By Chris
January 11, 2020 • 7 min read
I struggled with the title for this. "My birthday in Bangkok"? "My grandparents"? "Goodbye"? Something more deep and obscure like talking about facets of a prism? Eventually it all seemed a bit flat, so I went with description.
This morning I woke up to a text that my Grandma, Emiko Ambo, had passed away. She had dementia for years prior to this and was at the end stages to the point of being unable to do or say much. This was not a surprise but I was still surprised at how much the news hurt despite the long gradual journey of grief in the last couple of years.
My Grandfather, Genshyo Ambo, had passed away in November of 2018 about a year ago.
My first feeling upon reading the text was a numbness. Then I cried, a lot. Brandon held me. I called my mom. I talked to my cousin. Then I realized I need to go to McDonald's in the near future. Perhaps not today, but maybe tomorrow. Grandma and Grandpa loved going to McDonald's because it was such a good deal, and they'd get the 65 cent senior coffee there too. They would treat me to a happy meal after we all walked down the hill from their Mercer Island house to "downtown" Mercer Island. It would be a wonderful meal. So yes, I am going to need to go to McDonald's soon. Luckily I'm sure Bangkok has a McDonald's.
Let me clarify that I don't want to idealize my grandparents or pretend they were perfect people. They were not. Nobody is. However, I can only speak to my personal experiences of those two unique human beings. I know they loved me very deeply, and I loved them so much. I want to commemorate what they meant, looked like, and felt like to their granddaughter, me. It is just one facet of them, one from my perspective.
Their Mercer Island house is the setting of many of my dreams. It is sunny, warm, comforting, and safe. The sunlight streams in through their floor-to-ceiling windows in the upstairs living room, their white leather couches arranged a little differently every time I dream, as they were inclined to keep rearranging furniture monthly. Their gas fireplace is off since it's sunny. The mantel and shelves have many photos of their kids and grandkids.
Off to the side of the living room sits a large and grand dining table that has been there since I can remember. They have one of those old-style wooden china cabinets filled with, well, china. An open entryway leads to the kitchen, which has a small kitchen table covered with a checkered cloth, and a couple rather ugly looking round gray ceramic containers for sugar and I think one holds Folger's coffee. There is a rather older TV blaring the news perpetually. Over the kitchen sink sits a little figurine, I think of a Peanuts character, at some kind of stand. In my dream, it feels as though my grandparents have just left the house temporarily, and I have no anxiety that they won't return.
Both of my parents worked while I was growing up, so my grandparents ended up babysitting me a lot. Mom would drop me off early in the mornings before she left for work, and I'd watch Sailor Moon in my grandparents' living room before school. Grandma would walk up the hill with me to West Mercer Elementary to drop me off. I would sometimes push her from behind (to help her) and she would laugh. She had hair in short curls she would constantly dye black by herself in the very old very deep basement sink.
Around September when school would start, we would all go blackberry picking together. Sometimes it would be in the trails right across from their house, but sometimes we'd go farther out like around a park on the Island. Then Grandma would make blackberry pie with the loot. I would watch and try to help, but I never really picked it up from her. One time I asked her to make mochi again so I could learn, and they graciously did just that, soaking the rice extensively, mashing it all up, and showing me how to form the mochi balls while still hot (it kinda burned a bit). Grandma also showed me how to make zenzai, a type of sweet soup made of An (sweet red bean) and in which you can put mochiko balls. I cried when I ate it in Japan a few months ago.
My grandparents were frugal people, probably related to growing up around World War II. I tried to interview them once about their experience in Minadoka internment camp, but all Grandma would talk about was that the food was good. When I was around, they would always try to feed me. However, Grandma would get grumpy if I didn't eat the egg yolk (I dislike them), or if I tried to eat nori (dried seaweed) alone instead of with rice (wasteful, needs to have some rice to maximize value).
Despite this frugality, Grandma was always trying to convince Grandpa to give me ten dollars to go spend at the mall, and this even continued into when I was in college and came to visit. When I was a kid, Uncle Stan was around and I distinctly recall her urging him to give me a quarter since "you're going to be a doctor anyways". This makes me crack a smile now as I think back on it. At the time, she didn't know I would follow in his footsteps and become a doctor too. Once she found out I got into medical school, she kept encouraging me, saying "I know you'll have a good bedside manner and treat old-timers like me well". As a psychiatrist, I now treat some people with beginning stages of dementia, and it strikes a chord within me. There are plenty of days I feel tired and dry of compassion, and I hope that I can remember my Grandma's hope and confidence in my bedside manner.
Grandma loved going to the thrift store at the bottom of the hill their house stood on. She loved the good deals. I'm not sure if Grandpa enjoyed it too, or if he merely went because Grandma went, but they made that 5-minute trek at least three times a week. I spent a good deal of my childhood in that building. I also remember a lot of time at the Factoria mall with them, with Grandma shopping and Grandpa dragging along a big ol' history book to read. We all really liked this one Japanese restaurant called "Oishii" that has since closed. One of the last memories I have of them together, when they both still seemed to have most of their memories/personality intact, was at Factoria mall. I was visiting from medical school, and took them to eat at a conveyer belt sushi place at the mall, since Oishii had closed. Grandpa seemed a bit impressed by the conveyor belt.
When I was in middle and high school, I still hadn't quite figured out the whole responsibility thing, and would frequently forget key items like my clarinet. I can't even remember how many times I would call my grandparents and tell them my sob story, and they would drive my clarinet all the way to my school. They also gave me a key to their house since early childhood, and stowed another one behind a piece of old decrepit wood in their garage shed, saying I could come over whenever I wanted. That meant a lot to me.
Grandma would call me "glamorous" if I dressed up. Once an adult, she began to scout the areas for boys I could date. One hilarious time she and Grandpa insisted I go with them to a bank on Mercer Island and exclaimed "isn't that boy a nice young man!". When I moved to Texas and came back to visit, she would always inquire about my dating life and said "I just want to see you get married". I did find it refreshing that Grandpa would only focus on how medicine was going. One of the last times I visited them in their Mercer Island house, I showed them a picture of my new boyfriend Brandon. By the time we got married, they were not doing well enough to be able to come. This is just how life happened, but I do feel sad Grandma couldn't get her wish.
Going back to my dream, I exit Grandma and Grandpa's house through the front door and cool air envelopes my skin, contrasting with the sun's rays. There's a picnic table and bench that I sit at, right in front of their house. The garden is abloom with beautiful colors of reds, pinks, yellows, and green, lovingly cared for by my grandparents. The air smells sweet. There are a couple of huge rocks dotting the garden, and I smile when I remember how I used to climb them and feel like I was "King of the garden". I also remember how often I thought weeding was the epitome of boring. The carport is to my right, providing a square of shade that their small grey truck rests in.
I yawn, stretch, and wake up as the dream fades. I feel such sadness in missing them. Sobbing, crying, snotty, ugly-cry kind of sadness. However, I also think the fact they helped create this safe place in my dreams/heart/mind is amazing and a blessing. I will always carry their love inside me and am grateful to them for loving me.
January 25th to February 20th After our brief stay in Singapore, we more or less spent the next month (from January 25th to February 20th) on various Thai islands. It was a blast and a really unique experience. Looking back on it I'm probably struck the most by how different the experience was on each of the islands. We also had some interesting experiences getting to and from the different…