2004-07-17, 4:45 p.m.
Even though my grandma really hadn't been herself in years, I find myself missing her now even more than I did post-stroke. The only actual difference is that her body is missing, but I found her presence comforting. It ensured that my extended family would stay together. Now that she's not around, there's really no glue that brings my extended family together.
I guess that's what grandma and grandpa really meant: holidays, summers, birthdays, and celebrations at their house; playing in the yard; biking and rollerskating around the block; hide and go seek in the dark; going camping with my grandma; having picnics...with my mom's 6 other siblings, and their 18 kids. I find myself missing her at really inopportune times, but I guess that's her legacy. She spent her entire life in service to her family, community, and faith. My uncle's eulogy spoke of how she'd take in displaced strangers during the war, even allowing a woman to mourn her mother's dead body in their living room. She'd send her children out to feed the hungry, even when they were afraid.
She's someone really worth missing who played a huge part in shaping my life in her own gentle manner. She was successful in raising and educating her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren without ever raising her hand or her voice. Over the last few years, I periodically had dreams where she was no longer sick. She was always just sitting on the back stoop waiting for me to return from school.
Things I remember:
- Watching her wash her long white hair outside. It was the only time I ever saw her hair not in a bun. Right before she got sick, one of my aunts gave her a very cute "Rachel" cut.
- Going hiking with her when we went camping, even though she was already in her 70s.
- She always insisted on sitting bitch, refused to wear a seatbelt, and always sat leaning forward to talk to people in the front seat.
- Her arguing with my mom that she was "too old to wear a bra" even though she had big boobs that only one of us inherited (not me).
- The dance my cousins and I did for my grandma & grandpa's 60th anniversary celebration (it was done to a Buddy Holly song).
- She'd give us half-sized cans of 7-up when we were good.
- She never yelled at us.
- She always teased us.
- She had a great repoire with my dad--her and my aunt are the only ones allowed to tease him and get a smile instead of the temper
- She'd make me weird snacks after kindergarten--a bowl of rice with slices of watermelon or mango.
- Her paying us kids a penny for every 10 pebbles we picked out from her garden. When we had enough, we'd run to 7-11 to buy candy. When we got older, it dawned on us that she had been dumping the pebbles back into the garden so that she could keep her flock of grandchildren entertained and occupied.
- She let my cousin and I use a part of her garden to try to grow watermelon from watermelon seeds.
- I spent almost every day after school at her house (she lived next door to my uncle) until I was in high school.
- If you left your glass unattended, she'd wash it...even if you were only half done drinking it.
- One of my favorite pictures is of her teaching me how to read when I was three. I loved sitting next to her squishiness.
- Getting li si (red envelopes) from her. She didn't have a lot, but whatever she had, she shared with us.
- She would always say that she had mat cho giay (eyes of a paper dog). It meant she couldn't see for shit, but I never understood the phrasing.
- She was also deaf, but refused to wear a hearing aid. She said she had no need to hear grandpa yelling at her. (They always argued about the same thing--his diet. He always wanted to eat fatty food, and she didn't want him to).
Many people are remembered better post-humously than they actually were, but my grandma truly was the kindest, most generous, and most loving person I've ever known.
Reading my cousin's entry just made me miss her more. Oh, and I found two old entries I wrote about her when she first got sick: August 3, 1998 and August 11, 1998. Hmmm...my page layout hasn't changed much.
(In the chapel parking lot) My dad is the worst driver in the world, which is why he is only allowed to drive old shitty cars.
One of my nieces. She's really naughty.
Another niece (there's a lot of women in my family). She's really big.
- We buried my grandma on Saturday.
- One of my earliest memories is of my grandma. After falling asleep at our apartment down the street, I woke up at my grandma's house in the middle of the night, incredibly confused. I must have been crying, because my grandma opened the door (I remember the lights from the room behind her and her shadow), and comforted me. She sat stroking my hair until I fell asleep again, explaining to me that my parents were at the hospital and when they came home, I'd have a new brother.
- When she was sick, I also stroked her hair when I visited. It seemed to relax her, as she'd close her eyes when I did so.
- Following the hearse past my aunt's house was heartbreaking. She's too sick to attend her mother's funeral and she's moved from her father's bed (which was vacated in January) to her mother's newly vacated bed. She'll be next but I'm not ready for her to go. Now that my grandma's gone, she's the only voice that can temper my dad.
- The singing got a little out of hand�it made the altar boy crack up.
- On the way from the church to the cemetary, my dad cut off the hearse, almost causing an accident. "Because the hearse was driving too fast", my dad (the vigilante) got in front of the hearse (which was going 60 mph on 280) and braked really hard, causing the hearse driver to swerve and go from 60 to 30 mph in less than a second.
- I got a sunburn at the cemetary. This is probably only the 3rd time in my life I've ever been burnt.
- Like every other funeral at this cemetary, my parents pointed out the order in which they'll be laid out. They were also bragging that their plots have doubled in price since the initial purchase.
- My mom went to a casket outlet (had no idea those things existed!) and managed to get grandma a free casket upgrade.
- My uncle died that night. He used to take me & my cousin to his restaurant and feed us fried bananas and ice cream. The ice cream was never scooped. It was always sliced from the box. Afterwards, we'd play in the storage room among big sacks of rice and steal shrimp crakers from the bin in the kitchen. I distinctly remember the greasy smell of the kitchen.
- I spent all weekend with my cousins. Last night we had 7 course beef at Anh Hong in the Tenderloin. For a Vietnamese restaurant, the service is amazing. And we had more than we could eat.
All events should have concessions: ballgames, church, funerals, movies. It's always good to have food and beer around.
My lame (rich bastard) summer intern's excuse of the day: "Lan, I have to go home at noon to babysit my parents' dog."
So the good news is that my brother's comic (he edits and occasionally writes it--megatokyo.com) got covered in the New York Times' Sunday Book Review.
That's about it in terms of good news. My aunt is in the hospital with a very grim prognosis. The cancer is wreaking havoc in her stomach. My other uncle has been moved to hospice. This reminds me of the time about 7 years ago when three people I knew died within a short span of time...but it wasn't as close to me. I can laugh at the absurdity of it all, but it still sucks.
This was my grandma about 7 years ago. I was much sadder 6 years ago after her stroke, because that's when we really lost her. Her body finally followed her soul.
Yesterday, after work, I went down to visit my grandma. In the room with her were my mom, dad, 2 aunts, uncle, and cousin + wife & baby. As soon as my mom realized that there were four generations of us in the room (and that I had my digital camera with me), she wanted us all to take a picture with grandma. You know, grandma--on her deathbed, has a constant morphine drip, eyes are slightly rolled up and glassy, doesn't register anything anymore, sometimes stops breathing. And my mom wants three other generations to surround her and smile?!?!?! Not on my memory card.
If you know my mom, this isn't out of the ordinary for her. She has a whole roll of film from when my grandpa was dying, and also wanted my cousin to take a family portrait of us in front of his open casket. She also has a whole roll of pictures of my aunt post-cancer surgery, while she was still passed out.
One time, when I was looking through some family photo albums with my cousin, a picture fell out. It was labeled "(her best friend)'s funeral, Oklahoma, 198x".
It was a picture of my mom's best friend in her casket with her two children sobbing. Yes, my mom has a talent for morbid art.
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