, move on to other topics.
Its destination was 3)Whidbey, a small island off Seattle, where Pauline is buried. Was I crazy to imagine that a helpless bottle could find its way and eventually wash up at the 4)Puget Sound and not be smashed to 5)smithereens on rocks, or 6)blitzed by boat propellers? Yes, undoubtedly.
But I, a grieving mother, unable to visit the grave in person on this first anniversary, felt a deep need to reach my daughter. So I asked my two grandsons, Ned and Will, to watch out for the bottle and let me know if and when it arrived.
Two days later, I received an email from a man in 7)Southampton, who had found the bottle and, having read my letter, sent it on its way again. The next email, a month later, was in a foreign language. The bottle had washed up at Nazare and again been 8)hurled back into the sea by a kindly 9)Portuguese person. And that was the last I heard of it.
“Well, what did you expect?” a friend demanded. Yet, 10)irrational or not, I intend to repeat the exercise. It seems important to make some gesture on every anniversary of the death; a 11)pilgrimage to the sea and a 12)communing with a daughter who lies 13)cradled by another, far-off ocean.
Letters are important. Pauline left me one to read after her death—a source of both deep sadness and deep 14)solace—and I placed one in her coffin, reminding her that my love for her would never die. I also helped Ned compose a short note to his mother, to be placed against her heart.
Pauline also left letters for her sons, and we worked on these together in the last stage of her illness. She wanted the boys, then 10 and 11, to have a written 15)testimony of her love; fearing that, as they grew older, their memory of her might fade.
In fact, realizing how much worse it was for two small boys to have their mother so gravely ill helped me to cope myself. With their father dead, it had been an 16)appalling shock for them when, in November 2006, a 17)cancerous tumour was discovered on Pauline’s tongue.
Radiation in the mouth is one of the most 18)brutal of cancer treatments. Yet, throughout the 19)grueling weeks of treatment, Pauline never indulged in self-pity. All the pain she suffered, I seemed to experience myself, as if she were still part of my own body. Her remarkable courage set me an example that I draw on even now. She was teaching me far more important life lessons, yet I 20)ached to take the cancer from her, even to die instead of her.
Will and Ned matched their mother’s courage throughout the slow, 21)relentless 22)encroachment of the cancer. Ned read to her when she was too weak to pick up a book, held cool 23)flannels against her burning forehead, urging, “Be brave, Mum!” Obviously, though, both boys were 24)prey to 25)hideous fear, and the vividness of their imaginations was frequently brought home to me.
No one could deny that the death of a child—even a grown-up child—is profoundly 26)traumatic. My greatest 27)consolation, though, is that I had my child for 42 years—42 years longer than predicted at the 28)outset. I keep a sort of 29)scrapbook in my head, full of Pauline as baby, toddler, schoolgirl, undergraduate, career woman, bride and then mother in her turn. Even death cannot 30)expunge the fact that I enjoyed my daughter at all those different stages—and, yes, even now, I strive to keep her 31)vibrantly alive.
致女儿的一封信
我站在纽黑文港口围墙的最远处，凝望着无边的大海，让风吹拂过我的头发。我手里拿着一个小小的玻璃瓶，里面装着两封信。一封是给我女儿宝琳的，她在2008年8月27日去世了。另一封是给任何可能发现这个瓶子的人，如果瓶子离开了航线，恳求他或者她将它送回原路。
瓶子的目的地是惠德贝岛，西雅图附近的一个小岛，宝琳的安息处。我幻想一个无助的瓶子可以找到它的路，最终冲向普吉特海湾，而不是被海浪冲到岩石上撞成碎片，或者被船只的螺旋桨所击碎，这是不是很疯狂？是的，毫无疑问。
但是，我，一个悲伤的母亲，不能亲自在女儿头个死忌日去为其上坟，深深地感到需要与我的女儿找到一丝联系。因此，我叫我的两个外孙，内德和威尔，密切留意那个瓶子，让我知晓它是否能到达且何时到达。
两天以后，我收到了南安普敦一名男子的邮件，他发现了我的瓶子，阅读了里面的信件，把它重新送回大海。一个月之后我收到了第二封邮件，它是用外语写的。瓶子被冲到了娜萨瑞，被一个好心的葡萄牙人投回了大海。那是我最后一次收到有关它的音讯。
“呃，你这么做为的是什么呢？”一个朋友如此问道。然而，不管荒谬与否，我打算重复这样的做法。在女儿的每个死忌，有所表示似乎很重要。作为一次面对大海的朝圣，一次与那长眠于另一个遥远海洋中的女儿的谈心。
信件很重要。宝琳留给我一封信，让我在她死后再看——它带给我深深的悲伤和抚慰——我把一封信放在她的棺材里，提醒她我对她的爱永远不会消亡。此外，我也帮内德编写了一张简短的字条，并把字条放在她的心脏边上。
宝琳也留了信给她的两个儿子，我们在她患病的最后阶段共同完成了这些信件。她想这两个男孩（当时10岁及11岁）能够拥有自己爱的书面印证；她担心，随着儿子们长大，他们对她的记忆会减退。
事实上，母亲身患重病对这两个小男孩来说，更是煎熬，意识到这一点，有助于我面对自己。他们的父亲已去世，2006年11月，当宝琳的舌头上被发现有一个致癌肿瘤时，对他们而言，那是多么沉重的打击。
在嘴里做放射治疗是癌症治疗中一项最残忍的治疗。然而，在几个星期百般折磨的治疗中，宝琳从不会自哀自怜。她承受的所有痛苦，我都仿佛感同身受，好像她仍然是我身体里的一部分。她那无比的勇气给我树立了一个榜样，让我至今仍然能够仿效。她教会我许许多多重要的人生启迪。然而，我宁愿自己能够替她承受癌症之苦；甚至代她而死。
威尔和内德的勇气足以媲美他们的母亲在整个漫长、无情的癌症侵蚀过程中所表现的勇气。在宝琳无力捧起书本时，内德把书念给她听；把凉凉的法兰绒毛巾放在她那发烫的额头上，并鼓励她：“妈妈，勇敢点！”虽然如此，但显然两个男孩都饱受恐惧折磨，常常向我诉说内心想像的一幕幕逼真画面。
没有谁能否认子女的死亡是一种多么巨大的创伤，即使是长大了的子女，也如是。尽管如此，我最大的安慰，便是我能够拥有我的孩子42年时间——比原先预测的时间多了42年。我脑海中有一本剪贴簿，那里满是宝琳的各种影像，婴儿、孩童、学生、大学生、职业女性、新娘以及当上一位母亲。即便是死亡，也无法抹去这样的事实：我喜欢我女儿所有不同阶段的样子——是的，即便是现在，我仍努力让她充满活力地活在我心中。
Some things should never be said―like these phrases. Here’s what to say instead:
What Not to Say to a Single (or Newly Single) Person
Don’t say: “You were too good for him.”
Why: You are basically saying she has bad taste. And you’ll be embarrassed if they ever patch it up(修补，复合).
Instead say: “His loss!” It gets the same point across(被理解) without disparaging(贬损) her judgment.
Don’t say: “I’m glad you got rid of him. I never liked him anyway.”
Why: She’ll wonder about your fake adoration for him while they were together.
Instead say: “I’m confident you’ll find someone who will give you exactly what you want.” It focuses on what’s to come, not on the dud(<非正式用语> 失败的人或事) you’re glad she’s done with(结束，完毕).
Don’t say: “How could someone as perfect as you still be single?”
Why: A statement like this comes off as a backhanded(间接的) compliment. What she hears is “What’s wrong with you?”
Instead say: “Seeing anyone?” If she’s tight-lipped(几乎不讲话的) about her love life, move on to other topics.