Originally published in Living Hyphen Vol. 2.2 (Healing Across Generations).
DEATH AND THE WIND FARM LINH S. NGUYỄN
I only went because my grandfather died.
ties, just for fun. Even into his eighties, he leapt at every opportunity to travel or to recite his poetry. His
The plan had been Europe—horseback riding in the
love for his family was only rivalled by his love for our
Spanish countryside, savouring custard tarts in Porto,
homeland.
and castle hopping in Bavaria. I was in Seville, coming out of a flamenco show, when I received the news.
I pieced his final chapter together while booking my emergency flight to Nội Bài Airport. It had ended in a
Since we’d immigrated to Toronto thirteen years ago,
sudden heart failure. Ten minutes of gasping quickly,
I’d only returned to Việt Nam sparingly. The last time,
slowly– and then he was gone.
I spent three days in my hometown of Hà Nội. When we’d parted on the doorstep, my grandfather had
I came back to my family to grieve, to open arms
tears in his eyes. Living half a world away, I knew to
and my aunt’s simple words, “Welcome home. We’ve
prepare for goodbyes that might be forever; but I got
missed you.” That broke me.
complacent. I truly thought I would see him again. In the afternoon light, I took walks with my grandMy early life weaving between continents meant that
mother, hand-in-hand under the shade of cherry
our relationship had been built on snippets, always
trees, and I sat with her by the koi pond. Every morn-
wanting. I remembered him by how still he could sit
ing and night, I lit incense on my grandfather’s altar. I
on a bamboo mat, meditating for hours, and how
watched the sky try desperately to be blue.
sharp his eyes looked, right until the end. They took in every story around him with piercing clarity.
The cruelty of it all only struck me in the days following his funeral—that my sweet aunt, who had been
16
He had taught me to conjugate “être” in French. He
the giver all her life, bore the burden of standing alone
had survived severe appendicitis, kidney failure, and
with him as he died; that my mother had been headed
years on dialysis. He had lived through a revolution
home anyway, on her way to Pearson Airport when
and two wars. He had learned Portuguese in his fif-
the call came in.