From the first three years of our lives, both my brother and I were raised by my grandmother--part of the reason was that, when my brother was born, my grandfather had just passed away, so my brother could keep grandma company. When I was born, it wouldn't have been long before my brother had to start kindergarten, so I would also be able to keep her company.
Back then, grandma lived further away, in the countryside of Yilan. Afterwards, she moved closer to Taipei, and both my brother and I would visit her almost every weekend, as well as vacations (spring break, summer vacation, winter vacation, etc.); it's a safe bet to say that if anyone knows how I feel about grandma, it would be my brother, and vice versa.
Grandma always took good care of me, and always prepared my favorite food for me--my love for certain vegetables is in no small part thanks to her cultivation of my tastes.
When we came to the US, the person I missed the most was my grandmother. I found out from my aunts that at the airport, she kept a brave face in front of us, so that we wouldn't make a fuss and not make our flights, but as soon as we got out of sight, grandma wept. The thought of this always makes me cry.
My only comfort now is that when she passed away, it was peacefully in her sleep, and that she did get to spend time with her first great-grandchild--Kaelyn, my niece.
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