Resurrection Sunday

Hello Dear Friends!
How was your Easter weekend? Celebrated with many heretical egg-laying rabbits? Or making trips to wal-mart the day after for 50% marked off candy? The joys of living in a first-world country :)
Easter for me this year has been quite memorable. I spent the day with extended family. Not many of you know that my grandma is suffering from advanced Alzheimer's disease, and has difficulty recognizing even her own children's faces. Names are unimportant and non-existent to her, as she can't even remember how many children she has. However this Sunday, she got to see her only son, out of a family of 9 kids, who came all the way from Brazil to see her. Now her son, my uncle, has suffered from a stroke several years ago that paralyzed half his body and left him unable to talk. Since then, he has made great improvements for a man his age (65) and is able to slowly walk with the aid of a cane, and he can say simple things such as obrigado (thank you) and aigoo (oh my) with much effort.
This Sunday, I got to see one of the most heartwarming pictures I have witnessed: my grandma, who can't remember to turn the light off before going to bed, saw her son, whom she has not seen for almost 20 years, and she recognized him. Her son has no problem recognizing her as his mental capacities are quite lucid; he just can't express his happiness to see her. They begin this long hobble down the hallway to finally be able to grasp the other's hand, only to have the surprise on my grandma's face turn to joy, then turn to anger as she sees how crippled her son is. She starts hitting his arm with tears in her eyes, saying "I gave birth to a healthy boy, what happened to you? Are you really my son?" my uncle has tears in his eyes as he cannot bring himself to say anything but 'oh my', and he can see how grandma is questioning his identity. Grandma gives him an ultimatum: "if you truly are my son, say your name. Say Kim Yung Myung." Now this is a hard name to pronounce even for me in Korean, but for a stroke victim to say, is neigh impossible. The effort that my uncle put into forming the words was painstaking, the emotion that he had was almost tangible, even as his voice has no tone. His face was twisted with the pain that he knew he was causing his mother, and with a super human effort, he finally muscled out: "Kim. Yung. . . Myung!" Grandma demanded that he say it over and over again, until she was satisfied that he was finally her son. At last, recognition set in, and he was accepted by her.
It was both the most heart-wrenching and heartwarming moment-The mother cannot remember her son, and the son cannot say his name or call her 'mother'. yet, by the grace of God, they both were able to overcome their disabilities, and the son says his name, and finally says 'mother', to which the mother replies '..my son.'