To him, I am "最乖，最懂事，最聪明” and I really didn't expect him to say the last part in the video when I was snapchatting him. But anyway, today I looked at my 公公 and i thought of what it'd be like to be in his shoes. I have always known that he is a sad, sad man and I sometimes I wonder what it is like to have a heart so used to rejection, so used to disappointment, so used to loneliness. Is he desensitized to human warmth???? Or does he still crave it?? I look at his copper-olive skin, wearied by time, marked by lines. His grey eyes, dull with age and resembling the colour the sky dons itself in before a storm. I wonder if there is a storm inside of him or has he already become so used to life as it is? I feel pity. Sadness for a father who has given his all to his son, pity for a man who does not and will not experience familial love, anger for a man who does not remember or acknowledge what my mother has done for him and the tears she has shed for him, respect for the same man who has sacrificed his dignity to save his son and finally, guilt towards a man who thinks so highly of me because I do not love him. I barely know him enough to say that I love my grandfather. But I swallow the sight of him and I take it all in. His large palms, his toothless smile, his hunch, his beer belly. My grandfather is not a likable man and I sometimes worry about introducing my future half to him. My grandfather speaks words laced with venom, that prick at the receiver like sharp needles upon contact with a baby's skin. My grandfather... He behaves in ways that are incomprehensible to others, even to his own family. But my grandfather is a man who wants acceptance like how any other basic human being thrives on attaining a sense of belonging in a community. It is after all, the intricate bonds we forge with others that make life worth living. From young, I have received instructions and tips to dismiss his presence, to disregard his words and to put it simply, ignore him. But I have not & have never been able to do so because I was brought up in a family that taught me the importance of empathy, kindness, patience and respect. I was brought up in a family with a father, who, despite his slightly boorish nature, big build and booming voice, always put in his 100% when it came to inculcating the right values in his children. I was brought up in a family with a mother who was never afraid to show vulnerability in front of us, which in turn taught me the importance of feeling.. Of emotions. I know my grandfather isn't completely mad like some may say. I think he does what he does because he wants to be wanted, to be acknowledged and recognized as a person. I know this because I remember vividly how he used to try to reach out to all his grandchildren before most of them shut him out and guarded their hearts against him. I remember how he'd tickle the boys to make them laugh, how he'd drag a stool over to the kids' table in front of the TV to sit with us during dinner, how he'd buy us stuffed toys the moment we said we wanted it and how he'd always try to well.. Fit in. It's sad. But it's hard for the rest of us because my grandfather really isn't easy to get along with at all. Which is why I can't say that I love him because sometimes I feel like I'm just playing the dutiful granddaughter and because I don't want him to think that he is as unwanted as it seems. So this rambling doesn't have a conclusion. Just that these days, I'm looking. I'm noticing the details and taking mental pictures. Because when the time comes, I don't want to regret not having spoken to him or trying to understand him. He speaks of death so easily, so readily and announces so confidently that no one will weep for him. I don't know about others but I know I will because I'm emotional and my feelings get the better of me most of the time. But when the time comes... I don't want to feel the regret I felt when mama left us years ago.
