The Grand in Grandmother

When I was growing up, my parents took teaching jobs in a remote town, leaving me int he care of my grandmother. Nanay, as we called her, did not hug or kiss children. Her tongue was sharp and her words harsh. She was a tyrant (独裁者), but she was there. As early as I could remember,Nanay had always been a part of my life. i believed grandmothers lived forever. She taught me many lessons, though I often ignored them, Nanay urged me never to accept second-best. For her, “good enough" was never enough, from the grades you bring home from school to the service you receive in restaurants. When I was 13, Nanay sent me to Manila to attend high school, and I stayed there for university, I came back each summer, but after I got married the visits became less frequent.Soon all of her grandchildren had moved out. Nanay was left on her own, In her letters to me,she wrote of how lonely she was, but I never made the effort to spend more time with her.Nanay died last year, She was 83. After the feral, I

went to our old house.Grandmother had kept so many things from my childhood: the toys; the letters I wrote home in my high school and university years, either asking for more rice or thanking her for sending fruit. Photos of her grandchildren were on display in the living room. When I visited her grave and reflected on all her birthdays I had allowed to pass, I was filled with sorrow.I thought about all the stories she never got a chance to tell me, about her life, about the girl she once had been, about the town I left behind. It occurred to me that perhaps she did not tell me because I did not know how to ask.