missing your warmth

Grandma, you used to whisper to me every night, "Daniel, I can see you growing up and becoming rich and successful, when you do that, maybe then you can buy grandpa and I a car."

When I learned that your vision was deteriorating, I drew myself into denial hoping, wishing, praying that you would remain young forever. Now I've realized that our time together is limited. You've always wanted the best for me, constantly questioning me on my future and wellbeing. So, Grandma, now when you can still see, please look with me and see my dream with me.

This morning, before it was bright enough to see, I took a walk through the chilly, lonely sidewalks. I've learned that the world is a cold place. Everyone will be resting in their own homes with their own selfish dreams. As I walked, trudging through the deep snow, the lack of people and warmth frightened me. I was awake while the world was sleeping. A moment of epiphany hit me. For all the obstacles life shoves in our path, we can either choose to weep at the unfortunateness of the pile of snow slapped in our path, or we can trudge forward, step after gruesome step, and create our own path through that wretched, freezing terrain. Sure, it will be cold and lonely, with the occasional frostbite whipped at your face or the freezing ice tumbling onto your legs, filling them with dampness and a shock of cold pain, but through it all, we create a path for those behind to follow, literally in our footsteps so they will have it easier for their lives. But this is for sure, someone has to be the first to walk through the unknown, the untouched blanket of white snow. Every time we fall on the unstable, slippery grounds, we must get back up so we can continue making that path that those we love can follow.

Grandma, I want to be an entrepreneur, the most successful, inspiring, and crazy businessman to walk the earth. I want to be the one who shapes the world, the one who is criticized and called insane, but who's ideas nevertheless leaves a spark inside people, slowly chewing away at their beliefs and challenging their initially stable worldviews. And one day, I hope those ideas will blossom and generate a blanket of change across the world. And I will carry the torch that Grandpa and you left to my father and mother, and take it from them and continue living out your legacy. I will leave a blazing trail across the icy world and leave a fiery passion across all my peers. Through the letdowns of life, I will burn right through them, because you have given me so much strength and character to flame them with.

I want to live my life freely, free from the restrictive binding laws of society, and free from the grasp of social acceptance. I want to travel across the world, living in Airbnb's and experience all the richness of life, the highs and the lows. I want Life to think that I robbed her and of all her richness, that I took from her everything I can possibly take so I can die with a smirk on my face knowing that I didn't obey her laws, and I became the man I dreamed of becoming. For months, I want to live homeless nights, and experience the epitome of gratitude and appreciation, eating hot and ready every night because that's all I can afford. Other months I want to climb the mountains of China and see for myself the views that only a few have the luck of experiencing. I want to find the obscure and secluded family ramen shops on some broken down alley of Japan and learn all I can about their story.

Grandma, I want your life to be as rich as possible. While you can still see, I want you to witness how far your family has come. From the dirt-poor farms of China, the starving cries of those who hardly appear human, from my mom stealing medicine to feed her hunger, my dad stealing apples from our neighbors, and the late night candle light my father used to work his way out of poverty. Look how far we come now, from my childhood of that tiny apartment on the highest floor of the building, the crazy nights with my four brother cousins each sharing views a few years apart, those morning breakfasts we had to trudge across town for, because of it's the fair price. When I refused to go to daycare, you used that wretched whip made of tree branches to beat me. I've learned the hard way that love hurts. Look at us now, with our air conditioned homes, my father's multimillion company, my sister and I's top notch education. We have enough money to take you anywhere in the world Grandma, to places you've never even heard of when you were a child, to experience vacations of any scale.

And when you can no longer see and you lose that vessel of experiencing life, my cousins will tell you their life stories, their philosophies, their jokes and make you laugh. My sister will talk to you in her half understandable Chinese. I will play to you piano that you insisted I had learned. I can let you hear the most beautiful melodies I can express so that you can be proud of helping me learn all this from the initial C-scales and Joy To the World.

And when you cannot hear, I want you to feel the warmth from your family, the wealth of goodness that you've poured out. Those aching bones of yours that carried your siblings on your back, that cut down trees and worked long hours in the fiery sun, can finally rest. Know that with them, our family has thrived.

From you and Grandpa, to my mother and father, to my sister and I, we've been separated by the gap of generations, but we've also been tied together by the thread of family and our beliefs. We've never been the people to settle with life, to look at the world and say, "I'm satisfied with the way things are". I'm sure that we can all agree that we "want so many things in life" (Hansberry). Grandma, I want you to feel completely satisfied with your life, so that you can look back and see the family and the legacy you've left behind. I want to help myself and the ones I love find fulfillment. And when the snow falls again, because it will, we will be tied together with the passion and love of family and we'll burn it away with our unshakeable affection for one another. This is my dream. This is my life story. I promise you, Grandma, I won't give up.