i'm homesick and i can't help it
this was supposed to be a thoughts on 2022 post
while running through GGP, i had a conversation with an old Chinese grandma today. or not conversation. she stopped me and mentioned something while i had both earbuds in. popping one out, she said 奘, which is a term that I have not heard anyone refer to me in. i was a bit confused, unsure that I had even heard the Chinese correctly when she made a running motion to which 跑步 tumbled out of my mouth. excitedly, she nodded, and put the two together, which confused me further, because 奘 is a term that describes the stature of one’s body. it mean’s stockiness, well-built. how could a run be stocky? i apologized for misunderstanding in my broken chinese and mentioned I was born in the states. she laughed a little, before wishing me a good day and puttered along.
i was up on a ski trip when I heard the news. my dad texted me two words that morning. grandpa passed. oh. okay i guess.
it wasn’t completely out of the blue. the night before christmas—when I was on a trip with my brother—my dad called us and told us that our grandparents had both been admitted to the hospital, that covid had been rapidly spiking in beijing. this wasn’t the first time it had happened. and then they said they had been admitted to palliative care. that it was potentially terminal, that there wasn’t enough space, that there wasn’t any vaccines that could treat them. we ended the call and went to bed. i didn’t know what to feel.
when i was back, my dad immediately video called them on wechat.
everything was wired. there was a faint beeping in the background, only overshadowed by the clutter of electronics that filled the screen. she was wearing an oxygen mask to help breathe. i gasped for air.
the times you had called before this it wasn’t much better. every time, i returned home, my dad insisted on calling my grandparents. the slow dial up. the beeping. the waiting. until… 喂? oh, ivan’s back. GRANDPA GET OVER HERE. yes you. do you even hear me? oh yes hi auntie everything’s good. just graduated! yes i’m eating enough. no i’m still single. oh hi grandpa.
except all the while, my dad is yelling in the phone if my grandpa could recognize who i was. for the past few years, he had been growing increasing deaf and was starting to develop signs for alzheimers. imagine that you’re trying to talk to your grandparents on the other side of the world. the words are like river stones, tumbling in your mouth. there’s a waterfall nearby screaming for attention. and all the while, the only thing getting translated are my eyes darting away from the screen, the embarrassment and terror i’m feeling as my dad starts to plead with his father to recognize his son.
when people have been asking me what i’m interested in, i’ve mostly faltered at words. most recently though, i’ve been interested in shapes. that is, what is the shape of a life. is there a way to visualize it? is it able to be mapped to some defined space? is there meaning to it?
i haven’t thought much about this shape until it’s come to an end. by then, you know it’s at least closed. life, always, is punctured by death.
there’s a great section from richard siken’s crush,
He was not dead yet, not exactly—
parts of him were dead already, certainly other parts were still only waiting
for something to happen, something grand, but it isn't
always about me,
he keeps saying, though he's talking about the only heart he knows
funny how people are always talking about being close to dying. i wonder about my grandfather, how he spent those last few months, confused about his room, the people he was interacting, my aunt who fed him every day because he could no longer do it himself. did he reminisce on a life lived? on the love and support surrounding him?
i sure hope so.
爷爷再见, 祝你新年快乐
💛