Okay, most of you don’t know, but my grandma used to live with me. But recently, about a month or two ago, she moved in with my aunt a few blocks away. Reason being, my grandma was getting old, and no one was home to look after her. My sister and I had school/work, and my parents had work. My aunts would come over daily or on the occasion to check up on her, but it wasn’t quite enough. Being that their stay would only take up maybe two hours of her day. God forbid my grandmother does fall or get injured, no one is there to tend to her wounds. (Now, pause right there with the Life Alert jokes.) I don’t know how old my grandmother is. I don’t know the real age of any of my aunt or uncles either. Not even my dad. Reason being, back when they lived in Vietnam, the communists took all their belongings and they never had the chance to collect legal documents. So when they came to America after months of hardship, and refuge, they applied for citizenship under false birthdays.
Anyway, I’ve gotten off track. But from what I recall, she may be a bit past 95, close to hitting 100 years old. In that ball park. She can barely walk, but she refuses to use her cane. She’s still young at heart, she doesn’t want to face the truth of losing her mobility little by little. She exercises everyday. Not hardcore, but she’ll do stretches and go for a walk to work her muscles. She had nothing to do at home. She used to take care of my little cousin, but he’s 10 now. He’s more interested in playing on the computer than keeping his grandmother company. But I don’t blame him… he doesn’t understand yet. She can’t really watch TV since she doesn’t understand English, so she loses interest very quickly. When it’s nice out, she likes to plant vegetables around the house. She’d plant tomatoes in our front lawn, and we’d have people ring our doorbells making offers to buy her tomatoes. But she’s always refused to sell them. She planted them for a hobby and for her family. It wasn’t something she wanted to make money off of. And I remember I’d occasionally catch my neighbors steal one or two bittermelons from the vines in my backyard.
So she moved in with my aunt. I’m okay with it. It’s good for her. My aunt is home all day, so she can look out after my grandma, and actually talk to her. I’m limited to only a few phrases in the dialect of Chinese that she speaks, so it’s hard for me to hold up a conversation with her. I wish I never let my knowledge in Chinese fade away. But today, I payed her a visit. I walked over to my aunt’s house with my cousin and I brought her a pair of walking shoes that she had left behind when she moved out. So we reach the doorstep, and my cousin rings the doorbell. We waited about three minutes before my Aunt finally opened the door. My aunt walks a bit slow, so we were patient.
As she held the door open for us, we walked inside, and greeted her. I asked for my grandma, and she told us she was upstairs. So I walked up the stairs and made a right at the top of the steps, past the bathroom. Her bedroom was much bigger than the one at our house. He bed was also bigger. So I was happy that she was living more comfortably. But the moment I saw her, I broke into tears. I wasn’t sobbing, or weeping, just crying silently as I greeted her. She asked who I was, and I told her. She looked so happy to see me. She’s gotten so skinny. She’s old now, so she’s picky with her food. When I saw her, she was laying on the bed, almost lifeless. And it scared me. The possibility that, God forbid, she does pass, I’m going to miss her. She’s so sweet she immediately grabbed my hand and held onto it as she tried to get up into a seated position on her bed. I gently held onto her arm and back to help her. And that’s when I noticed how thin she had gotten. She’s lost her appetite, and she had a hard time biting anything too chewy or hard. And being the lovely person she was, she began offering little pieces of candies that she kept in jars next to her bed. She’d eat cough drops for the minty taste since it was one of the few things she could enjoy. She insisted we eat some snacks, but I refused. I thanked her and continued on with my concern for her.
I ran through the typical questions, asking how she was, if she was taking her medicine, and keeping up with her exercises. All the while, these tears are running down my cheeks. My cousin then told me to go to the bathroom and stop crying because she didn’t want my grandma to know I was crying. My grandma’s vision isn’t the best, but her hearing is still pretty decent. So I hope she didn’t see me crying. My cousin pointed out that if she knew I was crying, she’d start crying and start speaking about what would happen if she died, and we both weren’t ready to hear that.
So I go to the bathroom and wipe my face with a paper towel and I look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are red, my lips were dry. I wasn’t ready for this. I love my grandma. I hate the sight of her anything less than healthy. When she was living with me, I hadn’t noticed. I didn’t pay enough attention to her. I was too selfish and busy with my own life to look at the hurt in her eyes. From the time I could recall, her eyes have always been gray. But, I know they weren’t always gray. I don’t know if it has anything to do with her losing her eyesight.
I blew my nose, and walked back into her room. I sat on the chair next to her bed and listened to her talk for the next ten minutes. She was talking about how my aunt has hired a doctor to make frequent at-home visits so she wouldn’t have to travel to Chinatown for a check-up, and how they even hired an exercise instructor for her. To help her with basic exercises to keep her muscles and joints healthier. She told me she was starting to use her walking cane, but not too often since she didn’t want to entirely depend on it, and how she’ll occasionally wear adult diapers. She even told me about this chair that the doctor brought for her that doubles as a potty chair. And sometimes she can hang out in a wheel chair is she got tired. She reminded me about the one time she slipped in my bathtub, and hurt her arm, but no one was home to help her. It was bruised for weeks, and it still hurts on the occasion now. She was so excited to tell me about the different chairs they have available for her use when she showers or goes to use the restroom, so she doesn’t fear slipping. She doesn’t garden any more, because her joints hurt, and she doesn’t go for walks anymore for fear of getting lost, or forgetting where home was. So she told me she spends her days sometimes sitting in the chair by the window, looking out into the backyards and gardens of our neighbors. Or sometimes, she’ll sit next to her bed. and look through old photos. She spoke about how the air conditioner would be too chilly, so my uncle would turn it off, and leave the fan on for her.
She doesn’t dye her hair anymore. She used to. Now, I can see the gray in her roots growing back. It just reminds me that she isn’t getting any younger. But she’s still young at heart. She also spoke to me about some other stuff that I didn’t really understand, since my knowledge of that dialect is limited… So I just nodded and smiled as I tried to hold back my tears. But the tears just filled my eyes, overflowed, and rushed down my cheeks. After about twenty minutes, my cousin wanted to leave before we all started crying. All the while, she was walking around the room trying to put her attention elsewhere as a way of keeping her from crying. So we said our goodbyes, and I gave my grandmother a hug. I wanted to hug her tighter, but she seemed so fragile. She hugged me back, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I don’t think she’s ever done that. Or anyone in my family, for that matter. She was holding on to my hand, telling me how great of a grand daughter I’ve been. And reminiscing about how she raised me since I was a baby, and now it was my turn to look after her. And I just kept nodding and crying. I felt speech impaired. I didn’t want to leave, but at the same time, I knew I wouldn’t stop crying if I stayed. So I gave her one more hug, and told her I’d come back to visit again. And I will.
Shit like this makes me wonder if I’d rather die under tragic circumstances, or live and suffer in pain. I miss her, and I love her.
On a side note, my sister’s a dumb bitch. She told me that everyone was going to SoHo. But she didn’t tell me when. And she didn’t invite me. So I just spent my one day off crying. Fuck you, sister.