Can We Talk About The Grandmas
Every time I go home, I openly talk to my grandmother about not wanting to have children, which may not be a wise thing to say for a female born in Asian culture. She never shows a strong disapproval nor a sign that she is fond of the idea. In her hussy voice, she reminds me that the society will see me as an outcast if choose to do so. She always gives the same response, but I keep telling her anyways. It’s much less about seeking her approval and more about simply sharing things with her like a little kid confiding in her best friend, even when sometimes some of my decisions are considered ‘controversial’.
The truth is, I don’t know if I will ever possess the kind of patience and selflessness as a mother like my grandmother and maybe that’s what scares me. While I recognize that being a mom is the most precious thing in the world, I can’t help but feel a sense of bewilderment when I think about her; for she has always put her children first and sacrificing herself so much in the process that it feels like she left behind who she was. I never know if my grandmother has ever got the chance to live for herself up until this day.
My grandmother is not unique, and that you may see your grandmother in mine. In her 20s, she worked extra hours then came home to feed her three children while my grandfather was not able to stay at home often due to the nature of his job. She took different gigs to pay for her children’s college tuition like cooking meals for a small group of workers and collecting tea leaves on the mountains. Her angsty children were a handful, and she was always busy.
When my mom gave birth to me and my sister at the young age of 21, we moved to live with my grandmother so that my parents could figure their life out. My grandmother has been through a lot, which makes her a grumpy woman, but she never questioned nor objected when it came to caring for her kids and grandchildren. And sometimes we just take that for granted.
When my grandfather passed away from an accident and my parents god divorced, my grandma was only around 40 years old. She never remarried, or more like she never had the time to date. She was too busy filling in the roles of a dad to both me and her children.
Just like that, she never truly has a break.
When was the last time we bought a nice meal for our grandmothers?
I would never forget how she always bought chicken thighs for me and my sister, cooked them deliciously and put them into our bowls while eating her rice with fish sauce — a Vietnamese dressing used to season our food. Sometimes she would pick up the leftover bones from our meals and cherished those very last pieces of meat sticking out. We happily ate our meat, us young naive little kids.
When we got a little bit better off, and by that I meant we managed to buy a house and could now buy expensive organic food that was once out of reach, my grandmother’s responsibility of feeding the kids turned into a different type of duty. She now stepped in to take care of my aunt’s son (or my cousin) in his daily routine when my aunt is away from home, which is relatively frequent due to her job as a businesswoman. My grandmother also helped my mom with her real estate business when my mom did not want to hire more staff. There were times when my grandmother, with her joints now becoming weaker every day, went from one apartment to another to greet guests, wash their clothes, makes their beds, and cleans up the house. My heart always grew heavier when I got home and saw her floating from one place to another.
I wonder if she’s happier now. I reminisced about those days when me and my grandmother lived in a rented apartment. Each afternoon she would hang out with some neighbors and they would play volleyball together. I wonder if she was happier then. I wonder if she will forever live with her responsibilities until the day she dies. That is her choice, of course, to devote herself to her motherly duties. I can’t argue with her about her choice, just as much as how I can’t blame her children for being selfish.
“It is hard to live under their roof and just do nothing” — she said.
Grandmas are the toughest. They are so independent and strong that it is impossible for me to imagine if I can ever be like that. They are just there, silently devoting their own lives without asking for anything. I hope we wake up every day and feel grateful for the badass grandmas that we have, and that sometimes a call back home can make her day a little less lonely
