Me and My Grandfather

“Let us cherish and love old age;
for it is full of pleasure if one knows how to use it.
Fruits are most welcome when almost over.”
(Seneca)

Pasar Ramadhan. Penang. Malaysia, May 2019

To be honest, I just don't like carrying my grandfather around.

It's a terrible bore. My mom always begs me.

“Come on, take Grandpa to the market, he likes it so much!”

“Ayuh! Take grandfather to the river, take him to the mosque!”

Bring him over and over.

I always hope my little friends don't meet us.

They always make fun of me, I who have to pull grandfather with my hand to make him walk. He wasn't a donkey either!

Then, most of the time, I don't even know if he understands me when I speak.

I told my mom, I'm afraid to go out with him. I always have to be careful otherwise I lose him in the crowd of the market, or a car hits him on the street. Not to mention all the times he tripped and fell!

Go get him up! I'm only 10 years old, I'm not Superman!

 

Nothing... My mother always insists.

Every now and then she tells me about when she was a child, when she still lived in Kota Bharu, in a small village.

These were not easy times, there were many brothers and sisters and the money was never enough. It wasn't easy going to school, and college was a dream, mostly for boys only.

“But my father knew how much I wanted to study: I wanted to become a doctor, perhaps because your grandmother was diabetic when she was young, and in my heart, I would have wanted to take care of her better. Instead, her illness killed her young and your grandfather was alone with us all.”

Mom tells me while she fillets the fish in the kitchen.

“How did you manage, then, to become a doctor at the hospital?”

I ask her as I occasionally glance at my grandfather sitting in the living room watching television.

She turns to me, her sweaty forehead and half-black and white hair stuck to her cheeks, and she smiles. “Thanks to grandpa!”

 

Every time I see my mom smile like that, I laugh, because she is missing a tooth right in front. But then she gets offended and throws things in my head.

She has told me this story a thousand times, but I let her tell it, I know she is happy like this. Meanwhile, I think about the homework I have to do.

Grandfather worked in the fields at the time. But he also had a passion for electronics, he liked to fix things, perhaps because he hadn't been able to fix his wife.

When mom finished school, she began to feel sad, because she knew she would have to get married and give up her dreams, while her siblings could choose between getting married or going to college.

Every night she cried on the pillow.

Then one night, Grandpa walked into her room, sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled out an envelope.

My mom opened it and there was a pile of bills inside.

She looked at Grandpa with red eyes, without understanding.

Yes, yes, I know... now I know it by heart!

“…Then your grandfather stroked my hair and told me there was no greater joy for him than seeing her daughter chasing her dreams. He had not been able to go to school, it was another time, he worked and married young. He was convinced that his ignorance had killed my mother. Every time he prayed, he asked forgiveness for it. Even if he had no fault, other than having loved his wife madly.

He told me that every time he fixed a radio, television, or washing machine, for years, he saved money.

They would have been for my university. To shelter the mothers and wives of other grandparents like him.”

Here, at this point there is not once that mom stops talking, she turns away and continues to cook. I know that she cries. Then I get up and go away.

 

I usually like to sit on the floor at my grandfather's feet. Watching television together, at least I don't have to drag him around.

In fact, I almost like it.

He occasionally makes me pat pat on the head.

“What dreams do you have, Fiqr?”

He asks me. “But, what do I know? I am still young. I'd like to be a footballer.”

He always smiles, with small eyes, and makes me pat pat on my hair.

 

To be honest he makes me tender. He seems to have a smaller brain than me. Hihihi...

“There is nothing more important than dreams.”

He tells me. So, I turn around and look at him from below, in his worn brown and green sarong and thin glasses.

“Grandpa, a friend of mine at school has a PlayStation that doesn't work well. Would you be able to repair it?”

Grandpa takes off his glasses, smiles big, “Of course! What a pleasure!”

He says while wiping eyeglasses with sarong. 

 

“You can't always fix things, but we have to try. Above all, the things we love the most. And if we are not able, then we must make sure that there are other people who can repair for us.”

He tells me in a hoarse voice.

“These are the dreams you were talking about, Opah?”

 

He nods his head, puts on his glasses and sighs.

The elderly never understand when they cry, because their eyes are always wet.

So, I think of my mother, I see her in the kitchen where she cooks and hums.

 

And I feel to love my grandfather a little more.

In fact, tomorrow I'll take him fishing in the river!

And who cares if my friends make fun of me, then I want to see when they come looking for me to get things fixed! Ishh...

 

Yes, yes, tomorrow we go to the river, so also my mom is happy.

 Italian version