Yesterday evening, my mom steamed some red bean buns and asked me to take some to my grandmother's house. Since both my grandmother and grandfather are already in their 80s, meals are prepared by my mom and a few aunts on a rotating basis, and today it was my younger aunt's turn.
Upon entering the house, the elderly couple was watching TV, and the show was "The Grand Mansion." After suffering from gas poisoning a few years ago, my grandmother's hearing began to deteriorate, and in recent years her memory has also worsened significantly. Most of the time when I visit, she can remember my name, but occasionally she forgets. When she saw me come in, my grandmother waved her hand and called me to sit beside her. I explained to my grandfather why I was there, placed the buns in the basket, and sat down next to my grandmother.
Since my mom had also made red bean soup at home, I got up after a while and explained to my grandfather that I wanted to leave. Just as I stood up, I leaned over to my grandmother's ear and told her that we had also made dinner at home, so I was going back to eat. My grandmother seemed to understand the gist of it and asked why I had to leave, saying there were buns here and urging me to stay and eat. She firmly pulled me back down to sit, and I smiled at my grandfather, feeling it was inappropriate to leave abruptly, so I sat back down.
My grandmother began to repeat what she had just said, that there was food here and I should eat before leaving.
I stayed with my grandmother for a while longer, and as it got darker outside, I leaned over again and told her that dinner was ready at home and I needed to go back. Upon hearing this, my grandmother took my hand and held it tightly, repeating several times that I should stay. I also reiterated a few times that dinner was ready at home before she finally began to relent.
"Then will you come back in the afternoon?" My grandmother had mixed up the time again, mistaking evening for noon. Explaining to her that it wasn't noon was not simple. Due to the aging of her brain, it's common for her to forget the time of day, and it's become more frequent in recent years. Sometimes she wakes up from a nap thinking it's morning, or after a midday doze, she thinks it's evening.
At that moment, my younger aunt, who was in the kitchen preparing dinner, came out. Seeing me struggling to explain, she quickly said, "He's here, he'll come back in the afternoon." Finally, I was able to "escape," and my grandmother released my hand.
Although my grandmother is often confused, some facts, like the current time being evening and that it might be a few days before I can visit again, don't really need to be taken seriously. Yet every time, I want to clarify things for her, to explain that it's evening now, I'm going back to have dinner, and I will come again in a few days. But this time, I didn't say much more, just said goodbye to my younger aunt and grandfather and left.
As I got into the elevator, the feeling of my grandmother tightly holding my hand suddenly reminded me of my grandmother who passed away many years ago.
My grandmother has been gone for nearly ten years. At that time, I had no excuse; I was just young and didn't want to take the bus back to see her. I would only return for holidays and my grandparents' birthdays, and usually, I would leave right after lunch.
My grandmother had earlier become ill, and half of her body was weak. She could only make simple sounds when speaking, but she would always hold my hand tightly and say something loudly. I couldn't understand, and in fact, no one could. Only the adults would guess what my grandmother meant and translate it for me, sentence by sentence. Looking back now, it was all about encouraging me to study hard. The few words my grandmother could say were "Beijing," as she wanted me to go to school there. Now at 25, I see that there is no hope of going to Beijing.
Suddenly, a thought struck me: the elderly understand their children and grandchildren throughout their lives, reasoning with them for a lifetime, yet only after becoming as confused as my grandmother do they have the opportunity to express their true feelings. The "reasoning" that there is food at home means I should go back to eat; my grandfather understood me and was persuading my grandmother to let me go. My grandmother, in her confusion, did not understand; she was "not reasoning" and wanted me to stay for dinner, saying I should stay and eat.
She has grown old; I have merely gone out to attend university.
She has long been old.