My mother told me that when I was little, I used to cry a lot, but every time my maternal grandfather held me in his arms and comforted me, it was as if magic would make me stop crying. He said, "My granddaughter is just like me!" I still remember his kind face, like a benevolent old man in a fairy tale. Although his hair was streaked with gray and his face was deeply wrinkled, his eyes always looked at me with tenderness and affection. He often took me out to play. I remember his calloused hands leading me to visit Vong village to enjoy the delicious and tempting dish of bananas dipped in fragrant, chewy rice flakes. What I liked best was that on the way back, he would tell me fairy tales like Tam Cam, Thach Sanh, and The Starfruit Tree… stories that I still know by heart. He always reminded me, "Good deeds are rewarded, my child!"
When I learned to read and write, he often wrote letters, asking about my studies: “Which subject do you like best? Which subject do you fear most? Do your teachers care about you? Are your friends getting along well?”… Every summer, I would happily bring home my certificate of academic excellence to show him. Holding the certificate in his hand, he would brighten up, his eyes shining with joy. Although he didn't say it out loud, when I received the award from the family, I saw a sparkle of pride in his eyes. He said, “A child surpassing their father brings blessings to the family!” I suddenly realized that his love for me wasn't boisterous like the waves of the sea, but quiet and profound.
When I was growing up, he once asked me, "What profession will you choose to pursue in the future?" I replied, "I want to follow in your footsteps as a writer." His face showed a fleeting expression of surprise and astonishment. Then he gathered for me his yellowed books, worn-out literary magazines, and even his collections of poems and short stories. He said, "The writing profession requires a lot of travel, reading, and writing to progress quickly." I felt incredibly fortunate to have him—my first teacher—to guide me down the path of literature and art.
However, I failed my university entrance exam in my first year, much to my disappointment. I thought he would be very sad, but surprisingly, he called to comfort and encourage me: "Failure is the mother of success, my child!" Hearing his advice, I resolved to study hard, retake the exam the following year, and passed with top marks. And the first person I shared the good news with was him. We were both overjoyed. As I grew older, I understood even more that nothing compares to the happiness of having someone silently watching over and encouraging you.
For me, he has always been there, watching over my every step. He is also the guardian of my innocent childhood memories, a source of emotional support that helps me navigate life's many challenges. He is the teacher who taught me the lesson of being a kind person. And that sacred bond has woven together a simple, lasting happiness within me.
Now, he has passed away. It's wonderful that the image of my kind-hearted grandfather remains with me. I always wish time could turn back so I could be by his side again, like in my childhood. Even though I've grown up and walked my own path, I know he's still silently watching over me, smiling and encouraging me every day, because memories of him are always sweet and full of love.
Nguyen Minh
Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/chao-nhe-yeu-thuong/202603/hanh-phuc-mang-ten-ong-ngoai-fdb2beb/
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