On the day I was born at El Camino Hospital, my grandparents stood hovering over my clear hospital crib, smiling down at me. I weighed barely 6 pounds and was dressed in a pink cotton cap and a hospital blanket, but my grandma held me in her arms and rocked me while my grandpa looked on proudly. Little did I know that 10 years from that day, my grandparents, would be 6,698 miles away.
Before my family moved to Saratoga in 2004, my grandparents lived with us in San Jose. When I reached my first birthday and started to take my first steps, my tiny hand gripped my grandpa’s index finger until it turned white as I tried my best to stand up. He walked with me up and down the hallways and encouraged me to stand back up each time I collapsed in a little heap. When I got exhausted, my grandma scooped me up and brought me to the kitchen. She always put a bib on me that said: “If mom says ‘no,’ ask grandma.”
After I began to walk regularly, my grandpa and I, along with our little pug, started to take daily walks to the bottom of the hill. If we had enough energy, we would walk another mile to the town square to purchase a bottle of my favorite orange cream soda. When we returned home, my grandma always prepared my favorite afternoon snack: burnt, buttered toast with apples and peanut butter.
My grandpa also taught me my first notes on the piano. Although he only knew basic keys, he helped me discover my passion for music. Because of him, music has been a part of me throughout my life and has become something I can turn to whenever I need to relax.
Whenever I finished my homework, I joined my grandpa on the couch to watch the Los Angeles Lakers and Kobe Bryant, my grandpa’s favorite player. It was moments like those, moments where I lay on my grandpa’s big belly, that made me feel incredibly blessed and special.
As I continued to grow and learn new hobbies, they were my biggest fans at my music recitals, Irish dance competitions and tennis matches. My grandpa always helped me calm down, forget everything else, and only focus on whatever I was supposed to do. He never failed to help me believe in myself.
My grandparents and I continued to create memories in the years that followed, especially on trips and vacations. In Paris, we tasted 20 flavors of gelato and 30 types of cheese. In Alaska, we drank glacier water and came within several feet of a grizzly bear. In China, we rode camels on the Great Wall and fed bamboo to giant pandas. There was never a dull moment with them.
However, when I was 10 years old and in the fifth grade, my parents told me one school night that my grandparents had decided to move back to their hometown, Taipei, Taiwan, where everything was more convenient for them. My parents explained that due to their older age and health, they need to be somewhere where everything was walking distance and easily accessible.
What followed that announcement is a blur to me now, but I remember thinking that everything was crashing down on me, as cliche as it sounds. Though their departure date was set, I continued to pretend that they were not really going to leave and stayed in denial.
After a lot of thinking to myself, I pushed my feelings away and forced myself to believe that there was nothing in my control that I could do to change the situation. I started to look through old photo albums and began to put together a scrapbook of my favorite memories with them.
On the morning of their flight, I was quiet and stayed apart from everybody else. After the luggage had been loaded in the car, my grandpa called my name. Gathering every ounce of willpower to hold back tears, I walked over and sank into his outstretched arms. He held me tightly and whispered that no matter where he was, he would always be there for me. He would only be a phone call away. My grandma, being the soft and gentle person she is, couldn’t bring herself to look at me.
I asked them to wait, and I ran to retrieve the finished scrapbook from my room. Handing it to my grandma, she took it and held me close.
I spent the immediate hours after their departure to myself, randomly recalling sweet memories and fun times spent with them. As time slowly passed, I began to feel like my usual self again, smiling and have a good time with family and friends. I thought of them frequently, and I still do, even now. I always look forward to calling them once or twice per week when the time difference is right.
Because my grandparents are important figures in my life, it was hard to let them go. At first, it seemed as if I was missing a piece of myself, and I no longer knew how things were going to be. But just like my grandpa helped me get back on my feet when I learned how to walk, he and my grandma will always be my supporters, my listeners and most importantly, my family.
Nowadays, whenever I miss them and wish they were with me, I sit down at the piano and play a piece that my grandpa would enjoy.
Through this experience, I’ve come to understand that some things are out of our control. We must accept that the people in our lives are meant to come and go, but they will remain close to your heart, always.
