The Power of Chanting, Stomping, and Wailing

BY THE TIME this article is published, it’s likely my mom will be gone. She’s dying of end-stage stomach cancer. Since she moved in with us last summer, I have been in the throes of “panini generation” caregiving, made worse by my severe cases of eldest-daughter syndrome and immigrant-child obligation.

Though I want to report that these final months with my mom have been full of tender moments and deep connection, more often than not I’ve felt pushed to my limits in the face of suffering that I can’t control. Many readers can probably relate. Hour by hour, we watch slow-moving tragedies unfold around us—some personal, some public and colossal.