Grandma visits

It’s been a crazy couple of weeks, but they’ve been great ones. From celebrating Jeremy’s birthday in the bi-state (that sounds weird), meeting Taryn Wong for the first time, seeing how big Logan Liu has grown up, getting heartbroken by the Knicks, and going on ghetto dates with my lady friend. Interesting stuff going on at work, too, but that’s for another time.

But something happened a 2-3 weeks ago that I’ve been meaning to write about because it was a strange and powerful moment. I kind of need to reflect on it.

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Someone from a team that my department works with suddenly had a death in the family and I had sent her my condolences. I told her I my remaining 3 grandparents all passed away in the last 13 or so months and that I was feeling her pain. In a strange way, it was nice to be able to say that. Didn’t want to offer something pat or glib and because of our families’ losses, I could empathize.

That night, was home and in the kitchen with Char and I realized I had a voicemail. Figured it was my dentist’s assistant nagging me to set up time for my next cleaning. They had called twice before already. I’m proud to say I’m a strong candidate for gum disease and I ask that you all hit the polls and rock the vote.

So I dial up my v-mail, Jerm’s running his circles around me and B’s sound asleep. Multitasking, I’m helping to get dinner ready, Char’s washing up some dishes. Push 1 to listen. Push 4 to skip the intro crap and play the  message.

“Hai hai, shi nai nai…”

It’s my father’s mother. She died in March 2010, I think. My grandmother died a year ago and I could hear her voice. I stumbled where I stood, completely confused. Didn’t realized I saved this message from more than a year ago, and I certainly had not listened to it or actively tried to keep it. Why did it play before the newest message? I thought these things deleted automatically after 21 days? I’ve heard Verizon’s Rosie the Robot voicemail lady say it a billion times. A billion times.

It was a little scary. Kind of like hearing something you truly, never expect to hear, but how often does that happen? It set off so many memories of her and my family, unspooling so quickly that I can only liken it to when you just swerve out of the way from hitting something in your car. Takes the wind out of you but  your momentum keeps you going and you just keep thinking: did that really just happen?

Her voice was strong. Not like her final days when it was hard for her to even lie in bed, my parents and uncles and aunts taking turns to massage her numbing limbs. It was good to hear her this way. I just listened to the rest of it. The rest of her. Then I pushed 9, hoping Rosie will make another exception after 21 days.