Author: Huang Jing-Wen 黃靜芠
My grandpa and grandma are both from Yunlin. They met while farming together, fell in love, and later got married. After marriage, they worked side by side at many different jobs; working as cement labourers, making quilts, running a paint shop together, and operating a noodle stall. In Dazhi, which was not yet very developed at the time, they bought a small loft apartment. I still remember my father saying that back then, a bowl of plain noodles cost only five dollars. With the three hundred thousand they struggled to save over half their lives, they bought a home filled with memories that belong to our family.
Grandpa and Grandma had seven children; two sons and five daughters. My father was the youngest son and the most doted-on child. Everyone’s attention was focused on him, including Grandpa, who was strict and believed in corporal punishment, and Grandma, who loved to nag. They treated my father very well. My father was never outstanding academically; he loved sports, smoking, and riding motorcycles. At an age when he should have been studying and working hard, he was instead taking girls on late-night rides to Yangmingshan. “If it were someone else, they would have been scolded to death!” my father said while recalling the past. Indeed, in that era of male-favouritism, Grandpa and Grandma indulgently accepted my father’s recklessness.
My father’s carefree ways only changed after he met my mother. Unfortunately, Grandpa did not treat my mother kindly. On her first visit, my mother brought a basket of fruit, and Grandpa remarked sarcastically, “If we want sweet fruit, do we really need you to bring it?” The reason he said this was that at the time, my third uncle-in-law’s business was thriving, and he sent sweet, expensive fruit to Grandpa and Grandma every day. What Grandpa did not know was that my mother, who was naturally frugal, could only afford to eat such fruit during festivals or birthdays. She did not take Grandpa’s rudeness to heart, and after about two years of being in love with my father, they got married.
A year later, my older brother was born. Because of work, my mother asked my maternal grandmother, who was running an ice-cream shop, to help take care of him, so he grew up in Linkou. As for me, my mother gave Grandma ten thousand dollars every month and entrusted her with taking care of me. Because of this, I grew up in Dazhi.
Life in Dazhi was simple and beautifully pure. As I grew older, whenever I had to write an essay about childhood, happiness, memories, or nostalgia, I would always write about Dazhi and my life with Grandpa and Grandma. I was a chubby, fair-skinned child with big eyes and a frizzy hairstyle. Every relative loved teasing me, and Grandpa and Grandma adored me endlessly.
My favourite snack as a child was “Peacock Crackers” made by Kuai Kuai. Putting them in the freezer and taking a bite on a hot summer day was pure joy. Grandma hated me eating snacks, but Grandpa would always come up with countless excuses to secretly take me out to buy my beloved Peacock Crackers.
The first floor of the Dazhi house was arranged from front to back as the kitchen, bathroom, living room, mahjong table, and a large tatami room. The three of us slept together in the tatami room, making it feel warm and cozy. Every night before bed, we laid out cooling mats and turned on the electric fan. Grandma slept on the left, I slept in the middle, and Grandpa slept on the right. Grandma, who was busy all day, always fell asleep first. Grandpa would hold me from behind as I tossed and turned, softly singing children’s songs and gently lulling me to sleep. I will forever remember how beautiful those moments were.
Grandpa often hugged me from behind, smiling as he said, “You are my precious darling, my golden grandchild.” How lucky I was, to be loved so deeply by such grandparents.
When I was hospitalized due to cellulitis in my eye, devastating news came from the hospital. Grandpa had passed away. It was very sudden. Yet perhaps it wasn’t entirely unexpected. My parents had hidden the fact that Grandpa had colon cancer. Maybe they were afraid I would worry myself sick every night, or maybe at that time I still couldn’t understand separation and death.
Grandpa’s passing felt like a dream. Every day, I told myself that once I woke up, I would see Grandpa again. But reality proved otherwise. When Grandpa’s funeral arrived, I felt as though I hadn’t even had time to truly remember what he looked like before I had to say goodbye.
After Grandpa passed away, Grandma’s condition deteriorated rapidly. Not long afterward, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, commonly known as dementia. I was in the second grade then. Grandma became unfamiliar, suspicious, easily angered, and constantly uneasy. She moved to live with us in Linkou. Worried about leaving her alone, we hired a caregiver. Caregivers came and went. Sometimes Grandma would run out in the middle of the night; other times, she would fabricate stories about being beaten by the caregiver. We didn’t believe that the caregivers actually hurt her but we felt heartbroken, because in her eyes, the world had become a place filled with hostility. We poured all our love into Grandma, wanting her to know that she still had us, that we loved her.
I miss the days when I ate every meal with Grandma, occasionally went to the park together, or joined family gatherings. Every night before bed, I would ask if she remembered who I was. She always did. I was that mischievous little granddaughter, the one she loved the most.
I remember the first day of summer vacation in sixth grade. I had plans with friends to visit a newly opened department store nearby. Ring, ring, the phone rang. I signalled my friends to stay quiet. I answered the call, then hung up. I ran home in near collapse. Grandma was sitting in her usual spot on the sofa and had passed away peacefully.
I couldn’t eat and kept telling myself it wasn’t real. Chanting, the seventh-day rites, the fourteenth day, the twenty-first day, seven cycles passed quickly. I didn’t want to face the cold, expressionless Grandma lying in the morgue. I didn’t recognize her.
At the funeral, I didn’t shed a single tear, just like when Grandma passed away. It wasn’t because I was heartless or didn’t love her, but because at twelve years old, I simply could not bear losing the people I loved most, one after another.
Even now, every night when I think of Grandpa and Grandma, my eyes still turn red from crying. The years I spent living in Dazhi with them are memories I will never forget for the rest of my life.
我的阿公阿嬤皆來自雲林，一起種田相識、相愛後結婚。結婚後的他們一起做了許多工作，像
是一起做水泥工、做棉被、一起開油漆店、一起經營麵攤。在當時還不怎麼興盛的大直，買下
了一間小小的樓中樓。還記得當時的陽春麵只要 5 塊，爸爸回憶道。他們用半輩子打拼的 30
萬，買下了屬於我們的回憶。
阿公阿嬤生了七個小孩，兩男五女，我爸爸是小兒子。他是最得人疼的存在，大家的目光都集
中在他身上，包括嚴格、好體罰的阿公、愛碎碎念的阿嬤。阿公阿嬤對爸爸很好。爸爸一直以
來成績都不出色，喜歡體育，喜歡抽煙、騎車。在該念書打拼的年紀，他載女生去陽明山夜衝。
「換作是別人早就被罵了！」回憶起往事的爸爸說道。沒錯，阿公阿嬤在那個重男輕女的年代，
任性的接受了爸爸的任性。
爸爸的風流直到遇見媽媽，才得以改變。可惜的是，阿公並不怎麼待見媽媽。媽媽初拜訪時，
提著一籃水果，阿公酸語道：「要甜的水果還需要你送？」會這樣說的原因是，當時三姑丈的事
業正值巔峰，公司賺了許多錢，每天都給阿公阿嬤送去香甜的水果。阿公不知道的是，天生節
儉的母親，只有在逢年過節、生日時，才吃得上這一口香甜。她不把阿公的不禮貌放在心上，
在相愛約兩年後與爸爸結婚。
一年後，哥哥出生了。因工作繁忙，媽媽拜託正在做冰店的外婆幫忙帶哥哥，哥哥因此在林口
長大。而我，則是媽媽每個月給阿嬤一萬塊，托阿嬤照顧我。因此，我是在大直長大。
在大直的生活，單純得很美好。長大後的每一篇作文，只要與童年、美好、回憶、懷念等相關，
我一定只會寫在大直與阿公阿嬤的故事。我從小白白胖胖，眨著大眼睛，頂著爆炸頭，每個親
戚都喜歡逗弄我，阿公阿嬤更是疼我疼得不行！
小時候，我最愛的零食是乖乖出品的「孔雀餅乾」。將它放進冷凍庫，在熱熱的夏天來上一口，
好不快活！阿嬤非常不喜歡我吃零食，而阿公，總會找尋千百萬個理由，偷偷帶我出去，買我
最愛的孔雀餅乾。
大直房子的一樓結構，由外到內大概是廚房、浴室、客廳、麻將桌、大和室。我們一家老小，三
人睡在和室內，顯得溫馨。每天睡前鋪上涼席，開啟電風扇，阿嬤睡左邊，我睡中間，阿公睡右
邊。先入睡的會是每天忙忙碌碌的阿嬤。阿公則抱著輾轉難眠的我，輕輕地唱著兒歌，緩緩地
哄我入睡。永遠記得當時的美好。
阿公時常從後面抱著我，笑著說：「妳是我的心肝寶貝，我的金孫！」那是多麼幸運的事啊，擁
有這麼愛自己的阿公阿嬤。
在我眼睛因蜂窩性組織炎住院時，醫院傳來噩耗，阿公往生了，非常突然。說來也不突然，爸
媽隱瞞了阿公得大腸癌的事實，或許是害怕我擔心得每晚睡不著覺，又或許是那時候的我還
不理解生離死別？
阿公的往生，好像一場夢。那時的我每天告訴自己，夢醒了，我也就看得見阿公了。事與願違，
阿公的告別式來臨，我好像還來不及好好記住阿公的模樣，就要與他告別了。
阿嬤的情況急轉直下。阿公過世後，沒多久阿嬤即罹患阿茲海默症，也就是俗稱的失智症。那
時的我二年級。阿嬤變得陌生。多疑、愛生氣，已是她的日常。阿嬤搬來我們林口的家住，不放
心她一個人，又請了一個看護。看護來來去去，阿嬤時而半夜跑出去，時而編造看護動手打
她。我們心疼阿嬤，並不是相信她真的被看護打，而是心疼在她的眼裡，世界的一切怎麼都充
滿了惡意？我們用盡一切的愛阿嬤，讓她知道她還有我們，我們愛她。
我想念那時候的我，每天與阿嬤一起共進食，偶爾去趟公園，偶爾去聚餐。每天睡前能問阿嬤
記不記得我是誰，阿嬤總會記得，我是那個調皮的小孫女，她最疼的孫女。
記得小六，放暑假的第一天，和朋友約去附近新開的百貨公司。鈴鈴鈴，電話聲響起，我對朋
友比出「噓」的動作。接起，掛斷。我近乎崩潰地跑回家。阿嬤坐在沙發上那個屬於她的位置，
安詳地離開人世。
我食不下嚥，告訴自己這不是真的。誦經、頭七、二七，七個七很快就過去。我不想面對躺在冰
櫃裡冷冰冰、面無表情的阿嬤。我不認識她。
告別式上，我沒有一滴眼淚，和阿嬤過世時一樣。並不是我無情，或者不愛阿嬤，只是當時小
學 12 歲的我，無法承受摯愛的親人一個接著一個離去。
直至現在的每一個夜晚，當我想起阿公阿嬤，我依舊會難受得哭紅眼。而在大直生活這幾年的
故事，我一輩子都不會忘記。