Written in the floor of an airport in Malaysia, a bus and coffee shop in Indonesia, and a village in India
My grandmothers had a huge influence on my life. This is something I didn’t realize until they were on their deathbed or already gone. My grandfathers were gone long ago so I don’t know much about them All I know is through stories. They were gentle, kind, and passive men overtaken by the powerful women in their lives. They died, not naturally, but one from a stroke and the other from a heart attack.
My mother was close with her father just as I am with mine. At the time of his death, she was sitting by his side as he breathed his last. Although my mother immigrated to the United States after he passed away, the moments with her father are rooted in the way we were raised.
The sacrifices our parents made for us as immigrants. The lives they constructed to ensure their future generations never suffered. We have and always will, I’ve realized, remain at the epicenter of their dreams. We remain at the center of theirs so they can remain on the outskirts of ours.