My grandfather was not born into wealth. His parents gambled away all their money, so he lived with his grandparents as a child. His grandfather used to say, “3 bowls of rice, 3 pieces of cloth; shiver keeps you awake, hunger keeps you running.” At 16 years old, he went to work in a coal mine, which nearly killed him. Then he joined the communist army amidst the revolution for Vietnam’s independence from the French.
My grandfather used to joke that if not for the revolution, the closest he’d ever get near my grandmother were her feet. He was probably correct, because unlike him, my grandma was born into an upper class family. To avoid being prosecuted for their wealth and status, the children of my great grandparents, including she, joined the army to fight. And that’s how they met each other.
It’s hard to imagine how love plays out in wartime. I’d hear stories like how they hid in the trenches while bombers were whizzing over their heads, and my grandpa promising to my grandma that they’d still marry each other even if they were to lose parts of their bodies. It’s about as romantic as terrifying of a love story.
My grandpa received all of his education from the army. He studied to become a nurse, then a doctor, and then a successful medical researcher by the time he retired. My grandma was not as smart or ambitious as him. She got her pharmacist license and didn’t pursue further. In all the years that I lived with them, I never saw him raising his voice to her. I think he loved her very much. It’s hard to imagine the kind of bond they must have shared from all they had gone through together.
At 60 years old, my grandma had a stroke. Half of her body was paralyzed. My grandpa took care of her completely on his own. It was how he learned to cook, clean, and do all the house chores that she used to do before. People told me he must have loved her a lot. He could have hired help, which is what most people would do.
Once they were arguing over who would die first. They both wanted to be the first to go, like they both were scared to lose the other one. I didn’t think much of it then. But to love and be loved, I’d rather stick around for their end of time.
My grandma recovered from the stroke, but no longer the same as before. My grandpa continued to do all of the house chores. He measured her blood pressure daily, administered her medicines, and never let her go anywhere far. Too much excitement would raise her blood pressure.
I’ve always admired my grandma’s adaptability. After the stroke, she just cut salt out of her diet cold turkey and took on a whole lot of other dietary restrictions without qualms. She was a Buddhist practitioner and used to take me to the temples with her. She must have really gotten the art of detachment down. Nothing ever seemed to bother her much. So it was the same that she didn’t seem to mind not being able to do much or go anywhere, even though we, the kids and grandkids, were certainly concerned.
Once I was laying down with her during nap time. We did the usual chit chat – stories about her and my grandpa, my dad, her disability. Then I saw tears from her eyes, and she said quietly, “When I married your grandfather, I married into hardship.” I had not heard her saying something like that before, and never again.
Toward the end of her life, she had several more strokes. My grandpa wasn’t healthy enough to take care of her on his own any more. But still, no help was hired. My uncles filled in where he couldn’t, cleaning her, feeding her. My grandma had no daughters, but all the boys must have loved her a lot.
She got her last stroke at 80 years old. Blood was hemorrhaging from her brain and my grandpa wanted to do a brain scan to see if it could be operated upon. My uncle had to intervene to let her go.
I’ve always admired my grandfather’s love for life. After my grandmother died, he was heart broken for a while, but he got over it. He stopped the cooking and cleaning. Instead he hired a woman to help with the chores and to take care of him, an older woman but much younger than him. I think there was more between them than just business. What does it take to keep on going even after the love of your life dies, that you’d find warmth in another woman and live out your life for another decade? And how do I get some of that mojo??
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