A Life Well Spent

By: Stephen Hwang

Period 1 Gill

I see the Jujube Trees and fresh apple blossoms as I walk across the front lawn of a

traditional Korean home. Everything I see is new to my eyes, everything wonderful,

everything beautiful. In the distance, I hear a voice calling my name and I run into

the arms of my grandmother. I see a beaming grandfather as he shakes the hands of

his successful son. As we enter the home, I seem rooms filled with exotic paintings

and elaborate furniture. A magical castle filled with wonders and joy.

How much more perfect can a life get?

At this point I see my great grandmother in the kitchen and I run towards with her

with enthusiasm. I am expecting her to open her arms up to me and embrace as we

usually do. Than out of nowhere, she does something unexpected.

“Who is this kid?” says my great grandmother the second I hug her.

At first, I think she’s joking as she usually does with me, but I later find out a harsh

truth.

“She has Alzheimer’s.”

What is that, I question

“It’s a disease where she slowly loses her memory as she ages.”
 If it’s a disease why isn’t she at the hospital?

“There is no cure so the doctor said it would be better for her to stay at home.”

Now being a child I did not understand the concept of an incurable disease. I

had this naïve idea that all diseases had a cure or medications for it.

Now also being a child, I did not have the greatest of attention spans while talking to

my mother.

“Let’s go play outside!!” Called my sister.

Completely forgetting about the situation, I run outside and commence in a game of

tag. We run through the freshly mown grass and blooming spring flowers. The vast

backyard was a child’s paradise as there was an orchard, lake, and a farm with

various animals. There were so many places to explore, so many places to see.

As dusk falls on the starry night, a voice calls from inside.

“Dinnertime!”

Covered in dirt and sweat we run inside and wash our hands. As we arrive to the

dinner table, we see an elaborate meal is prepared by my mother and grandmother.

I take a moment to savor the food that is in front of me, but in a second I dig in. I try

to finish the dinner as quickly as possible because our favorite TV program was on

in a few minutes. During the program we hear and argument brewing in the kitchen.

“ Where’s my dinner!?”

Our great grandmother suddenly emerged from her room.

“Why aren’t you feeding me?”, She proclaims.

 “Mother we just ate thirty minutes ago.”

“Stop lying to me, where is my dinner!”

I do not understand what is really going on with this argument. I am wondering if

she really can’t remember anything at all. Does she really not know that she ate?

Does that mean she doesn’t remember anything from five minutes ago? Does she not

even remember me? Where has the great grandmother I had loved gone?

We leave the house late at night and I hug my grandparents and my great

grandmother goodbye.

Good bye…. I wonder who made that word.

I wonder why didn’t just say I’ll see you next time.

I regret saying those two words, not realizing it was really a good bye.

Good bye… two words that say so much

Weeks later it was pouring rain. Now that I think about it, it was more like tears

falling from the sky. Tears that fell from heaven as they welcomed back an angel. Or

tears that fell as my great grandmother bid us her final good bye.

I see her pictures a lot. Even to this day I look at the pictures of her and me, in front

of the house, in front of the market, in front of the playground. I guess pictures are a

way of stealing a part of deaths trickery. It’s a little way to keep a part of a life that

was once lived, but now left.

 I wonder why we live for years, but die in a second.

Why do we work so hard to know that someday we’ll all die?

I believe that we live to love and to receive love. I believe if we life a life where we

love the people around us, the community love us, and we love what we do, we live

the most fulfilling life.

Sure I still miss her, and even to this day I shed tears whenever I think about her. Bu

still, if I remember what kind of life she lived, a life filled with more laughter than

tears. More hugs that hurts. And more love that all the world had to offer. I see her

life as a whole, and I smile.:]