Every day, aunt Hoa takes care of her wounded husband very thoughtfully and meticulously.
From the very first moment, I was captivated by the woman's petite figure, gentle smile and tolerant eyes. Each sentence, each word was like pouring warm water, the story she told was gentle but profound, filled with love.
Her real name is Tran Thi Chi, born in 1946, from Vinh Hoa Hung Bac commune, Go Quao district , old Kien Giang province - a land full of mud, ebb and flow, poor and quiet like her childhood. Being the child of a family with two lines, she suffered early because her stepfather did not love her. The unjust beatings, the scolding, the silent meals, all taught her how to endure from a young age.
At the age of 14, she escaped to join the revolution. Leaving behind a troubled childhood, she received a new name given by the organization: Tran Thi Hoa. People in the unit called her "Hai Hoa". She worked as a liaison, ammunition carrier, entertainer, and cook. She did whatever she could, she did not choose easy work, she was not afraid of difficult work. The trips through U Minh forest, across provinces like eating meals, the times when enemy planes discovered and hunted her in the fields did not scare her, because she had the typical bravery of a Southerner.
During those years, my aunt met Mr. Nguyen Van Hoang - a special forces soldier of Rach Gia Province. He was tall, quiet, calm but decisive. They got to know each other, then fell in love. There were no photos together, only a small wedding party to introduce them to their teammates and comrades, but it was unforgettable because they were discovered by an enemy helicopter and chased through several fields on the way to her husband's house. Even though they were husband and wife, each of them did their own work, it was a long time before they saw each other, and the promise was always in both of their minds.
In 1972, Mr. Hoang was seriously injured while scouting an enemy base in Vinh Thuan. At that time, he was the Captain of the local military unit of Vinh Thuan district. A grenade exploded nearby, blinding him in both eyes and injuring his entire body. Upon receiving the bad news, Aunt Hoa immediately took her young child and set out on foot to find her husband. The war made travel difficult, and it took her many days to reach the wounded soldiers camp in the middle of the U Minh forest.
Misfortunes never come singly. On the way to find her husband, her first child, who was just over a month old, fell seriously ill and died. Her heart was broken, the pain was heartbreaking, but in that moment of pain, she did not allow herself to collapse but had to be strong to be a solid support for her husband. Holding back her tears, she sat next to her husband, wiped his wound, held his hand tightly, and choked up, whispering: "I'm here. Our child left us..." From that day on, she stayed at the camp, both doing public duties and taking care of her husband. She gave birth to two more children for him.
When peace was restored, the aunt's family and her two young children returned to her grandfather's hometown in Vinh Hoa commune, old Vinh Thuan district, built a small house on her parents' land, and lived on everything left after the war. A war invalid with more than 90% of his working capacity, a woman took care of the whole family and two bewildered children.
Poverty did not make Aunt Hoa submit. She worked as a hired laborer, a hired harvester, and worked on the family's farm. Later, when she went to the market to make a living, she did not mind the sun or rain, rowing a boat every day to earn money to support her husband and children. Once, a thief broke into the house and took all the furniture, belongings, clothes, and even the radio - the most valuable item in the house, her husband's friend. Tears did not fall, she held back her emotions and said softly: "Well, things are lost but can be found again. Only when my husband and children are lost will it be over."
Mr. Nguyen Van Hoang is a special war invalid, blind in both eyes. Not letting her husband feel inferior, Aunt Hoa is always by his side to encourage him, every day helping him step by step to get used to the space around the house, patiently telling him about every sound of the wind, every sound in the neighborhood, every step of the children growing up. The children gradually grew up. The second oldest brother has a comfortable economic life, with many children and grandchildren.
The youngest brother graduated from university, became a journalist and had a successful career. Every success was marked by the sweat of his mother. That time I asked my aunt: "Do you regret not being able to live for yourself all your life?". She shook her head and smiled gently: "Living with the person you love is happy. What's the loss?" That answer was like a simple yet profound philosophy of life, encapsulating Aunt Hoa's entire life.
The second time I met my aunt was at the house on Tran Bach Dang Street, Rach Gia Ward. In this house, she lives with her husband and her youngest son and his wife. Although she is the same age as her husband, aunt Hoa is healthy and agile, while her husband is mentally unstable, can only take small steps, and depends on others for all his activities. When preparing dinner for the family, she does not forget to cook a separate dish to feed her husband.
She told stories enthusiastically, sometimes very fast, sometimes calm and slow, but the typical humor of the Western people was always present. Not once did she admit that she had a hard life, she only told stories about her brave husband and hard-working, diligent children, then she smiled and said: "I was a bit pretty back then, that's why he agreed to marry me!"
As he grew older, Mr. Hoang's health declined, and Aunt Hoa had to work harder to take care of him. Many nights, when he tossed and turned in pain and was delirious, she stayed up all night, quietly by his side without a word of complaint. Someone told her that she endured the hardship so well, she just smiled: "As long as he is still there, I am still happy". As soon as she finished speaking, she approached to wipe her husband's face with a towel, then gently asked: "Are you hungry? I will feed you!". Hearing this, my heart suddenly filled with tears, not because of a great story, but because I realized a lasting love that had been preserved for decades with an extremely loyal heart...
Someone once told me that in the South, women hold the house, meaning they keep the fire, keep the order, and keep the family tradition. Aunt Hai Hoa is that kind of woman. Holding a house, keeping a warm home, with all her hard work, sacrifice, patience and unconditional love. She doesn't do anything great, but she makes people believe in kindness, believe in the lasting value of love and family.
In a changing society, people like my aunt are the solid foundation for family happiness and community stability. My aunt's name is Hoa, a name that sounds as soft as water hyacinth. But my aunt's life is not drifting aimlessly. My aunt's life is deeply rooted in the ground, in the house with her blind husband and her children who strive to succeed.
Is there any flower that is not bright but still fragrant? If so, it is Aunt Hai Hoa.
Source: https://baoangiang.com.vn/di-hai-hoa-a424944.html
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