Introduction
Grandpa as a person, providing context into how these photos contribute to my own story, either filling in the blanks of my memory, or building upon the narrative of me not having had enough chance to know him as a person, of how young I was when he was still alive. I don’t aim to fill the holes with made up context not coming directly from me, but to further lift my own narrative and create refreshed, fond memories of grandpa. 
 

Draft: Many of these pictures, I have never seen before in my life. I don’t remember much of them at all, even if some do seem vaguely familiar. My Vietnamese family doesn't communicate with ‘I love you’s. It’s hard for people to understand why I can’t read the things I pour my heart out on paper to them and see them cry. They won’t allow it, and I don’t think I can bear it either. Maybe that’s why instead of asking my mom for a cherished memory of him that would make her cry, or tell her that I want to write about grandpa because I love him so much, because I miss him, because I wish I had more time with him, I asked her to recount these experiences through pictures. She had thousands of them, taken by her, by my sister, cousins, uncles and aunts, all stuffed in a dusty hard drive that took her (her employee) forever to unlock. Yet, she did all of it for me anyway. 

So, here are some of my - and my family’s - vague recollections of memories cherished, memories stolen, memories retrieved in place of those unspoken ‘I love you’s. 

Photo streams - contexts - streams of consciousness

1. His family

2. Our (big) family, his relationship with his children, grandchildren (mostly)

3. Weaving in a narrative: oFrom memories I don’t have to memories I remember vividly -> final photo

   • His family history is something foreign to me, i only know that they were a regular working class family in one of Vietnam’s most difficult times economically. He never had the chance for a lavish life or a proper education, but still managed to send all four of his children to college, to become a professor. 

   • We’re a big family now, among all my cousins and my sister, I'm the youngest one, with an age gap of at least 7 years. I always felt like the baby of the family, cherished and doted on, but I also feel like I missed out on a lot. Love, fun, drama, inside jokes. 

   • But one thing I didn't miss out on is grandpa’s doting and love. I wish to have collections of drawings I made every weekend when we visit our grandparents. I would sit in his office, pretending I'm working just like him, scribbling on the blank side of a random piece of paper he would hand to me to waste my time on. He looked so busy, I never understood what he was doing. In recollection, I was probably being a huge pain in the ass to take care of, with my desperation to feel included and pampered and spoiled. But he never said no to me, I think I would remember if he did. 

   • He was like that with all of his grandchildren, even his children. My mom idolizes him, my sister and cousins, even the in-laws, only ever have fond memories of him. Maybe it was just in his nature to be sweet and kind and doting. 

   • I can see that in my grandparents’ marriage. 

   • Despite all this though, I like to think that he loved me the most, was the sweetest to me, spoiled me the most, or that i’m the most entertaining kid to be around. I hope I was entertaining until his very last memories with me.