You see, my family origins stem from the hard work of a honest and humble artisan. My grand-dad lived through the dark ages of Japanese occupation and lived a hard life working from young, often in the labour-intensive, high-risk industries back in early Malaya. He's started working as a sandcaster at an age of 11, a shipwright at age 12, a manual fireman in his twenties, and in his adult years worked on the shipyards as a worker that defied Germans, Americans and Japanese engineers alike to finish tasks they themselves could never complete.
It's been quite some time ever since I paid real attention to the things he's been saying to me and my sister, and I never really appreciated the stories he's been telling me of all the technical details he knows, often giving a cursory hmmph in hopes of him going away. After last night's dream, I kinda feel horribly bad for not giving him the bliss a grandfather should have, being able to share his life story with his children and grand-children, of not giving him the due respect of being the treasure of the family.
So for the past few years, he's been quietly running errands for the family, often staying up late whenever I come home after partying late but yet waking up early to go to the market with my grandma. Thing is, I actually dreamt of him being literate enough to blog about things, and I stumbled upon his woes and grouses on a blog in that dream. Like how he has given everything for us, but how we have always consistently overlooked his contribution. It wasn't pretty, and I don't feel like I've done my part for him as his family.
='(
So today I really sat down and listened to his life story. Sure, he tends to rant and all, but when he showed me his worktools it really shows how clever he really is. All the standard tools we can buy from shops, he has ingeniously tweaked them to be even more useful through various ways of metalcrafting. Forging, sandcasting, shipwrighting, all these artisan skills that have been lost through the ages still lie deep within his hands, and for once, I really am glad to have been able to communicate and understand the uses behind each modified tool he has wrought.
I guess it all runs in the family. All of us guys are equally plagued with health problems, but each of us have a tremendous amount of pride in our work and our lives. Grandpa takes a lot of pride in his tools, almost to the point where his memories of his life stem from these spanners and wrenches which take up so much space that Mom actually disposed of them without regard for his feelings...and hearing him complain about it really makes me sad..after all, I take equal sentiment into my junk, where each letter or each gift is seeded with precious memories I take with me regardless of where I go.
Grandpa, your tools will follow my household no matter how little space I have left in my adobe. It is your legacy, and I'll definitely pass it on as tools of the family.
learning through life's potholes