It is not exactly a recollection that one would call
pleasant. Breathing heavily, I run aimlessly down a cracked cement path that
leads to a vegetable garden. I look up at the dark clouds rolling furiously in
the sky. Lighting bolts flash their blurry white silhouettes on the gray
apartment buildings looming ominously above me like giant pillars. The trees
sway violently in the strong wind as I am propelled backwards. I become
increasingly anxious. My gangly three-‐year
old legs suddenly become feeble as every step feels more arduous than the last.
And then, right as I was about to cry out in desperation, I feel the firm hands
of my grandfather as they raise me from the ground. I glance at him
momentarily. He smiles confidently as he mouths something to which I can no
longer put to words. Finally feeling at ease, I bury myself in his chest and
wait for him to take me back home.
It has taken me nearly twenty years and several trips back
to my hometown to realize the significance of this memory. I understand that my
perspective of my grandfather is unique. Unlike most of you here today, I have
only heard stories of his younger, more prominent self. But I feel that it is
absolutely remarkable that despite my regrettably limited interaction with him
over the course of my life, he has still undoubtedly shaped who I am as a
person.
Accompanied by my aunt, I came to the United States
at the tender age of three. I have vague memories of that terrifying overseas
flight. Not really sure where this strange vessel was taking me, I yearned to
go back to my home in Shanghai ,
where I knew I could be safe and carefree.
I was very reserved and insecure as a child. I always had
trouble asserting myself and fitting into the social scene. Doing well in
school was really the only way in which I could stand out, but just resulted in
many instances in which people knew of me, but knew next to nothing about me.
For many years I had trouble connecting with people. I only had a handful of
friends up until college, and my high school prom experience was so bad that I
am embarrassed whenever I recount the tale to my friends.
The first two times I returned to Shanghai was during the summers after my
fourth and fifth grades in elementary school. My parents were hoping that my
grandfather would be able to instill in me some of his brilliance as a
mathematician. Unfortunately, I was somewhat of a failed project. Because of my
lack of natural talent, I had absolutely no interest in honing my basic
arithmetic skills and rebelled each and every time he assigned me practice
problems. Although initially very frustrated that he could not fulfill his son’s wishes to help me, he
eventually relented and gave into my pleasure-‐seeking demands. I remember those times so vividly
because there was something pure about the comfort and security that he had
provided so generously. I remember spending my days riding his bike around Fudan University Shanghai ’s
shen lin (forest) park, where he would let me navigate motorboats through the
lake. Those two summers were like these fantasies that afforded me the true
freedom of childhood, the type of uninhibited life that I couldn’t have in the United States
because I had felt so out of place. My grandfather had provided the environment
in which, for the first time in my life, I could truly be myself.
My father recognized that each time I returned from China I was a
changed person. In a conversation a few years ago he said, “those summers with
your grandfather seemed to impact you profoundly. You know as a kid you were
abnormally shy and lacked confidence. But for a short while after you came back
you seemed more vibrant, you talked a whole lot more. You were more at ease
with yourself. I don’t know what caused this change — I think you had some
issues adjusting when you arrived in America . But whatever happened,
your times spent in China
seem to affect you quite a lot.”
As a graduate student of biomedical engineering whose Ph.D.
thesis concerns the study of metastatic cancer, I know all too well the
severity of my Grandfather’s struggles over the past few years. And so last
winter when he requested my presence before his inevitable passing, I
immediately decided to make the trip.
In the hospital room where he had been staying, my heart
stopped when I glanced at my grandfather for the first time in over four years.
Ghastly pale and hauntingly emaciated, he was the shell of the proud man that I
had once knew. He grimaced as he struggled with intense pain. I stood there
unable to speak. All of my words had completely left me.
A few moments passed before my grandmother ushered me to the
seat next to his bed. I reached for his hand. He was still staring out into
space, the morphine influencing his ability to grasp reality.
My grandmother broke the silence: Grandpa, do you know who
is here? This is Fang Wen, your grandson. Your grandson has come for you…
I will never forget what had happened next. Slowly, my
grandfather turned his head towards me, his beady eyes looking straight into
mine. And then all of a sudden, he was overwhelmed with the sort of profound
euphoria that I had never seen before. The pain that had had been fighting back
had seemingly vanished as he cracked an enormous toothless grin. With his free
hand, he was fighting back tears of joy.
It was right then, at that very moment when Shanghai turned on its night-‐lights, that I knew that I
had fulfilled my duty as this man’s
grandson. Even if lasting just a few precious seconds, his priceless expression
of true happiness was enough to make my trip worthwhile. Right before I had
left for Pudong Airport some days later, I held his hand firmly, reluctant to
let go, knowing that it was going to be the final time we would be able to see
each other.
Despite being separated by the vastness of the Pacific Ocean , my grandfather has never failed to provide
me with a sense of home and security. I will never be able to reciprocate what
he had given me so generously. But he has taught me, in many ways more than
one, to place love and family above all else. It is these core values that I
will pass onto my children so that the He family will continue to thrive and
make him proud.
今年五月，当我得到爷爷病情加重的消息，就立即决定回去看他。我在康奈尔研究生院就读，搞的是癌症研究。直觉告诉我，这也许是我和爷爷的最后一次见面了。
一下飞机，我直奔新华医院。可见到爷爷时，我惊呆了。他已经被癌症折麽得不像我印象当中的爷爷了。四年前我最后一次见到他的时候，他还是那样的魁梧高大，可现在躺在病床上，脸色苍白，廋骨磷磷。我轻轻地喊了一声，“爷爷”，可他呆滞的目光一直注视着远方，丝毫没有注意到我的存在。很明显，病魔和药物影响了他的感知能力。
奶奶说话了，“大可，你看谁来了？你的孙子从美国看你来啦！”。
我永远不会忘记那一时刻。爷爷慢慢地把头转了过来。他盯着我看了一会，突然笑了，笑得是那样地开心，仿佛所有的病痛都消失了。他抓住我的手，两行泪水从眼角淌了下来。我知道那是因为激动，也是因为伤心。我也激动不已，我让爷爷高兴了，这次回中国真是值得，我尽到了一个孙子的责任。
在中国的两个星期里，我每天去看爷爷，告诉他我生活学习上的一些事情。每当我要走的时候，他总要关照姑姑和奶奶。“给方闻买最好的东西吃”。这句话，他是用了全身的力气和全部的爱讲出来的。
每次见到爷爷，我就想起小时候在中国度过的那两个暑假。爷爷总是想教我数学。可我就是不感兴趣。现在想来还有些后悔。爷爷桃李满天下，为何我就不能成为他的一个桃李？那两个暑假我过得特别开心。白天在复旦校园里骑自行车，晚上和表妹玩游戏。天气好的时候，爷爷还会带我们去森林公园，让我掌舵开电动船。在爷爷奶奶的宠爱下，过着无忧无虑的生活，这就是我理想当中的童年。
尽管我和爷爷相隔着太平洋，但他的思想和教诲却一直在影响着我。热爱生活，重视家庭，他言传身教让我知道了人生最重要的东西。将来等我有了孩子，我会告诉他们，你们有这样一位祖爷爷。爷爷放心吧，你的子子孙孙会让你感到骄傲的。
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