My grandfather passed away on February 7th in Reno, Nevada. He was haole and probably the 3rd or 4th husband of my Filipino grandmother (my mother’s mother). Even though she’d been married before, he was the only grandfather I truly remembered. He taught me to play poker when I was just a kid. He, my brothers and I would then play for hours. He also taught my older brother to play chess, who, in turn, taught me (because he didn’t have anyone else to play with). Strangely, I don’t have a lot of memories of my Grandfather because he didn’t live near me for most of my life. He used to work for NASA in Cape Canaveral, Florida. We went to visit them once when I was probably in third or fourth grade. I remember a shuttle being set off one evening. Grandpa was holding me up to see it, but I fell asleep in his arms. I remember him always smoking a pipe or a cigar and speaking in his booming voice. One summer I spent with my Tutu and him in San Francisco. My Tutu was crazy. She’d wear platform shoes, get in the Cadillac with the sunroof top and drive to Vegas all by herself – instructing me to tell Grandpa that she’d gone to the store! When he’d ask where my Grandma was and I gave him the spiel, he’d just roll his eyes ’cause he knew! The last times we spent together were in Makaha, Hawaii. My Filipino grandmother had passed away in 1978 and he’d remarried a woman from Palau. When I stayed with him in Makaha, his new wife always cooked vegetables for me (I HATE cooked vegetables; prefer them raw) and always gave me the fish head to eat (which I’d root around, but never really eat) because she thought that’s how people on the Mainland ate. When he was taking me to the airport the last time I saw him, she asked him to wait while she ran to the store to pick something up for me. She brought back candy leis and leis made of those small bottles of alcohol for me. She’d taken a long time, though, so he yelled at her a little bit and she cried. I remember it like it was yesterday. There was a family reunion in Reno in May. I’d originally intended to go until someone told me that my mother was going; I haven’t spoken to her in years ’cause she always treated me like the red-headed stepchild, even from my earliest memories. Not only did I want to see some of my cousins and meet new relatives, I really wanted to see my Grandpa again, but refused to go because of my mother. In the meantime, one of my mother’s cousins had mentioned that Grandpa couldn’t afford to go because he was paying for his wife’s dialysis, thus was low on money. So I paid for him to go, although I wasn’t going myself. Then I contacted my cousins and told them to be sure and take care of his wife, so that she could go, too, which they did. I wrote him a letter to tell him that I loved him and hoped to see him soon, though that never came to pass. I always remember him walking along the beach in Makaha smoking his pipe, wearing his Aloha shirts and staring out at the ocean and the surfers. I thank him for always taking care of my Tutu, who I loved more than anyone in this world. My cousin said that he died peacefully, with his wife holding his hand.
I love you and miss you, Popo. I apologize for not having seen you in all these years. Please kiss Tutu for me when you see her again.