Blogs
Grandpa's Tears
Hot 1 ||
July 24th, 2019
Life is like a tide which rises and ebbs. In the past two years, my life had several episodes, leaving mixed feelings in the heart. But the two years is also a time when I wrote so little that some emotions have already diminished. This afternoon I thought of this corner where I had ignored for a long time and where nobody around my life knew. I wanted to update. Then the topic, which was not yet to have been put down in Chinese, sprang into my mind, and here it goes in English...
------------
July 24th, 2019
In early May this year, it seemed to be my first time ever to see my grandpa cry, helpless and heart-broken. Sitting in a wheelchair, he wiped away the tears slowly and silently with his aged hand, again and again, but no one around him passed a tissue to dry his tears or said anything that could provide a bit of comfort. Yes, including me, mulling and hesitating. In others' indifference, I realized mine.
Due to geographical distance, in my childhood I went to the grandpa's, an old wooden house located in the foot of the mountains in a village, only during spring festival and summer vacation. Since I could remember, grandpa was short-spoken and looked a bit severe. He smoked a lot. He often walked alone and sometimes brought snacks for us grandsons. He spent most of his life in the countryside surrounded by the mountains and hills. With grandma, he raised six children. When young, he had no chance to receive good education but was aware of the importance of studying hard. Because of the gap between generations and our introverted personalities, it is such a shame that I've known so little about him, especially what his inner world was like. Somehow I could sense part of negative psychological shadow in him, such as insecurity, control, superstition, and the like, casted by traditional cultural concept. But I came to believe that under his strong appearance lived a tender and frail heart.
In nearly two decades, he moved to the town, residing at the two of my uncles' in turn. He used to appear healthy, walking with no difficulties. Till the age of 92, his health suddenly took a turn for the worse as he was diagnosed ileus. He lived in hospital for a few weeks but could not bear the pain caused by the illness. So he asked his sons that he wanted to go back home, giving up treatment and trying Chinese medicine. When it came to returning, he might have meant either of my uncles'. However, it was heard that both uncles were possibly afraid of the potential death, which was deemed ominous in Chinese traditional mindset and might bring trouble to the neighborhood, so they came up with an idea that their father would be sent back to the old house, which was actually abandoned for 20 years. Or perhaps it was merely the elder's personal wish, returning to the place where he spent most of his life. Needless to say, the cognition and attitude towards death could make a difference in people's behaviors and actions. My uncles and other family members might be controlled by the fear so they were scared of someone dying, even their beloved father. With uncertainty, they allowed fear to overwhelm love. This made me upset. How I wish I could own an apartment near the hospital in order that the patient could be taken better care of. But I was also aware of the dark side of humanity. I could not say if I were the uncle, I would present greater filial piety. In the same situation, I might behave no better.
On that day when my grandpa left hospital, I saw two lines of tears on his face. At the moment, I assumed he cried not only because the pain flared up. Personally, reasons might be that he felt hopeless for the rest of the life; or he had just learnt what awaited him was the desolate house; or he became depressed and disappointed; or he sensed solitude seeing others stand young and strong... Tears were falling down quietly, but no one took actions to express concern and love! Well, it was likely that the others did not notice his tears, or it just accounted for our family's implicit communication mode. Taking myself as an example, sometimes I am sensitive and sympathetic thinking of what to do, but I lack the habit and courage to act immediately by caring about others timely and properly.
The scene drove me to weep with my grandpa. But pitifully I then did not give him a hand. Even in that afternoon when he arrived at the room in the old house, there was still an opportunity for me to listen to and talk with him; however, I only said a few words and did not dare to strike up a long and heartfelt conversation with him about all that I wanted to tell. Other family members were busy with the clean work; my mom and aunt went in and out of the room to look after him. In that afternoon, I had a hunch that it might be my last time to meet grandpa. For a man at his age, death could come at anytime...Pessimistic as I was, finally I did not spend a few more time accompanying him.
Uncles, aunts, and my mother would live in the house for more days to attend on him by turns. Next day I returned, hundreds of kilometers away from this old home. With worries and remorse, I consoled myself that grandpa's illness was not fatal and that I might visit him again in summer. However, the thing went contrary to my wishes. On a Sunday morning in the end of June, the sad news finally arrived. How he went through the last days was beyond my imagination, but a slice of grief welled up as some memories sprang into my mind. I missed seeing him one more time; I missed the funeral on Monday; I missed bidding farewell. I blamed myself, for I missed talking about the Truth. For ever, these left a sort of regret in the heart.
Life is so short. When I'm with the relatives, we often hide emotions and do not easily open hearts to each other. We talk about recent life, jobs, house markets, etc., but we seldom talk about ourselves. Since little, I had learnt that no feast lasted forever, so I would rather stay "independent" and selfish in the past so that when people depart someday I will not feel too sad and sorrowful. However, I am wrong, as life is for love. I will never feel regretful about loving too much but about not loving enough.
I think I will never forget those tears, falling down on my grandpa's grieved face. I wish at least I had given a hug, a hug that would have warmed his heart.
