[英]玛丽.马尔丹特/Mary Marcdante
小时候跌倒了受伤后的情形，你还记得吗？还记得妈妈是怎样抚慰我们的伤痛的吗？在这种情形下，我的妈妈雷格斯？罗斯就会把我抱起，放到她的床上，亲吻我摔痛的地方。然后，坐在我身旁，握住我的小手说：“痛的时候，握紧我的手，我会告诉你我爱你。”一次又一次，我握紧了她的手。无一例外的是，每次我都能听到她说：“玛丽，我爱你。”我发现，有时自己会假装受伤，那样做只是为了得到她这样的抚慰。尽管这种抚慰的形式伴随着我的成长而有所变化，但是她总会找出一种方法抚慰我的伤痛，增加我生命中各个角落的欢乐。高中生活中的那些艰难的日子里，妈妈会在我回家的时候给我准备好她最喜欢的“荷西”巧克力。20岁的时候，妈妈时常会打电话给我，提议去易斯特布鲁克公园野餐，庆祝威斯康星州温暖明媚的日子。妈妈和爸爸来我家探望过我之后，便会有一张手写的感谢便条邮寄过来，那是为了提醒我：对她来说，我这个女儿是多么重要。然而，最令我记忆深刻的抚慰，还是小时候妈妈握着我的手说：“痛的时候，握紧我的手，我会告诉你我爱你。”我30多岁的一天早晨，爸爸在我上班的时候打来电话。爸爸做事一向有条不紊，但那天我从他的声音中听出了慌乱不安。要知道，前天晚上妈妈和爸爸刚来看望过我。爸爸说：“玛丽，你妈妈出了点儿问题，可是我不知道该怎么办。你尽快回来吧。”开车到父母家的10分钟车程中，恐惧充斥着我的头脑。一路上，我都在猜测着妈妈出了什么事。到家的时候，我看到父亲正在厨房里忙，而妈妈则躺在床上。她闭着双眼，双手放在胃上。我用尽可能平静的声音轻唤她：“妈妈，我在你身边呢。”
“是玛丽吗？”“是的。妈妈。”“玛丽，真的是你吗？”“是的，妈妈。真的是我。”我没想到母亲会问下一个问题，当我听到这个问题时，我不寒而栗，无言以对。“玛丽，我是不是要死了？”看到亲爱的妈妈如此无助地躺在那里，我的泪水在心里开了闸。我的思绪很乱，直到脑子里闪出这样一个问题：“如果是我这样问，妈妈会如何回答？”一时间我无言以对，这一刻似乎停滞了百万年。“妈妈，我不知道您是否会死，但是如果您愿意，一切都会平安的。我爱你。”妈妈哭了，她说：“玛丽，我痛得很厉害。”
该说些什么呢？我又一次迟疑了。坐在母亲床前，握住她的手，我听见了自己的声音：“妈妈，疼的话，就握紧我的手，我爱你，妈妈。”她紧紧抓住了我的手。“妈妈，我爱你。”在接下来的两年里，直到她因卵巢癌去世，我和妈妈有过无数次握手，传递过无数声“我爱你”。我们无法知道我们的关键时刻何时会出现，但此刻我知道，当它真正到来时，无论我是和谁在一起，我都会时刻传递妈妈的甜蜜抚慰：“痛的时候，握紧我的手，我会告诉你我爱你。”
Remember when you were a child and you fell and hurt yourself？Do you remember what your mother did to ease the pain？My mother，Grace Rose，would pick me up，carry me to her bed，sit me down and kiss my
“owwie”.Then she’d sit on the bed beside me，take my hand in hers and say，“When it hurts，squeeze my hand and I’ll tell you that I love you.”Over and over I’d squeeze her hand，and each time，without fail，I heard the words，“Mary，I love you.”Sometimes，I’d find myself pretending I’d been hurt just to have that ritual with her.As I grew up，the ritual changed，but she always found a way to ease the pain and increase the joy I felt in any area of my life.On difficult days during high school，she’d offer her favorite Hershey chocolate almond bar when I returned home.During my 20s，Mom often called to suggest a spontaneous picnic lunch at Estabrook Park just to celebrate a warm，sunny day in Wisconsin.
A handwritten thank-you note arrived in the mail after every single visit she and my father made to my home，reminding me of how special I was to her.But the most memorable ritual remained her holding my hand when I was a child and saying，“When it hurts，squeeze my hand and I’ll tell you that I love you.”One morning，when I was in my late 30s，following a visit by my parents the night before，my father phoned me at work.He was always commanding and clear in his directions，but I heard confusion and panic in his voice.“Mary，something’s wrong with your mother and I don’t know what to do.Please come over as quickly as you can.”The 10-minute drive to my parents’home filled me with dread，wondering what was happening to my mother.When I arrived，I found Dad pacing in the kitchen and Mom lying on their bed.Her eyes were closed and her hands rested on her stomach.I called to her，trying to keep my voice as calm as possible.“
Mom，I’m here.”“Mary？”“Yes，Mom.”“Mary，is that you？”“Yes，Mom，it’s me.”I wasn’t prepared for the next question，and when I heard it，I froze，not knowing what to say.“Mary，am I going to die？”Tears welled up inside me as I looked at my loving mother lying there so helpless.My thoughts raced，until this question crossed my mind：What would Mom say？I paused for a moment that seemed like a million years，waiting for the words to come.“Mom，I don’t know if you’re going to die，but if you need to，it’s okay.I love you.”She cried out，“Mary，I hurt so much.”Again，I wondered what to say.I sat down beside her on the bed，picked up her hand and heard myself say，“Mom，when it hurts，squeeze my hand and I’ll tell you that I love you.”She squeezed my hand.
“Mom，I love you.”Many hand squeezes and“I love you’s”passed between my mother and me during the next two years，until she passed away from ovarian cancer.We never know when our moments of truth will come，but I do know now that when they do，whomever I’m with，I will offer my mother’s sweet ritual of love every time.“When it hurts，squeeze my hand and I’ll tell you that I love you.”
