“april fool” day two

This piece is a part of my “april fool” series I’m posting throughout the month of April. if you’re confused, you can check out the preface here.

This is a somewhat unexpected heavier piece, but it is dedicated to my dad, my grandma, and most of all to you, grandpa. 

Stephen

by emma lai

Six years has come and gone since I lost one of my personal heroes.

I remember waking up on the Thursday of spring break during eighth grade, and I think it was my brother—but maybe it was my mom—who walked into my room and told me to get dressed to go to my grandparents’ house. I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but my black tee shirt & black maxi skirt with moons printed on it felt heavier as I put them on.

I had never experienced a death so closely, and grief was difficult to even face. I didn’t understand it. I had never truly met it like this. It took me a long time to open up to it & welcome it in as I felt the loss of a hero.

I didn’t know how to tell my friends. I didn’t know how to talk to anyone about how I felt. I knew there were people who understood, but I didn’t care. It didn’t help. I think I spent the better part of a year fighting grief & running from support. 

I used to blame my younger self just a bit for making things harder for me. Sometimes I wished she would have let herself go a bit more, but now I understand. I realize that she is still me, & I know what it’s like to just try to survive as me. She was really doing the best she could. 

I’m still doing the best I can. I think that this year more than ever I’m wishing I could talk to him again. I will never take for granted the gift it was to spend my childhood so close to him, but I wish I could’ve known him as I grew into an adult. I want to ask him about our culture & have him show me the things he loved & I wish I could try more of his food & learn to cook it myself. He is the reason I am very picky about my white rice & the first kitchen appliance I asked for when I moved into my house was a rice cooker. 

I feel connected to him as I try to identify myself as an Asian women amidst horrible & disgusting racism running rampant right now. I wish I could ask him more about it—I think it would be easier if I could—but I know he’s still proud of me nonetheless. I’m so proud of the culture he gave me.

Family can be a messy thread, but as I remember him, I remember why staying close is worth the challenges & complications.

I love you, grandpa. Thanks for showing me sitcoms & good music & good food.