Kaonashi Ga Suki

This morning I was sitting in class listening to the professor lecture on social persuasion, the primary weapon of marketers. The professor was using the Home Shopping Network as an example, which suddenly reminded me of my dead grandmother.

Both my grandmothers are gone. My maternal grandmother passed away in 1999, and my paternal grandmother passed away this June. I loved both my grandmothers very much, but since my maternal grandmother pretty much raised me from birth, I was much closer to her than to my paternal grandmother.

My maternal grandmother was a soft spoken, meek woman, but according to my mom, she wasn’t always this way. My mom remembers a time when my grandmother was a tiger. She had a fiesty attitude. As a young woman she smoked cigars with friends while playing cards. She was also a spoiled, lucky woman. As far as I know, she never worked a day in her life; she didn’t need to since my grandfather’s income was more than suitable to support their family.

When I was a child, my grandmother retained some of this energy. I remember her chasing my brother and me around the house when we’d do something wrong (such as poking holes in the couch). Her weapon of choice was the rubber band, and eventually she’d trap us in one corner and snap the rubber band at us. Boy, did it ever sting.

My grandmother’s health started deteriorating around the time my sister was born, and I was 12. When my sister was only a few months old, my grandmother suffered a debilitating stroke which paralyzed the left side of her body. She was never the same after that for she was much weaker and spent the rest of her life with a cane. Another problem my grandmother had was diabetes. Many nights I saw my grandfather prick her thumb to check her blood sugar. Her fingers have been pricked so often, that sometimes she would let out a little yelp.

In spite of her poor health, she tried her best to live a normal life. She and my grandfather would go to the mall almost every weekend to visit their “barkada”- their circle of friends. In addition, we tried to take them with us on as many trips as possible, but as my grandmother got older it became more and more difficult for her to accompany us.

Around 1997 my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. The doctors said that she didn’t have much time. We watched helplessly as her condition got worse and worse. We watched as her hair fell out from chemotherapy. We bought her a wig to hide her balding head. We watched her become thinner and thinner, wasting away until she was just a small, shriveled up shell of her former self. We watched her mind became more and more confused. And there was not a damn thing we could do about it.

In spite of everything she was going through, my grandmother never forgot who she was. No matter what she was going through, how she felt, she cared for us, her only grandchildren. When I’d come home from college to visit, she would give me money like she had been for years. My brother spent lots of time with her, watching basketball and cheering the Lakers. My sister would often play in her room, doing silly things to make my grandmother laugh.

One of the last things I remember doing with my grandmother was not some life changing event or special trip. We were simply watching the Home Shopping Channel in her room. A very pretty ring was on sale and my grandmother offered to buy me for me, in spite of my protests (I didn’t want her to spend money). I made the call to HSN and ordered the ring. She was pleased that she could get me this present.

A few months later, my grandmother passed away. I won’t go into details since this post is starting to get to me. It was summer, and I was working on campus at the time. I took a week off to be with my family. Strangely enough, the funeral fell on my birthday. It was undoubtedly the worst birthday of my entire life.

It took a long time to get over my grandmother’s death, and I don’t think I’ll ever fully get over it. Ioften had dreams about her, especially during the first year. In some dreams she’s still alive, and in other dreams she’s a spirit guiding us. I like to think that they aren’t dreams and that she’s truly guiding us.

Most of the time I’m able to talk and think about her without getting too emotional, so I surprised myself this morning when my professor’s HSN example triggered the memory of my grandmother. I sat in class somewhat dumbfounded and started to think about her and the time she bought me that ring. I tried to concentrate on what the prof was saying but it was too hard. I felt overwhelmingly sad and missed her very much.

It’s strange that I had those feelings in a classroom -the most unlikely of places- when I didn’t have those same feelings when my family and I visited her grave on her deathday anniversary a few months ago. Very odd how things work sometimes.