The Sun Went Down

9:56 am, Sept.3, 2018. I saw the message sent by my mom 39 minutes ago, that my grandfather was gone.

The night before I receive the message, I was applying a strong hydrogen facial mask and chatting with my cousin about the cheaper price of the Vans and Nike in the states. My phone played the song of BOL4 which was inserted between my sheet and quilt. Standing beside my bed, I was trapped by unpacking clothes, food, and school supplies from a 28-inch piece of luggage which I brought from China.  Finally, at about 12:30 am, I finished with the dorm move in process. After zipping up the empty luggage and putting it under my bed, I went towards my sink and washed the dust which stuck to my hand. The night was charming without the chaos from the crowds, this moment of peace and quiet is familiar, and it seemed like I had been in this situation before, which felt weird. Under the light yellow fairy lights, I sat on my chair, knees surrounded by arms, and the framed picture of my grandparents was sitting there peacefully on my desk, like a kind old man. The liver cancer was devouring my grandpa both physically and spiritually for seven months already. He could barely eat and keep himself awake. Most of the time, he was in lethargy. I touched his photo with my finger, whisked the dirt and hopefully kicked away the pain from him, held the photo to the closest place of my heart. “Goodnight,” I said. I set the alarm for 10:35 in the morning, and went to bed.

That night, I didn’t dream anything, a common and peaceful night as usual. The next day, I got a phone call from Annie, my friend. She was telling me the experience that she was facing after transferring to a new school. I was totally sobered by the phone call, and I felt glad to talk to my best friend. The thing I didn’t know is my grandpa was gone in the past two hours, and I hadn’t seen my mum’s massage. After hanging up the phone, I got on Wechat to check messages, and I saw my mum said, “Grandpa is gone.” My heart, much to my surprise, was peaceful, and I sat up on bed straight and looked at my pink quilt. I grabbed my phone and opened the chatting page of my mom repeatedly.  “What does it mean that my grandpa was gone?” I asked myself. I turned back and the photo on the desk was still sitting there quietly. I brought it to my bed. It was same as usual. Nothing changed. He was there, smiling at me. There were no tears in my eyes, not at all. In a daze, my mind reflected a blank.

The fall weather depressed me, cloudy and grey. By standing at the window of the dorm, I could see the black rubber roof and a few weeds were lying above it. I pulled open the window, and when I touched the dead weed which still had the greenish color on it, tears ran out of my eyes along my checks, chin, then dropped in the window frame and blended with the dirt.

I took the flight and went back home immediately. The twelve hours tortured me. Every feeling and moment that I spent with my grandpa jumped out in my brain. The moment I saw he was waiting for me after school outside the house; the moment we had lunch and dinner together every day; the moment he was teaching me how to sing “ Gongxifacai” during New Year when I was five, the moment which every time he picked up my phone call and called my nickname Nene...they were so vivid and heartbreaking. I tried my best to control the tears to not come out of my eyes and release them when it was dark in the main cabin.

My uncle and aunt picked me up at the airport. We drove back to the countryside. That is what we called fallen leaves returned to the root.  At about ten thirty in the night, by following the familiar path which leads to the house where I had attended my great grandmother's funeral, and the place where my grandpa was raised and lived when he was young. It was dark and quiet around the house. I saw a lot of people sat in the yard. They were staring at me when I walked in and saw my mom with inflamed eyes, white cloth belt and white shoes. I asked her where is my grandpa. She said nasally, “ He is in that room.” I walked in there and saw the coffin. He was laying there quietly with the sense of peace, like the time he was sleeping in the hospital, but the difference was that there was a cover above him, and tons of things for sacrificing around him, flowers, meat, paper money.

My tears rushed out, with the songs of the Buddhism played by a recorder which the monk songs at the daytime. I screamed without sound. His face was covered with a towel. His hand was black and yellowish caused by the considerable number of injections of the medicine, and he was not wearing socks. My mom asked me to do worship for my grandpa and told him I am back. “Grandpa, I am back to see you. Can you see me from another world?” I sobbed and asked. My dear grandpa, I just wish you have no pain in another world, and if we get a chance, we hope we can still be grandpa and granddaughter. I stared at the coffin in a daze. The memories are the most efficient weapon to torture a person, and now they came to me. They are fragmentary, but pricked my heart, the memories from the past, time I spent with my grandpa and moments I remembered intruded my mind. Every time he peeled an apple for me, he always cut the core off and dug out the bad part, then gave it to me; every time he cooked the pork with the brown sauce, he asked me to have more of pork, because he believed little kids love the sweet taste; every time he picked me up from the after school camp; every time I walked on the road in front of the kitchen in my grandparents’ house, I could hear a sound “da” my grandpa was turning on the gas cooker again in order to warm up the soup for us, so we can have hot soup instead of having cold soup when we are eating. And most impressive thing is, the days before I left for the US in China. The last week before I left, he was pretty weak already. He couldn’t eat anything, even drink, the time he was awake every day was about ten minutes, and fortunately, when I went to the hospital that day, he was awake. His eyes were merely opened, and my mom was feeding him with some kind of nutrient medical liquid with the injection syringe without the needle. He was so venerable and skinny, and the bones were covered barely with skin that had the color of unnatural yellow. His belly was huge. My grandma said that looks like a woman who is pregnant for eight months, and on his arm with congealed blood under the skin, there was an injection machine.

 I looked at him, and tears ruined my face, I covered my mouth and tried not to cry in front of him. My aunt said, “Dad, Meimei is here to see you.” He nodded his head. And then I couldn’t hold in my tears anymore. I never got to so close to death and facing the death take over someone’s life I deeply loved. I hadn’t fully prepared yet to face the farewell between us. I prayed to the god to give him more time in this world, more time with his family and descendants. “Don’t cry before your grandpa, he will be sad.” my aunt said secretly. I turned around and faced the city outside of the 12th floor. The sky was high and blended with pink and purple. The sun was orange and the powerful, one fourth of the sun was covered by a building to the right of me, and little by little, the sun went down.

Quietly, my grandpa went back to sleep, and I left. Next day morning, it was the Aug.28th, I would take the flight at 12:20 pm. That morning I went to the hospital to see my grandpa. He was rarely awake that morning. I told him, “Grandpa, I was here for you,” he nodded his head again, the last time. I could never say that I would leave for the US today to him. I was still trying to deceive myself and also him. We would not be apart for a long time, and I would see him during Christmas holiday. As the time passed, I had to go, I held his hand for the last time and looked at him for the last time before I walked out of the room. I didn’t say goodbye to him, because I believe we will definitely see each other again soon.

However now, standing in front of the coffin, I looked at him. I couldn’t believe that was my grandpa laid there. My mind went back and forth, sometimes I was clear that he was dead, but sometimes after crying for a long time, I was feeling like he was not my grandpa but someone else’s. I was so confused, I didn’t know what was going on. The second day and third day tons of events going on for the funeral ceremony. My eyes were not able to cry anymore. And the last day, cremation. The coffin went in there and a wooden box came out.

“He is going back home where his parents are waiting for him,” my cousin said.