Thonau's diary

This diary is made for my lovely honey, thonau. I hope you like it!

Tuesday, June 27, 2006


It's been 55 days since my grandpa passed away. Last thursday was a 50-day-memorial at my house and at the pagoda. I missed all that. I even missed the moment he left the world, and the funeral.

I have been absurdly normal for the last 2 months. The only time I really cried was the day I heard the news. And actually, grandpa was already in his "last home" then. I was not told about his death until my final exams were over. That was his last wish to my family. He could not say anything about me when asked but cried. And the image of my grandpa crying on the hospital bed, really skinny and tired, was flying in my mind anytime I think about him. But I just can't cry. Part of the reason is I can not believe it's true. Maybe I was not there the minute he passed away. Maybe I was not taking care of him in his last days in this world. But even grandma and mom and aunt Chau can not believe in this reality either. They thought he was just gone somewhere. No one in my family can ever accept the fact that grandpa will never be with us anymore. I won't be able to see him the next time I am home. No one will listen to me talking about my French professor, or the cool instruments we got in our department, or join me in the politics talks. No one will be there in our meals to ask how everyone's doing in the day, and talked eagerly about random things that bring the whole family together. It's just impossible

The entire family was there when grandpa said his last words. Some 40 people, daddy said. Everyone, but me, the girl grandpa has taught from the first alphabet letter to the elegant and romantic French poems; the girl that he made memorizing an entire kid's English dictionary in one day; the girl that he puts so much hope in, with all his caring and love. I missed an entire chapter of his life, not knowing the feelings he went through and the pains he had to suffer. Some 300 people attended grandpa's funeral, I must be the only one who was not there. When I get home this Christmas, I will just see a cold, non-feeling, souless, cruel piece of stone on which engraved his name. Never can I see his smiling face again.

All that, I still can't cry. I has been so normal, so ignorant, so cold, at the same time so hurted. I just can't express my feeling. I just can't say anything. I tried to be calm anytime I call home, ensuring my family that I am ok, and that they should get relieved since grandpa was so when he died. He had fought against diabetes for the last 16 years, and it's just time he had to go. I have hold my tears inside, wishing that grandpa is happy and relieved whenever he is, and that I will try to accomplish the goals that he has placed hopes on for me.

And I did not cry, at all. Until the minute I went to Wal-mart and saw sugar-free candy...