EPTI was born in Vietnam. Out of 4 grandparents, this one grandfather was the only one that didn't die before I was born. Both my father's and mother's family were poor, but my father was a brilliant student. Long story short, when I was a little boy, I was my grandfather's favorite grandson. He was my father's dad and he loved me a lot.
When I was 2 years old, my father left Vietnam to go to America because he got a job there. He promised me and my mom that he would come back to take us to America. As happy as he was to come to this great country and have this fantastic opportunity, he knew he would be leaving his father behind. It was a bittersweet decision, full of happiness mixed with anguish.
We visited Vietnam many times during my life. The first couple of years in America we couldn't go because my father was still on worker visa. We finally went back 5 years after coming to America, and we went 3 more times after that.
My grandfather was a very interesting man. I saw many old photographs of him and my grandmothers and my parents when they were young. My grandfather was very handsome and intelligent. He loved English, mathematics, playing chess, and politics. He liked John F Kennedy. My father still tells the story when Kennedy was assassinated, my grandfather cried and was sad for days. My grandfather was a great man who cared for his family and had honor and virtue. He would save money by walking everyday to his office instead of taking the bus. He would give money and food to beggars on the street when he could, even if it meant he himself would go hungry for that night. And he loved his wife, his children (2 daughters and one son -- my father).
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But apart from these faint memories, recollections, and bits and pieces of stories brought together which reflected the sad passage of time, I did not know much about this great man who was my grandfather.
One week ago my grandfather fell while he was walking to the bathroom, and he was brought to the hospital by my relatives who live with him in an apartment in Vietnam. My father immediately dropped everything and took a plane to Vietnam, knowing that his father was 92 years old and he might not ever get to see him again.
My father had gotten a taxi and was on the way to the hospital, when he got a phone call from one of my relatives, that my grandfather had just passed away minutes ago. My father could not believe the news. He reached the hospital and was led to a room where my grandfather was laying on a bed motionless.
My father put his hand to his father's heart and could feel no pulse, no heart beating. My father pulled his own father's eyelids back to look into his eyes one last time. My father would later say, "When I opened my own father's eyes, I could feel he was looking at me." After this he leaned over his father's body and cried for half an hour.
I did the same thing when I heard the news. I hugged my mom and cried. And I don't usually do that because I'm 15.
I want to say I will miss my grandfather although I did not know him all that well, he was more of a legend than a real person in my imagination.
