Author: Jeff Ngan (Ottawa, Canada)
Website: Click here
Photo location: Hong Kong
Categories: [family]  [sadness]  [thankful]  

When I was young, my maternal grandparents came to Canada from Hong Kong to look after me. It was summer and my parents were working while I was left at home. I had no friends, so much of my time was spent being entertained by my grandfather.

He was born and raised in China, and studied at one of the universities there after high school. Being able to attend university was quite an accomplishment back then, and he had only one year left before civil war broke out. He joined the ill-fated Nationalist side, where he would have had a chance to be a comissioned officer had there not been a need for English speaking Chinese people. He spoke English fluently, so he was used as a translator for the British troops. He recovered from a shot to the arm, and fled to Hong Kong to avoid prosecution when the war was over. There he met my grandmother, and assumed a career as a meteorologist.

I knew him as a large, but delicate man, who always took the time to explain things to me (something quite rare for a kid who's only six or seven). I spent the warm summer days following him around, playing with him, learning from him. Eventually, he became my favourite person in the world, the first person I've ever looked up to.

On the day that my grandfather passed away, I was crushed. It was my first family death ever, and when my mother gave me the news, all I could think about was how I would never have him as my teacher again.

Eventually, I went to Hong Kong to take some time off from the North American world, and learn more about my family history. I stayed at my uncle's house, the same house that my grandfather bought over 40 years ago. It was December, and Hong Kong winters are pleasantly brisk, so I stepped outside onto the balcony after waking up and getting dressed. There was an elderly man in white socks and black shoes holding a little girl wearing Mary Janes' just below. The man, who bore a striking resemblance to my grandfather, was keeping his granddaughter company while she waited for the school bus to come. I liked how frail, yet tenacious, they looked, as if this weak old man would protect this little girl to the death. Seeing them sitting there, a patient man with a doll of a girl in his arms, reminded me of my grandfather, a strong and gentle man all at once.

And it made me happy to know that he was not the only one.

Other submissions by this author: :  Christmas is dead  :

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