My maternal grandfather passed away at age 86 last night, surrounded by loved ones. Had it not been for the pandemic unleashed by the abhorrent CCP and the encroaching totalitarianism in China, I would have taken the first flight back along with my parents to attend the funeral. My grandfather had a major impact on my life, since he, along with my grandmother, raised my mother so well and also me during my early childhood when my parents were working long hours. This is the first time I’ve ever experienced the death of someone I’m close to in my life – I knew it was inevitable and that it would be him.
Surprisingly, I’m not as saddened as I had expected, perhaps because I knew it was coming given the state he was in for a few months just prior to his passing. Or perhaps because I know that he lived a long and fulfilling life with few regrets. The circumstances might not have been ideal (understatement of the century) during his life, but he made the best of what he had and gave it his all for his family. As always, I will strive to be as perfectly honest and sincere as I can as I reflect back on his life, for anything less would be self-gratification and would do a disservice to his legacy.
My grandfather was a proud man who never dwelt on the past, nor did he ever solicit pity – never once did he complain or lament his past suffering. Anything I know I’ve heard through my grandmother, my mother, and my aunts/uncle regarding how tough life was back then and how much my grandfather worked to provide. He was born shortly before the Imperial Japanese invasion of China in the Second Sino-Japanese War. I know absolutely nothing of his childhood, for he never breathed a word about it. Shortly after the Second World War ended, the filthy communists took over and began their reign of terror across China, a fate far worse than anything foreigners can conceive of. I wonder, is it the eternal fate of the Chinese to suffer at the hands of their peers?
Life was brutal during the Cultural Revolution and Great Leap Forward. To avoid a lengthy history lesson, know that it was in every way as bad as the accounts and records describe. Tens of millions perished under the famines and crackdowns perpetuated by the communists. My maternal grandmother was born into a wealthy aristocratic family, so they had it particularly rough. Fortunately, my grandparents and their children persevered after they were forcibly resettled into the rice fields despite my grandfather being an academic. Ah yes, I forgot to mention that he taught banking and economics at a college – don’t know the details beyond that.
While living as humble peasants, my grandparents toiled tirelessly, especially my grandfather who always took on the backbreaking labor to provide for his family. Even the smallest morsels of “luxury,” be it scraps of meat or veggies, he would give to his children, leaving only the barest essentials for himself. What little he did have, he gave it all to his family – my grandfather was undoubtedly the embodiment of familial virtue. This quiet diligence and frugality so necessary to sustain them through the famines have remained an intrinsic aspect of his personality throughout his life. In fact, even as a kid, I could recognize just how hard my grandfather worked, never asking for help, reward, or recognition. Even as their standard of living drastically improved from the 80’s onward, my grandfather’s poverty-mindset of frugality remained, which always seemed miserly to me as a kid, not having had the context of the hardships that birthed it.
Before I immigrated to the US, I was mainly under the care of my maternal grandparents. These were truly some of the most halcyon days of youth, though that continued while I lived in the US – I’ve lived a very fortunate life, in no small part thanks to my parents and grandparents. I’ve always been a mischievous little shit who caused plenty of trouble – my grandparents were never the overbearing Asian stereotypes. They encouraged me to live happy and free but also dispensed plenty of moral guidance; a child could not have hoped for a better upbringing. Nor were they ever condescending or harsh – I could pretty much do what I want, since they trusted me to make good judgments. Most of the time, they had no idea where I was, content so long as I’d be back for dinner or called ahead if I decided on whim to eat at a friend’s house.
On a side note, I fully credit my upbringing for my never having had a teenage rebellious phase. My parents and grandparents always considered my preferences when making decisions pertaining to me, and they would always explain their reasoning when they overruled me. On my end, I fully trusted them to have my best interest at heart, so there never was any reason or spite for me to rebel. It certainly helped that my entire maternal family practiced near-perfect honesty and sincerity, a legacy I proudly carry.
The very same humble selflessness my grandparents practiced during destitute times carried over during my youth – I never wanted for anything, since everything they did was for my long-term benefit. It’s impossible to not be moved after having been told innumerable times, “I would happily die for you ten thousand times over. Everything I do, I do for you.” I aspire to such high standards when I eventually bear the responsibilities of parenthood. No lesson makes a stronger mark in the memory as experiencing someone else practicing those very teachings – in other words, my grandparents taught by example. They didn’t need to teach me the value of diligence, because they worked so damned hard, I couldn’t help but admire them. They didn’t need to tell me to be honest because I cannot recall them ever telling a single lie. They needed not to preach responsibility, because they fulfilled theirs so flawlessly and without complaint. They didn’t need to warn me against excessive greed, because they never hungered for wealth or material possessions even as our financial situation improved. What greater gift can a family impart the next generation than a lifelong affinity for virtue?
Aside from those qualities, my grandfather was a laconic man who preferred quiet afternoons reading or playing Chinese chess with neighbors. Surprisingly, he was also a playful old fart – I fondly remember trading lighthearted insults with and play fighting him. Nobody in my family was spared from my relentless banter. Unlike in the strict, uptight, humorless families that expected full formalities in a vain effort to protect fragile egos, in my family, anything goes – everyone gets their fair share of friendly ridicule. In fact, my family was so close, I was lectured for saying “thank you” anytime a family member did anything for me. “You should reserve those formalities for people you aren’t as close with. It is fully expected that I do these things for you, for it is my duty, as certain as the sun rises from the east or the tides ebb and flow,” they would say or imply.
The one incongruent part of my grandfather’s personality was that he remained a loyal member of the Communist Party to his death, that’s a fact I will not hide. Much to the chagrin of the rest of my family who hates communists, my grandfather was a bit of a patriot and communist apologist. I personally attribute this to the sheer volume of brainwashing he was subjected to during his 86 years alive. However, it was always pretty funny to hear my grandparents bicker about communism, since nobody hates communists more than my grandmother, who said she would’ve preferred US colonization. Of course, he was always a father and grandfather first and foremost, a communist sympathizer a far distant second. Other than paying lip service to how great communism and Mao were, he was the antithesis to the typical commie cockroach. Communists are stupid, lazy, dishonest, contemptible, cruel, selfish, greedy, spiteful, petty, arrogant, shameful, and inhuman, willing to do whatever it takes in pursuit of the “greater good” i.e., lining their pocketbooks. In my opinion, it is cognitive dissonance for any Chinese to simultaneously support the CCP and call themselves a patriot, since no entity has destroyed more Chinese traditions and culture or killed as many Chinese people.
It may seem like I’m bragging about how good my upbringing was, but the point is to give credit to the person who set the right example. Both my grandparents, but I’m highlighting my grandfather in this essay. Without a doubt, he played a tremendously positive role in shaping me into the person I am today, and I am eternally grateful to have had the great honor of being his grandson. I can only hope to do him proud for the remainder of my time on earth and to follow his footsteps by paying it forward to my future children/grandchildren. That’s the only way I’ll show my gratitude and ensure that his legacy lives on.
To my grandfather: the time we spent together has been nothing short of pure joy, with benefits for me lasting a lifetime. I only wish I could’ve said that to you in person. Nevertheless, a man’s time on earth is limited, the value thereof determined by how he chooses to spend it. I know you’ve done everything in your power in pursuit of and subsequently achieving the noblest of goals, and that is a life well-lived. 安息.