Sitting in my childhood, in the shadow of my grandfather’s old armchair, I imagined him reading a storybook to me. Grandpa, a wise and humorous storyteller with a silver crown of hair, would paint vibrant colors in my imagination with his stories and philosophies. I remember the story of Mulan disguising herself as a man to take her father's place in the army. 

“She is exceptionally daring and determined, overcoming challenges and fighting alongside.” He praised and gently patted my shoulders, “Be brave.”

They danced with his love, with past lives, with future hopes. He was my confidant, a gentle repository for my joys and sorrows.

Teen years rolled in, soon my best friend turned into a glaring screen.The  digital world ensnared me, creating a chasm between us as he remained a stranger to the world of cell phones.

I remember his confusion and frustration about how hard it was to video call people.

“Learn it then,” I answered, scrolling through some TikTok dance videos, “I’ll teach you how—someday.” 

He nodded silently.

The promised lesson never came as I had to leave for high school.

Time flew when I got to my new school. New friends, new classes, new sports occupied most of my time. I still chatted with him at my grandma’s video call.

Whenever he saw me, he always smiled and asked how I was doing.

“Good good,” I answered, focusing my eyes on the new Tik Tok dance, “I have work now, bye!” I always hung off the phone like that.

I turned 15 a few weeks after. I grew older only to reach the painful realization that we could not grow older together. It was like he was falling behind me and he could never catch up while I naively thought everything was perfectly fine. 

We got further and further apart until we were literally apart.

One winter night, right before Christmas break, right before I would be home, Mom called me.

“Grandpa just passed.” Her voice barely whispered.

Shock left me speechless, words eluding my grasp. His laughter, jokes silenced overnight. His armchair cold and vacant, tales left incomplete. Everything happened like a hasty storm, too quick for a proper goodbye. I didn’t even get to see him one last time.

For months, I found myself marooned in the emptiness he left, where I kept telling myself he was just mad at me for ignoring him so he went on a vacation. TikTok videos and games weren’t attractive anymore. His stories and philosophies echoed in my brain from day to night. I eventually cut cords with virtual retreat and began to observe the world around me. The spring sakuras were lively and delicate like ballet dancers. Teaching my grandma how to call her friend brought much more pride than winning a PUBG game. 

I guess it was his last life philosophy: cherish people who care about me instead of blocking them away. At the crossroad of adolescence and adulthood, he taught me the hard lesson not through his tales, but through his departure. The final chapter of his story closed, whereas mine awaited the fresh ink. 

Show your love, cherish every shared second, silence your phone, turn to their voices, make every day memorable. I wrote the words in chants he always loved to make. Time is fleeting but long enough for me to dial the long-overdue phone call before another winter sets in.