11.20.11 It was my grandmother’s 90th birthday — my dad’s mom. She’d been through a lot this year, losing her favorite sister at 95 back in June and a brother in law, months later. Other than weakened knees, she has none of the usual suspects that ail us as time transpires: no risk of stroke, heart disease, Alzheimer’s, etc. The more I was around her, the more I was led to believe that maybe it was the fear and stress of the burden of aging that really cripples us. I’ve never seen her yell, get angry, or feel much despair — she even out-walked me and my sister whenever we’d visit. Each time we gathered for dimsum, for another birthday, my dad would remark about how her health is testament to how much our well-beings hinge on attitude. The first time I saw a look of despair on her face was at her sister’s funeral, before the ending of which she grew tired and asked to be driven home. Back in September, my father gave her some news over the phone that made her smile: that I was coming over to interview her for our family’s history.  There are few people who are excellent story-tellers; my mom certainly isn’t really one of them, but my father is. Fortunately I’m a good writer, if I do say so myself :) Hours later, a family map, and a few voice-recordings, I have some work set out for me when I take a few weeks’ leave in January. 

11.20.11

It was my grandmother’s 90th birthday — my dad’s mom. She’d been through a lot this year, losing her favorite sister at 95 back in June and a brother in law, months later. Other than weakened knees, she has none of the usual suspects that ail us as time transpires: no risk of stroke, heart disease, Alzheimer’s, etc.

The more I was around her, the more I was led to believe that maybe it was the fear and stress of the burden of aging that really cripples us. I’ve never seen her yell, get angry, or feel much despair — she even out-walked me and my sister whenever we’d visit. Each time we gathered for dimsum, for another birthday, my dad would remark about how her health is testament to how much our well-beings hinge on attitude. The first time I saw a look of despair on her face was at her sister’s funeral, before the ending of which she grew tired and asked to be driven home.

Back in September, my father gave her some news over the phone that made her smile: that I was coming over to interview her for our family’s history. 

There are few people who are excellent story-tellers; my mom certainly isn’t really one of them, but my father is. Fortunately I’m a good writer, if I do say so myself :) Hours later, a family map, and a few voice-recordings, I have some work set out for me when I take a few weeks’ leave in January. 

Tags: family history grandmother love storytelling