A Life Well-Lived

A few years ago I went on a trip to Japan with my grandmother, Baachan. We stayed at a hotel that had a public bath house for its guests. This was the first time that I saw my grandmother’s naked body. When I saw her frail figure, her thin, sagging skin, and her wrinkles and scars, I was struck by the beauty of her body, and how it told the story of her life.

Baachan has had 6 major surgeries, including removing most of her stomach due to stress-induced ulcers when immigrating to the United states, a hysterectomy, and donating one of her kidneys to her husband. Her gnarled fingers show the burden of providing for a family in a new country. Her wrinkles show the stress of caring for and ultimately losing her husband. 

Her body is a physical representation of the sacrifices she has made. It is a record of her values, and a testament of a life well-lived. Her body is beautiful, not because it is perfect, but because it is where she resides.