Yogurt Drinks

"Go say goodbye to your grandfather," said his dad as he loaded up the last of the suitcases into the van. The little boy, only eight years young, walked back into the house towards the dingy stuffy room he usually tries to avoid. Half holding his breath, the boy tiptoed into the room. His grandfather lied in bed, in his usual state of being not quite awake but far from sleep.

"Bye grandpa."

The elderly man turned in bed and looked over. Despite being over eighty years old, there was still a dignified fire burning in his eyes. The boy waved briefly, and began heading back outside to the van. Before hopping into the backseat he opened up his fanny pack, making sure all of his most prized toys and possessions were coming with him to the new world. Looking back at the house one last time, he noticed something odd - his grandfather got out of bed, made his way to the front door, and silently watched as the van pulled away. He thought this rather odd and uncharacteristic behavior, but unfortunately the naivety of youth made him oblivious to the gravity of the situation. Little did the boy know he would be responsible for his grandfather's death.

It would be many years later before the boy realized what he had done. Even though it wasn't his fault, a lingering sense of guilt creeps up each time he reflects upon that moment at the front door of his old house in Taiwan. If only he had said more than just "bye grandpa," he might feel less guilty. But then again, what could he have said? What are the appropriate words to tell someone, who dedicated their entire existence towards your happiness, that you were leaving permanently? If he could relive that moment again, he might have at least shed a tear. Perhaps some visual pathos could convey what simple words could not.

He realizes now that he was the reason grandpa stayed alive. It was a full time job, walking the boy to school, sneaking him a few coins to buy toys or snacks, keeping the fridge stocked with yogurt drinks, and making sure the boy was healthy and fat. The reason he sat on the couch watching weird Chinese operas on TV in the afternoon was so he could catch the moment the boy returned from school to promptly begin doting on him. Of course being eight years old, he could not truly appreciate how blessed he was to have grandpa around. Instead he was always embarrassed when the old man would constantly spit on the street as they walked to school, eagerly anticipating the moment when he could wiggle free from grandpa's hand and run away into the school. He was too young to know any better.

After a few years in the United States, the boy went back to Taiwan to visit relatives. He walked into his old house, everything a bit smaller now than what he remembered. His grandfather was sleeping in the same dingy stuffy room, unaware that his grandson had returned for a couple days. The room's moldy stench had gotten stronger over the years.

"Hi grandpa."

His grandfather turned in bed and their eyes met. The dignified fire in his eyes that once burned strong was now a wisp of smoke, and he seemed merely a shell of a man. After his grandson left, there was no reason for him to leave the room anymore, and slowly he became more and more secluded, and with that seclusion his life slowly drained away. Seeing his grandson for the first time in four years, however, rekindled a little bit of life back in the old man. He got up out of bed and left the room for the first time in weeks. He kept the fridge stocked with yogurt drinks, and gave the boy some coins to buy toys and snacks. The boy downed the yogurt drinks with zeal, although the coins no longer held much value since he was now in the business of American dollars. For two days, grandpa was alive again, and for two days he had a purpose again. Those two days would be the last time he saw his grandfather alive.

At the funeral service in China three years later, the boy, now a young man of sixteen years, walked up to the casket to pay his final respects. He looked down at his grandfather, sleeping soundly, the fire now completely extinguished. If his grandfather were to wake up from this slumber by some supernatural means, the first thing on his mind would probably be to find the nearest convenience store and buy some yogurt drinks for his grandson. He couldn't help but smile at this thought, as a tear rolled down his cheek and onto the ground.

Homer: "Marge, please. Old people don't need companionship, they need to be isolated and studied so it can be determined what nutrients they have that can be extracted for our personal use!"

Marge: "Homer, would you please stop reading that Ross Perot pamphlet?"