你真漂亮，她说(Beautiful, She Said)

　　i never thought that i understood her. she always seemed so far away from me. i loved her, of course. we shared mutual love from the day i was born. i came into this world with a bashed head and deformed features because of the hard labor my mother had gone through. family members and friends wrinkled their noses at the disfigured baby i was. they all commented on how much i looked like a beat-up football player. but no, not her. nana thought i was beautiful. her eyes twinkled with splendor and happiness at the ugly baby in her arms. her first granddaughter. beautiful, she said.

　　before final exams in my junior year of high school, she died. seven years ago, her doctors diagnosed nana with alzheimer’s disease. seven years ago, our family became experts on this disease as, slowly, we lost her.

　　she always spoke in fragmented sentences. as the years passed, the words she spoke became fewer and fewer, until finally she said nothing at all. we were lucky to get one occasional word out of her. it was then our family knew she was near the end.

　　我以为我从来就不了解她。她仿佛离我很遥远。当然，我爱她。从我出生那天起我们就爱护彼此。因为母亲难产，我生下来便头部受伤，面貌丑陋。家人和朋友对我这个畸形婴儿不屑一顾，他们都评论说我看起来多么像一个蓬头垢面的足球运动员。但是，她没有。祖母认为我很漂亮。看着怀中丑陋的婴儿她的眼睛变得光彩夺目，幸福万分。这是她第一个孙女啊，真漂亮，她说。

　　在我高一期末考试之前，她去世了。七年前，她的医生就诊断出奶奶患了早老性痴呆症;七年前，我们家就成为这种疾病的专家，然而，逐渐地，我们还是失去了她。

　　她说话的时候总是断断续续。一年年过去了，她说的话也越来越少，直到最后一个字也说不出了。偶尔能听到她说出一个字我们就觉得运气很好了。那时我们家才意识到她的一生走到终点了。

　　about a week or so before she died, she lost the abilities for her body to function at all, and the doctors decided to move her to a hospice. a hospice. where those who entered would never come out.

　　i told my parents i wanted to see her. i had to see her. my uncontrollable curiosity had taken a step above my gut-wrenching fear.

　　my mother brought me to the hospice two days after my request. my grandfather and two of my aunts were there as well, but all hung back in the hallway as i entered nana’s room. she was sitting in a big, fluffy chair next to her bed, slouched over, eyes shut, mouth numbly hanging open. the morphine was keeping her asleep. my eyes darted around the room at the windows, the flowers, and the way nana looked. i was struggling very hard to take it all in, knowing that this would be the last time i ever saw her alive.