Grandparents: Maternal grandpa

I never thought I will write about my grandparents. However, I saw a post that tracked back a memory of a grandparents and remembered my own grandparents. So, let me start of my maternal grandfather.

By memory, I think he was born before the World War II. He was educated in a strict authoritarian system where boys were more important than girls. He married to my grandmother who was a few years older than him. He than raised three boys and three girls. He knew the importance of education so he tried his best to provide education to his children.

I can imagine feeding such large family wasn’t easy at all. It is rare to hear stories about when they were young but my mum and aunties once told me that they were raised in poverty. They didn’t have much to eat. Each day, just before the local vegetable market close, they had to pick up and collect those veges thrown on the floor. That’ll become their meals.

He wasn’t a fair person. He invested and devoted all to his first son then his first grandson. He treated everyone else as less important. I couldn’t meet with him often but when I did, he tried his best to accommodate us. Although I didn’t speak my true mother language, he spoke my second language so we were able to communicate in that way.

One of the vivid memory of my grandpa is to wake up very early in the morning and went for mountain climbing. It was unusual experience. We then went for a breakfast.

When he knew I like a particular cuisine, he bought that same cuisine three days in a row. I had to tell him that I really enjoyed it but no more.

I could see that he really loved grandma. They were yelling at each other all the time but that was a way they communicated. They were always together no matter where they go.

I remember few years before he passed away, he visited us. They were getting older but they visited us. I was very rounded then but he asked my height and weight. He was surprised at first but he smiling and very proudly seeing us growing.

When I think back, he probably was the first one who taught me the fighting spirit, never be defeated. He told me to stand tall with pride.

Although he passed away few years ago, I remember him as a man who lived for his family.

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