I would like to remember Yimin “Jenny” He.
Yimin and I first knew each other at Beijing Normal University in Beijing, around 1981. We were young then, just beginning our lives, not yet knowing where time would take us. For a brief time in college, we were close. Although our relationship did not become a shared future, she remained part of an important chapter of my youth, and her memory stayed with me through the years.
When I think of her, I remember someone lively, cheerful, and full of spirit. She loved reading novels. I still remember that she once lent me the British novel Jane Eyre. At the time, I did not truly appreciate it, but now that memory means so much more to me. It reminds me of her thoughtfulness, her love of literature, and her generous spirit.
Yimin had dreams. She wanted to own restaurants in the United States. I do not know whether that dream was ever fully realized, and I feel sadness in not knowing more about that part of her life. I also remember her visiting my home in Houston with her daughter and her daughter’s family before they traveled to South America about five years ago. I remember, too, that she and her first husband visited Texas A&M in 1994, while I was there studying for my PhD in Chemical Engineering. My wife, my older daughter, and I also visited Yimin and her family in Corpus Christi, Texas. Those moments feel especially precious to me now.
I must also say honestly that I regret not helping Yimin more in a practical way while she was in the United States. That regret is now part of my grief.
Her passing feels especially close to me because Yimin died from stomach cancer related to H. pylori, and ten years ago, I too was diagnosed with stomach problems caused by H. pylori. I survived and fully recovered. Because of that, her loss touches me very deeply.
Yimin wished to return to the earth — to become like soil, and then to be scattered in a forest in North America, a place she loved deeply and wanted to become part of. I find that deeply beautiful.
Yimin, I am grateful that I knew you. You are no longer with us, but you are not forgotten. May you rest gently in the earth you loved, and may your memory live on in the trees, in the forest, and in our hearts.
Li Gao (“James Gao Lee”)