Recently, my life path crossed the life path of a man named Trung Huang while I was in the Charlotte airport. Mr. Huang is an older, Chinese gentleman, who works in one of the shops in the airport. I was talking to a co-worker of Mr. Huang’s when he came over to listen in on the conversation. I looked at him and smiled. He smiled back, revealing front teeth that were chipped in such a way that made them pointy like a snake’s tongue … the sight of which, made me sad. Mr. Huang’s two front teeth were broken just like my grandmother’s two front teeth had been. He also has stark white hair, that is stick straight and “afro-y” at the same time and I imagined that if I were to touch it, it would be as soft as cotton, just like my grandmother’s.
My grandmother is passed now, but when she was alive and well, we were very close. I miss her. She was beautiful, strong, quiet, very keen and witty. I also came to understand that she was a very passionate woman, but very few would know it. Once it had been determined that neither her spirit nor her will could be controlled by a man, she was subjected to brutal coercion; a fallback position used by many individuals with low self worth and weak intellect. I witnessed the brutality myself many times. Towards the end of her life, when she developed Alzheimer’s and no longer recognized me as her own, I wondered if the force of some of the blows she sustained caused her condition. But this narrative is not about domestic violence or Alzheimer’s. It’s about the last memory of my grandmother and me that I hold close.
My grandmother was spending the weekend with me one spring before she took a turn for the worse. We were sitting at my kitchen table talking and laughing … about what … I don’t remember, because though she was still lively, she was incoherent. I have a dog. His name is Coco. The dog, which my grandmother had seen several times, walked into the room and she said “Oh, you have a dog! What’s his name?” I answered, “Coco”. We continued talking. A few minutes later the dog comes into the room again. “Oh, you have a dog! What’s his name?” I answered again, “Coco”. We continued talking. When the dog comes into the kitchen a third time and she asks the same question with the same tone and pitch as before, I look at her and say “Grandma, I have an idea!” I ran to the pantry and pulled out my can of Nestle’s Rich Hot Cocoa Mix and showed it to her. I said, “Read the can”. She read the can, “Nestle’s Rich Hot Cocoa Mix”. Then I said, “That’s the dog’s name! Coco! So, the next time you see him you’ll be able to remember his name by looking at the can of cocoa mix!” She was all excited and laughing (at my animation). So … we continued talking and sure enough … when the dog walked back into the kitchen she says again, “Oh, you have a dog! What’s his name?” I grab the can of cocoa mix and say “Read the can, grandma. You know his name. Read the can, and tell me what his name is!” She reads the can a couple of times very slowly, “Nestle’s Rich Hot Cocoa Mix”. “Ok” I said, “tell me what his name is” and I could see the wheels turning in her head. She looked at me after a few moments and said, “Richard??!” I was stunned silent for a moment and then I laughed - we laughed - so hard!!!
The memory still makes me laugh hard. And I marvel at the human brain. My grandmother’s brain was all but gone, however, reading the words on that can of hot chocolate, she knew that the only word that could be the name of a person was “Rich”. But, she didn’t say Rich. She said Richard. It blew me away then and it still puzzles me now.
Richard! That’s so funny!
Bisous!
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