A letter to my grandmother
Dear Grandma;
Went home last night because mom wanted to talk. She told me stories I already know but wanted to hear again, mainly because they’re so hard to believe.
Like how your mom sold you for seven dollars when you were three because she had no money. And that when you heard your mom died three years later, you ran away to change her clothes because you didn’t want her to be dressed in rags when they buried her.
I think when I was six, all I wanted in life was more food. I’m 35 now and I still think of food way too much. Well, you remember how fat I was…
Mom cried again when she got to the part where you came back and they beat you. She said you didn’t deserve such a hard life. No one does.
But you were tough. Mom’s tough like you. She thinks I get my temper from you, which, by the way, I’m working on. I told her it was probably more from my lack of sleep. Speaking of sleep, I thought of a line that goes: We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. But I digress…
I do think that I got my eyes from you. Oh, and Aki and I have this weird talent I think we get from you too; mom says that if you ever saw anyone knit something, you could recreate it. well, Aki can play any song he hears on the piano and I can do something similar with a sword – which is admittedly pretty useless but is good cocktail conversation.
Been meaning to say I’m sorry – again. That I broke my promise to you. It keeps me up at night, the regret. It eats me. As does the fact I couldn’t go to say goodbye. Yours was the only promise I’ve broken in years, I think. I had a really good reason – I’ll tell you about it some time.
Mom says that your funeral was packed – even your real father’s entire family came. Because you loved them even though there was no reason for you to. I meet a lot of wealthy people here in the big city but they’re all labels and show. I know it’s wrong, but I feel it’s somehow cosmic justice that you ended up more successful than all of them.
You know, mom made the right choice coming here, she really did. The best thing about this corner of the world is that no one ever asks what we come from, only where we’re going. But I don’t forget what I came from. Who I came from. In fact, I don’t forget anything.
I guess the main thing is that I wanted you to know that your oldest daughter’s safe. You can rest because mom’s safe. We’re all safe.
Really.
You would have been 87 today. I pray that you get the grace and mercy in the next life that you didn’t get in this one. Happy birthday.
L
Location: home
Mood: indescribable
Music: All your grief At last, at last behind you
17 replies on “Safe”
wow. and I don't mean this at all glibly, if you knew how much this story meant to me:and remember the truth that once was spoken, to love another person is to see the face of God.
I'm glad – that means a lot to me, really.But why don't you tell me?
[…] Start blog. 2007 – 72Canal: good. Lose life savings; get in a car accident: bad. 2008 – grandmother passes. Never get to say goodbye. Enter Heartgirl. 2009 – still a lawyer. Move back to a room with a […]
[…] we had lunch at Johnny Rockets. Never been there either. Thought of my grandma; cause y’always think there’ll be time enough to do things. Then one day, y’find […]
[…] that’s on a purely pragmatic basis; on a personal level it’s always too early for a loved one to go, […]
[…] She is, after all, family. I’d keep her safe. […]
[…] or seen killed three things for food – two chickens and a snake. All three were with my grandmother. She wanted me to know where my food came […]
[…] breakup, the theft, the car accident, my grandmother leaving, and the cancer scare took their toll on me. Once told someone that as a lawyer, a fencer and a […]
[…] Safe I thought of my own grandma when I heard the news. We were close because she lived in Taiwan and I’m an insomniac. When I was up at 3AM, I had someone to speak to. After she passed, when 3AM rolled around, found myself just sitting in the dark by my lonely. So I wrote her this letter. […]
[…] morphed into my admittedly peculiar dating life punctuated with some really cool highs and some awful, awful lows. Now I’m just a boring married […]
[…] wrote once to my grandma when she passed to not worry so much about my mom. She was safe […]
[…] I was little kid, I went to Taiwan to see her mother, my grandma, who showed me how to properly kill a chicken. I saw this chicken walking around one moment and […]
[…] even go when my grandma passed because I was tied up in court and crap piecing together my life […]
[…] that’s on a purely pragmatic basis; on a personal level it’s always too early for a loved one to go, […]
[…] In fact, at the seminal moment of the film, alone, he talks to his father and, essentially, wants his dad to know he was ok. That’s all any father parent wants for his kid. […]
[…] you were ok. If my kid hated me, it’d break my heart, yeah. But if I knew he was happy and safe that’s all that would really matter, man. That’s the only thing that matters to any […]
[…] Me: (angrily) Yeah, well, you wait. My kid is gonna be successful and happy. Him: You’re threatening me with a happy and successful grandkid? (laughing) Go ahead. Because that’s exactly what I want too. When you’re a dad yourself, you’ll understand. I’m trying to keep you all safe. […]