Category Archives: Love

Vermont: Population density, covered bridges, and maple grading changes

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I have lots of fond, delicious, and happy memories of being in Vermont. Back in 2009 (or 2010), I came here for the first time for canoeing, hiking, and the Burlington town and farmers market. In 2014, I came here on a stop with Chris and his parents, and we did a Ben & Jerry’s factory tour and tasting, visited the “graveyard” of retired ice cream flavors, and also did a very thorough and delicious tasting of cheeses at Cabot Creamery. Now over 12 years later, Chris and I are back with the Pookster in tow for our autumn leaf peeping long weekend! And we are in luck: the leaves are definitely changing colors. We’ve seen so many gorgeous colors on this trip already!

I started thinking more about the state of Vermont versus New York and California, the two states I am most closely associated with. And as we were driving through Vermont and even in just Middlebury, where we are based during this trip, I thought about how I have always lived in relatively densely populated places, and how living in a place like Vermont would probably feel far too quiet and even borderline spooky for me. California is where I was born and raised and lived for the first 18.5 years of my life; it’s the most populous state in the U.S. New York is the fourth most populous state in the country, with a large chunk of that population in New York City, where I live. Vermont, on the other hand, ranks 49th (out of 50) for total population, and it’s one of the least densely populated states in the country. New York State’s overall population density is about six times Vermont’s; New York City is about 400 times more densely populated than the entire state of Vermont. It’s no wonder everywhere we go here, I marvel at how much open space there seems to be, and how far apart all the houses and buildings are. It’s because relatively speaking, they are all very far apart when compared to anywhere in New York City! The town of Middlebury feels rural, but then to me, perhaps the entire state of Vermont feels rural!

Stereotypically when I think of Vermont, I think of three main things: 1) maple syrup (obviously), 2) dairy and all things related (Cabot Creamery makes some of the best cheese in the country. Plus, I even like their branding and logo), and 3) Bernie Sanders. But when I started reading more about Middlebury, I started thinking more about the local college, Middlebury College, which is a highly ranked liberal arts college here, and all these “covered bridges” I kept seeing pop up as potential tourist stops here. For about a split second during my senior year of college, I considered applying to Middlebury College… that was, until I looked at it on the map and saw how it was in the middle of nowhere. Then, I immediately nixed it. Even at the age of 17, I knew I needed to be in or near a major metropolitan area, otherwise I would go nuts (I still feel this way today, so no wonder I live right in Manhattan). Vermont, the “Green Mountain state,” is also known for its covered bridges. While there used to be about 700 of these peculiar bridges, today, only 100 remain standing. These covered bridges were originally built with large structural wood trusses; their main purpose was to solve for all the endless rivers that are all over the state. The bridges are all quite short; Chris drove across the Halpin bridge yesterday and I walked across it; it took me less than 30 seconds to walk across this tiny covered bridge, built back in 1840. Because these bridges were all wooden, if they were exposed to rain, snow, and freeze-thaw cycles, they would rot pretty quickly. So, the bridge isn’t covered to keep travelers dry; the bridge is covered to keep the bridge dry and protected. This is such an interesting fun fact!

Today, we visited two different farmers markets: Burlington Farmers Market and Shelburne Farmers Market. I had visited the Burlington Farmers Market back in 2009; it has gotten noticeably larger since then! There was a great variety of vendors at both. I always love seeing the local produce and goods at each city and town we visit when we can. At the Burlington Farmers Market, we picked up some local chestnut and lion’s mane mushrooms (they were organic and so fresh and springy!), Vermont goat cheese (loved the taste and texture of this one), “artisanal” marshmallows created by a local pastry chef, a bottle of local bourbon, and a bottle of local whisky. At the Shelburne Farmers Market, we bought a bottle of local orange wine. At both markets, we saw the inevitable vendors selling maple syrup and other maple products, and I noticed that instead of saying “Grade A” or “Grade B” as I had previously seen during my 2009 Burlington Farmers Market trip, the labels said something more descriptive, like “Golden Color,” “Amber Color,” or “Dark Color.” So I made a mental note of this to research this later. In 2015 (so the year after we last visited Vermont), Vermont actually officially overhauled their maple syrup grading system, as “Grade A” vs. “Grade B” was far too confusing (I would agree with this). The old hierarchy that I remember, “Fancy,” Grade A, Grade B, was replaced because darker syrup was not actually lower quality; it just had a stronger flavor. I distinctly remember a colleague who had a spouse from Vermont say that he preferred “Grade B” because it had a stronger maple flavor and was darker in color. But to the average person, “Grade B” sounds like it would be inferior quality to something labeled “Grade A.” Today the grade tells you mainly about color and flavor intensity, which makes more sense immediately. Grade A is all commercially available maple syrup now; this is the default for anything you can buy. “Grade B” does not exist, period.

So, I learned a lot of new things today about the second least populated state in my country! I’m so happy I got an update on Vermont’s maple grading and how it changed in 2015; I feel so much more “in the know” about local Vermont facts, and perhaps more importantly, national food facts now. 🙂

When your baby calls out in the middle of the night

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Chris and I take turns putting Kaia to bed. Since there’s two of us and one of her, it makes the bedtime routine easy and predictable. Back in the days when we had to wake up Kaia in the middle of the night to pee, I would honestly dread the nights when it was my night to put her to bed because this also meant I needed to do the middle-of-the-night “dream pee” with her (does anyone like interrupted sleep?!). Back then, I had to set an alarm (anywhere from 11pm to 3am) to wake her up (okay, half wake up) to pee. In the beginning of overnight training, we both would wake up, one earlier in the evening, one in the early hours of the morning. So when we went down to one wake up/overnight pee, it became easier and more manageable. But the funniest part when we went down to one dream pee per night was that Kaia always knew which side of the bed to go to, mine or Chris’s, in the nights when it was our turn. Chris found this amusing and pointed it out to me one day. I thought this was very astute of her. Even though we never explicitly told her, she knew that if one of us read to her and put her to bed, then that same person would also be responsible for having her pee in the middle of the night. And likewise, if she had a night disturbance or cried for some reason, it was that same person’s job to wake up to go soothe her.

Although I was happy and proud when she finally slept through the whole night without needing to pee (or pee her pants!), I also felt a little sad. It was like those posts I see on social media where they say that as parents, you don’t always know when “the last time” is when you get to do something with your child. Sometimes it can be a bit shocking, as though something has been taken from you before you were ready for it to be taken away, or as though your baby has moved onto the next phase of their life faster than you were prepared for. Here’s a tangible example: I can’t remember the last time I gave Kaia a proper bath in a tub, but I remember that whenever that last time was, I didn’t realize it would be the last time. She just suddenly decided and declared one day that she didn’t want to do baths. Chris said it would be easier, so he agreed to give her a shower. And that was that. Since then, she’s only had showers we’ve given her!

So in the wee hours of this morning, at around 3:12am, I awoke to a seemingly far-away moan. “Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!” Kaia cried, over and over again.

Kaia was sitting on her bed, eyes wide open, blankets in a disarray. Sluggishly, I dragged myself out of bed to see what was bothering her. I opened her bedroom door. She immediately saw me, reached out to hand me her favorite little ice pack (already water by that time, of course). I obligingly accepted the ice pack to put back in the freezer. Then, she asked if I could hand over her cow… As in, her cow Halloween costume from two years ago that she still uses as a stuffed animal… which is always sitting at the right foot of her bed. I told her to lie down and grabbed the cow for her to hold. I hugged and kissed her, then told her to go back to sleep. Then, I went back to bed.

Unlike Chris, when these quick wake-ups happen, I am usually able to go back to sleep again quite quickly. So, they don’t bother me as much. But I also found the entire situation hilarious, endearing, and completely ridiculous at the same time. There was zero urgency in this random middle-of-the-night wake-up and cry-out for mama: The ice pack did not need to be placed into the freezer immediately; she could have easily grabbed the cow at the edge of her own bed for herself to cuddle; none of these needed to be done by me. But she did this all because 1) she knows I will come and indulge her, 2) she wants cuddles and kisses from her mama in the middle of the night, and 3) she simply wants me to come, period. And for me, this is okay. It’s actually more than okay. I love feeling loved and needed, and this is one of those moments that makes me feel loved and needed… even if it physically wakes me up when I do not want to be woken and interrupts my deep sleep (which it did).

One day, she won’t call out for me at night. Hopefully, that will be a long while from now. So for now, I will try my best to embrace each time and give my baby the middle of the night cuddles and kisses that she wants and needs… Because I’ll never know when it will be the last time. And I do love every chance I get to have cuddles and kisses with my little cheeky bubba.

Kaia and her bed full of stuffies, aka her “siblings”

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Since Kaia was very little, I could tell she was very nurturing. She’s always shown care and concern for others. When she was just over two years old, there was a new little girl in her 2s class at daycare. This girl was terrified and scared of everyone, actively avoiding interaction with anyone. But Kaia managed to take this kid under her wing and make her feel welcome, doing activities with her and making her feel included. Kaia’s vocabulary was quite limited, then; she never told me what she did. She simply mentioned the name of her new friend in class. I found out via this girl’s mom when we ran into each other at pickup. The mom shared that her daughter kept mentioning Kaia’s name and how much she liked her. In the mornings, drop offs became less painful because she said she was going to see Kaia again, and that made her excited for the day at school.

Kaia is now the youngest kid in her kindergarten class. She doesn’t get much interaction time with the 2s, 3s, or 4s classes at this school. So I suppose her only time to “take care” of others is with her “siblings” at home. She claimed my work chair the other day, insisting I couldn’t use it for work anymore because she needed it to push all her little brothers and sisters around. Then tonight when I tucked her in for bed, she gave me a disapproving look and said, “I also need to tuck Irene and Maddie and Flora and (keep naming the 10 other “siblings”) so that they are super comfy, too, Mama!” So we gave each of these siblings a little spot on the bed beside her, tucked each of them in together, and then I kissed her good night.

This doesn’t sound like a truly significant moment, does it? It sounds like an everyday thing with a child of Kaia’s age. But that’s the thing, though: the things that are seemingly everyday to us now will eventually fade from the front of our minds to the back of our minds…. into a distant memory, and then potentially be long forgotten. And then we’ll move on to the next thing that will occupy our minds and follow the same process of disappearance. So I thought about this as I closed her door to a crack and thought to myself: this is such a beautiful little moment of my little kindergartener, wanting to care for and nurture her “little siblings,” also known as her endless collection of stuffies. And I should write it down now so that in the event that I do forget, when this becomes the past, that I can always look back to this and remember.

First Back to School Night

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When I got out of bed two mornings ago, I knew that autumn had really come: it was the first time I felt the need to put another layer on upon waking. The temperatures felt like they declined sharply in the last few days, or maybe it’s just me. And what perfect timing since the autumn equinox was also on Tuesday, the actual official start of autumn in the northern hemisphere!

Lots of things happen in pretty quick succession once fall starts: school begins, Back to School Night is scheduled, lots of kid/school events, Mid-Autumn Moon Festival (that’s tomorrow!), and Halloween. For me personally, there’s the AFSP Out of the Darkness walk and fundraising, which I usually begin pushing at the end of the summer. End of summer is also when our committee meets more regularly to plan the walk day down to the T. Tonight marked our first official Back to School night at Kaia’s new school, another reminder that she really is in formal school days, in kindergarten. As one of my gym friends says, it’s a “marker that you’re getting ready to let her go.”

Since we don’t have a nanny or family for easy childcare, Chris stayed home with Kaia while I attended the Back to School Night event. The schedule was a bit too packed and condensed: the presentations were too long, and there wasn’t enough open time to breathe and let people ask questions freely. They said they would take questions “after” the presentation was done, but the hard part about that was after each session, we were being motioned to move onto the next talk. At least this was a good way to see what the kids are actually learning week by week, unit by unit, and how the target language themes align with the English Language Arts themes. A bunch of the parents were grumbling in our kindergarten class, saying that when they ask their kids what they learned in school today, they usually respond with something like, “Nothing! We didn’t do anything! We talked about nothing! We didn’t read! We just sat!” I can related to this: more than two or three times in the last two weeks of school, Kaia has responded in exactly this way.

After Back to School Night, there was a casual after-party at the wine bar across the street from the school. I originally intended to just stay for a bit and get one drink, but I ended up staying until the very end along with two other fellow moms (I still stuck with one drink, though). This wasn’t too long, though. In total we were there for about two hours. I’ll be honest and say that no, not every single parent here is warm, friendly, and welcoming, but I would expect that, otherwise they might be some crazy cult. For the most part, people seem friendly, genuine, like they want to be open to others. There’s definitely a good sense of community overall here that I enjoy. Parents mostly do want to get to know other parents, and it doesn’t seem forced or competitive.

When I was walking to the school before the event started, I did start feeling a little sad and wistful once again, thinking about my sweet baby, growing up and slowly spreading her wings and flying away. But then I remembered one of the books we’ve read a lot called “The Wonderful Things You Will Be.” Then I think about how every stage of her development has brought so much curiosity and joy and love to our family, and how with every new thing she says and does, I am more and more amazed by her development, her growth, her depth of thought. She will always be my baby, but she has to be set free to learn, explore, and love. It’s a beautiful but sad thing at the same time. I suppose this is what a mother’s love feels like. I am still reckoning with the fact that my baby is in kindergarten. It is still sinking in.

The compost worms and Kaia

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While in San Francisco and staying with my parents, Kaia loves to go out to my parents’ backyard and see my dad’s compost, specifically the worms that live and nourish the compost bin. To be frank, I am not sure what the hell my dad does with this nutrient rich compost soil he is creating, but since it gives him joy, we just have to “let them!” If it gives him joy and a reason to be, plus it keeps his mind and body occupied, then I consider it a win for all. Before we left, Kaia requested to see the worms before going to the airport. So my dad was really excited and proudly showed them to her one last time. Then last night unexpectedly, I got this text message from my dad:

“My compost worm said hi to Kaia.”

I smiled when I read this. If you don’t know my dad, then you won’t know why this message tickled me so much and warmed my heart. My dad is usually stoic, always emotionless and rarely shows any real love or affection; he just doesn’t know how. He’s spent his entire life just surviving and being deprived of any real tender care. So now that Kaia is here, she gives affection so easily that it’s like her second nature. So she happily showers it on everyone and anyone, including her Gonggong. And I’m sure it made my dad happy. So he remembered this and wanted to interact with her in this way by sending this text, which is a hundred percent out of character. This is a very playful, affectionate message, one that in a million years I would never have guessed my dad would send to me, even if it’s for my kindergarten-age daughter.

Becoming a mother has changed my life in more ways than I could count. And incredibly, it’s also even changed the way I see my dad. At the core of every person is someone who wants to be seen, recognized, and loved; this is no matter how unfeeling and stoic they may be on the outside. Maybe that’s what my dad was missing in his life all along. Now that he has someone who does this for him, loudly and unabashedly, as in, his granddaughter, something new has been awakened in him.

Wistful for the past and reflecting back on Kaia’s first words and foods

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Since Kaia started kindergarten yesterday, I suppose it’s only natural that as her mother, I have been thinking a lot about her life to date, reminiscing on past moments and fun with her. While I did look through a number of old photos and videos over the last 4.5 years, what I also did was go back to Chris’s master Google spreadsheet, detailing her feeding/eating/my pumping journey. I included a tab for her solid foods eaten up to age 14 months, as well as a tab for first words. At some point, the words got to be so many all at once that I stopped keeping track; it looks like I stopped at the 76th word. Unfortunately I don’t have dates for those. But these are some funny things I had forgotten about that happened with solid food and words:

  • After her first word “diaper” at about 10ish months, which we found hilarious, Kaia’s second word was “purple,” which is her favorite color next to pink!
  • Her fifth word, which is a vegetable, was “beets!” She still loves beets today.
  • Kaia’s first Chinese word was 面/mian (noodle)! This is very fitting for my noodle loving Pookie!
  • “Weetbix” was her 21st word; she truly is an Aussie baby!
  • Her 54st word, or phrase rather, was “Oh shit!” 🙁
  • Her first solid food, eaten within week 2 of her life, had to be prune juice because her poop was so backed up! Her next solid food was not until she was exactly 6 months old on June 10, 2022, when she was given avocado. The next day, she had both alphonso AND ataulfo mango.
  • About a month later, she had peach for the first time, which gave her a red mouth reaction. Luckily, it subsided, and the reaction never occurred again.
  • She had her first cayenne pepper AND Thai chilies on July 17, 2022, at just over seven months of age!
  • Kaia had her first durian, from Say Weee! and imported from Malaysia, on September 17, 2022 and liked it.
  • On the same day she had her first taste of durian, she also tried hibiscus and lemon verbena in herbal teas separately and seemed to enjoy.
  • The last new food I documented that she ate was just before she reached 14 months of age: this was croaker fish at BCD Tofu House in Koreatown, NYC! This was food #312!

It’s still so much fun introducing her to new foods. I hope my sweet baby always stays this open-minded with cultures and foods.

13 years fundraising and writing blurbs to encourage donations

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It’s hard to believe that it’s been 13 years since Ed passed, and now 13 years of fundraising for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP). When I first sought out some nonprofit fundraising effort to preserve Ed’s memory and keep his spirit alive, I wasn’t sure how long I would do this for or even if I’d stick with AFSP. For a couple years, I thought I might switch organizations to change things up for myself, plus to expose myself to different nonprofit environments. But in the end, I stuck with AFSP because it was comfortable, familiar, and I got used to the setup, events, and the people. I’ve been involved in various AFSP events, including going on local TV to represent them and discuss why I walk. I’ve also been an AFSP NYC walk committee member for the last year and am continuing this effort this year.

Every year when I write my fundraising message, I try to change the message up so that it’s a little different and current to my life at the moment and what’s top of mind for me. The first couple years were about the shock of losing him. Then it evolved into missing him at milestone moments of my life, whether that was my wedding, my pregnancy and the birth of Kaia, and this year, my 40th birthday. And now, it’s really become about… every year I’ve lived past age 33… all the years he never got to live. So what am I really doing with my life to make it more meaningful and to make it “worth” living, both for his memory and for myself?

Sometimes I wonder if anyone really reads my updated blurbs, specifically the people who are in my repeat donor group. I am grateful for their repeat donations, but I always wonder if they really read anything I write. Then last year, one person actually texted to let me know that he loved “the evolution of my message” each year, and how my reflections about my brother and his passing have changed over time. That was something I really appreciated.

So, here we go again. This year, I couldn’t put my thoughts together as early as I usually do, as I typically target July, the month of his passing. I didn’t figure out what I wanted to write until around his birthday in late August. So here I am, scrambling to organize my message and fundraiser just a month and a half out from the walk on October 25! Wish me luck in meeting my goal.

The four Disney princesses from Ed

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Every time I go back to my parents’, I try to take something back to New York that is a reminder of my childhood. Sometimes, it’s really little things like random cards or photos I find in a pile that I’d forgotten about that remind me of a happy memory. Other times, it’s slightly larger things like my hardcover copy of The Complete Stories of Curious George, which I brought back this time around. Kaia is at a point where she can follow longer stories, and the original Curious George stories are actually not as short as one might expect them to be! She always plays with my Curious George stuffed animal, which Ed got for me during a Christmas back from my high school days when Curious George was the holiday theme for Macy’s. So she knows who he is and that her mama likes this monkey. We already started reading some of the stories together while we were in San Francisco.

On the last morning before we left to go to Chicago, I was rummaging through a bedroom drawer I rarely go into and stumbled upon the extremely heavy mah jong set purchased during my first China trip in 2006. This was a legitimate mah jong set, and an extremely heavy one at that! The truth is that I only ever played mah jong one time ever and have completely forgotten the rules. The only reason I even bought this crazy heavy set was that I thought it would be a nice souvenir to have from my first time in my fatherland… and then predictably, I never even opened or played it even once after buying it. So that was very practical of me at the time. Fast forward twenty years, and now mah jong is all the rage. I sat next to a White woman on the plane who said she took a four-day full-time intensive course to master mah jong! And as ridiculous as it sounds, there is the “Chinese rules” mah jong and the “American rules” mah jong (whatever the hell the latter means). For a split second, I considered lugging it back to New York with me… but then my true practical side took hold, and I immediately placed it back into the drawer.

In that same drawer, I found something Ed had bought me years ago: Four Disney princess figurines, still in their original packaging, never opened. We have Cinderella, Aurora (Sleeping Beauty), Snow White, and Belle (from Beauty and the Beast). They are all wearing glittering gowns. I knew immediately that Kaia would love them. Though the figurines are meant for display, I figured at this point, that didn’t matter anymore. The best thing we could get out of these four princesses was Kaia’s enjoyment, which meant being able to play with them. So I took them all out of the original box, tucked them into a ziplock bag, and put them into my checked luggage.

Of course, Kaia being the little investigator that she is, she found the princesses in my luggage when I had it open in Chicago, and she asked me what it was in her usual tone of, “Is that for me?!” I told her if she was good, she could open it when we got back to New York, but only if she was good.

Today, Kaia was happily playing with all four of them and marveling over their sparkly gowns. I told her that her Jiujiu got them for her mama over twenty years ago. He knew that when Mama was young, she loved all the princesses, so he wanted to get these for me. Now, these are a gift for Kaia. So essentially, Ed got these for Kaia… he just never realized it back then. I told Kaia that these princesses are very special, and now Kaia can have a token of Jiujiu’s love. I am not sure if it’s just me, but she seemed to understand.

“I love them,” Kaia said quietly, as she hugged all of them at once. “Thanks, Jiujiu.”

Ed may not be here today to see Kaia playing with these four princesses he gifted me, but I know he is in both our hearts and minds. If he is somewhere out there watching, I hope he is smiling.

Last day with family in San Francisco for this year

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My family tends to go through the same behavioral patterns in the last day or two when I am home. My mom goes through an anxious, angry period where she is either aggressive or passive aggressive with me, getting mad at me for innocuous things or accusing me of having feelings or intentions that she makes up. If I am not home during a given period, she will call repeatedly and ask when I am coming home; this is her way of actually saying, you need to come home now. On Monday, we planned to have dinner at my aunt’s upstairs, and my uncle would also be joining us. She asked us to come at 5 since my uncle needs to leave early since he cannot drive in the dark. So at around 3 while in Mission Bay with Chris and Kaia, I called home to let my dad know that we’d be back before 4. I could hear my mom in the background saying I was late and that I needed to come home right away. I could hear her angst, but I shrugged it off.

We went to pick up ice cream (black sesame and mango!) from Joe’s Ice Cream, a neighborhood ice cream shop that’s been around since I was a kid. Then we walked home from there. When we arrived back and I came into the kitchen, that was when I could feel my mom glaring at me with her eyes burning. “It’s almost 4 o’clock now. You are late,” she hissed at me. “You should have been home a long time ago! They are already upstairs waiting for us and eating.” Um. It wasn’t even 4pm. Who the hell was going to be eating dinner at this time? I said nothing and did as I promised, which was to help make a steamed eggplant dish to bring to the dinner along with my purchased dessert. She proceeded to get mad that we went out at all today and didn’t tell her, as she was hoping we could “talk more” together. I did not have that same hope.

As 4:50 rolled around, my mom started yelling that we’re all late and that we all needed to get upstairs, pronto. I was still cleaning up and washing dishes in the kitchen. Kaia was running around happily. My dad was doing something somewhere in the basement. Chris was lying on my bed, asking what the rush was. The reason she wanted us to go upstairs as soon as possible was that she wanted us to be done with this family dinner as soon as possible. She can only keep up her “family dinner” face for so long, and she had nothing to say to my uncle. While at dinner when we were asking my aunt questions about her potentially changing living situation, my mom got mad at me for asking questions and insisted we “let her eat her dinner.” I told her that it’s normal to have a conversation at the dinner table, and that shut her up; not everyone wants to eat in silence and call that a “family dinner” for god’s sake. It’s almost like she is in pain being at a dinner table with any wider family members and she needs to find a way to make it stop as soon as possible. When they invite her, she feels a need to “return the favor” and invite them back right away, which is “suffering.” Thinking about this is so exhausting.

There were some nice moments, though. This morning before we left, Kaia kept insisting to my dad that he show her his worms in his compost pile before leaving. Obviously this made my dad beyond thrilled, so he was happy to comply with her ask. Then as he rummaged through random junk in the garage, she insisted she wanted to stay with him to watch what he was doing. This attachment she’s developed to my dad has been really endearing. Every time she yells, “GONGGONG! GONGGONG!” and runs after him, it makes me smile and chuckle. Chris commented that my dad has probably never felt more desired or more affection from another human in his entire life before now. He is probably right.

And as we packed up the car to go to the airport, while she was being a little bratty and refused to give my mom a hug and kiss until the very last minute, she had zero problem giving my dad endless hugs and kisses and grabbing onto his leg until she had to let go and get into the car. My dad’s big goofy grin in this moment was pretty epic… and this is coming from someone who never uses that word.

When we got to the airport lounge and sat down, I asked Kaia if she missed Popo and Gonggong. She nodded her head and quietly said a drawn out, “Yeah.” Then, she didn’t say anything for while, but out of nowhere looked at me and said, “We never got to see Jiujiu… because he died.”

Yes, that is true. At least she waited to say that until after my parents were gone because I am not sure how they would have reacted to hearing Kaia say this.

The soft side of my dad

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In the evenings before bed, my parents like to make hot chocolate. They don’t do anything fancy; they use 2% cow milk, a little heavy cream for extra richness occasionally, and different forms of hot chocolate mix. The latest versions I see that look quite depleted in the cupboard are Whole Foods brand or some random organic cacao blend. My dad already pre-measured out the evening mugs for milk and was planning to warm them in the microwave and mix in the hot chocolate blend. But I told him that I’d make it properly over the stove for all of us tonight. I finally asked him why he didn’t use the Dandelion Chocolate hot chocolate mix I got him; two of the three glass jars were still sitting in the cupboard fully sealed. He hesitated initially and said that he found it a bit too sweet for bedtime, which I could understand. So we compromised, and I mixed some of his unsweetened cacao into the Dandelion hot chocolate blend.

As I heated the pot over the stove, my dad stuck around while I mixed occasionally. We actually had a pretty decent chat. We somehow managed to cover glucose and cholesterol levels, general health maintenance, diet modifications based on age, dental care and insurance, my work, the Nepal flooding (!), and general house maintenance in a very short space of time while in the kitchen together. I’ve realized over all the years of returning home that my dad really does not enjoy table side conversation; he actually detests it most times and rarely says anything at the table unless it’s something specifically interesting to him. Because of this, I usually don’t probe him much at the table. My dad’s favorite way of talking to anyone is while each person is sort of side by side. One person may be occupied with a task like heating milk over the stove (me) while the other person (in this case, him) lingers nearby. One person asks the other person an innocuous question out of the blue. The other person responds. Then the conversation either builds on that topic or another unrelated topic comes up. But the door has already been opened to allow the conversation to flow pretty easily.

Long ago, I gave up on the idea that I could change my relationship with my dad. We’ve had many ups and downs over the years. I spent a lot of my childhood living in fear that he’d lash out at me the way he did with Ed. And yes, of course every now and then, he definitely did lash out at me with his fangs. But I have forgiven him for his shortcomings because I know he had a miserable, difficult, and impoverished childhood, with very little love or direction given by either of his parents. I have moments when I get pissed because I am human, but I try to remember his childhood hardships. I have come to terms that we will never have the ideal daddy-daughter relationship or closeness I wish we could have had. I have made peace with it, mourned it, and let it go. Instead, I do exactly what ChatGPT suggested I do, which is to find power in the moments instead of forced, idealized, longer periods of time together. So if that means offering to make him hot chocolate and chatting over the stove one on one, or dusting the living room surfaces side by side while having random chatter, then I will embrace it. Those are the times he feels the most relaxed and open to me. Those are also the times he seems the softest to me.

What I’ve also loved watching during this trip particularly is how much Kaia has embraced my dad. She actively engages with her Gonggong, shows him that she wants his attention, and will not accept any less (this level of stubbornness is truly amazing and so hilarious to watch). On Sunday, he had to go out to pick up dinner takeout; she blocked the door and prevented him from leaving. When he tried to climb over her, she grabbed his leg and said he would not be allowed to leave. Eventually I had to intervene and pick Kaia up to let my dad out of the house, but it was such a cute and sweet (and likely infuriating for my parents!) moment to see.

Each night we’ve been at my parents’, I tell Kaia she has to go to each of them to hug and kiss them good night. What she has also done, which I did not tell her to do, is she proactively tells each of them she loves them. The first time she did this with my dad, he patted her on the back (his version of a hug…). Then when she actually uttered the words “I love you,” I could see the shock spread over his face… then eventually melt into this huge grin. Then she kept doing it with him night after night. I just loved seeing how big my dad’s smiles were each time. It was almost like for the first time in his entire life, at the age of 78, he was experiencing verbalized love and physical affection repeatedly, all from this tiny little human who has been a temporary resident at his home.

I loved seeing my dad feel loved. I had a moment when I almost started tearing up. For his entire childhood, my dad was deprived of love and affection, which turned him into this hard, stoic, emotionless man that he became. He focused on survival and financial independence only because that’s all he knew. And now, his little 4.5-year-old granddaughter gives him the love that he always needed but didn’t realize he needed.