Here is my nephew, Son. When my husband and I first got together, Son was only 6 or 7. Now 17 years later, it seems really weird seeing him all grown up. We would go and get him many weekends, taking him to the park, or to the movies. He was always quiet, good, respectful, funny. Just a good kid. As a young man, he still comes home to see banoi, alot. Still sweet.
We are moving, hopefully. In the process of selling our house and moving to the city across the river. I have to pack an endless amount of material. The ability for a person to acquire "things" is truly amazing. Every day I come home, look at the boxes, look at my home, and think, I'll just wait until tomorrow. Growing up, we moved alot. Not just a little, like a few times, but a lot. If my mom was upset with my stepdad, we moved. And he would come and woo her back, and so we moved back. There was never a second thought on moving. So, I think I am permanently scarred from moving. It gives me a scary feeling in the pit of my stomach, the idea of moving. Yes, I know, crazy but uneasy still.
Another side of moving. My grandparents live across the street from me. One of my greatest happinesses moving to our current location was because we would be living across from my grandparents. I love them so much. And have always felt the closer I am to them, the better. I talk to my grandmother everyday. She is one of my best friends. She loves my children just like she loves me. And treats them the same also.
My grandfather, before he was sick, could create the best conversations. He would remember everything. And the best story teller. Funny, so funny. And details. We would talk about family, all families, how people were related and where they came from. Everything. Nothing malicious. Just a love for family. I loved talking to my grandfather, about history, his memories growing up, about the war, storms, shrimping. With his growing older and the disease that has taken his mind, I have lost him. I can't remember the last normal conversation I had with him or when he seemed to slip away. Now we talk but it is me trying to understand what he is talking about. And most of the time his words don't come. If it is a noun, he doesn't know it. So, you have to try and figure out what he is saying. It is frustrating for us, and sometimes for him.
My grandfather, my idol. He has always been the constant in my life. Always there, always dependable, never leaving. His word is his life. My hero.
And so, I am scared to move. He walks to my house everyday. Not for me but for my children, to see them. Just as my cousins and I were his life, my children are now. He spoiled them. They are too young to realize the jewel that he has been. He doesn't talk much anymore and can't keep up with Khai like he used too. I am scared he will feel too lost without us here. My grandmother says it is making him sick to see us move. I will come home everyday to see him. I just hope he can remember the way to my new house.
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