[Previous entry: "It's revolutionary"] [Next entry: "Holiday!"]

11/23/2005: "call from home"

I got a call from my mother in the morning, and I immediately sensed it was not a good news. Otherwise she wouldn't call me 9 o'clock in the morning. I thought it would be about my uncle, who's been counting his last days in bed with cancer. It was actually about his mother- my grandmother. She passed away monday morning. She had Alzheimer and was bed-ridden for many years. She was 93 years old. My mother just came back from a wake, and my father and my cousin were spending the night by the coffin as part of the Japanese funerary ritual. I wasn't very close to her, but it is still sad to lose a family. My mother said she read through some of my grandmother's vast diary she left and found my name. "She wrote, 'I was meaning to write to Etsko so long but it's been already three years..'" I told my mother that she WAS writing to me through my college years in New York. She forgot about it? Maybe it was already a beginning of her disease. My father was keeping vigil by my grandmother all night. He may soon be the only surviving member of his immediate family. I wondered what was going through his mind as I started my day. I'll go buy some insents tomorrow.