Halmeoni (Grandmother)
Some grandmothers are sweet and affectionate, but mine told me I was ugly. Tomato, tomahto. She was a witchy old lady with a capital B. Growing up, I commonly heard my grandmother say that if a girl knew how to peel an apple in one long strip, she would make a good wife. In her mind, that's all a girl was good for. I couldn’t help but resent her. She ruled over her daughter-in-law with an iron fist. If my cousins and I were acting out, she told her daughter-in-law that they were raising them wrong. 'Younga is very fat these days; you can save some money by giving her less meat,' she quibbled. 'The soup is very salty; usually, you can do better. What happened?' she would say another time.
My mother was her biggest target, as she was married to my father. He was not the firstborn, but he was the eldest, and she spoiled him rotten. From stories passed down from my sister and my mother, sadly, my grandmother lost her first son after they were born, so she smothered my dad with everything he desired. This didn’t go unnoticed when we took a road trip down to Chico to my aunt's house, all of us kids, my dad, and my grandparents loaded in the Seoul Kalbi van. 'You know, your dad could have been rich,' she said while cracking a hard-boiled egg. 'Really?' I asked. 'Your dad had a proposal from one of the richest families in our city.' As if on cue, the sulfurous smell enveloped me. 'Wow, really?' I gasped. 'Oh yes,' she replied. 'But your mom had to steal him away from her. And your dad ended up with your mom - penniless.' 'Oh,' I softly huffed out. 'He would have been so rich, but look at him now,' she said, staring straight ahead at the road, taking a bite of the overcooked egg. I sat in silence for the rest of the car ride, looking out the window, pondering how I would have turned out with my rich mom. I didn’t hate her for telling me; this was just who she was, a matter of fact. She was infamous for not having any filters and speaking her mind, causing wrecks left and right, making my aunties cry over small incidents. But there were times you couldn’t help but love her. Like the time she joked, 'I love to volunteer to collect tithe at church, just so I can take it for myself.' She cackled. I always thought it was clever, but what the hell did I know? I was only 10 years old.
My grandmother had a taste for the finer things in life, evident in her rent-controlled shoebox of a closet. Amidst the cramped space, one could find designer bags, shoes, and fur coats - just enough for her to rotate during special occasions or church outings. It was her way of projecting an image of success, despite living in assisted living in a modest one-bedroom apartment. Sometimes, I couldn't help but feel that she sought approval from everyone, especially her daughter-in-law, to validate her success in raising children who were expected to marry into the best. She believed that since she had given them the best upbringing, they should reciprocate by providing her with the best in return.
Before my grandmother passed away, she was on bed rest. Somehow, she reverted to her youth. This was a side of her I had never seen; she was sweet and happy, making jokes with me. Not in a mean, scolding way, but as if we were equal—friends even. Not long after, she passed, and I couldn’t forget how happy she was, maybe the happiest I had ever seen her. It wasn’t until some years later that my sister told me she had no choice but to marry my grandfather at the age of 14. If she hadn’t, she would have been a comfort woman for the Japanese soldiers. I never knew that, and why would she have ever told that to a child—her granddaughter? She lived a life that was chosen for her, and she knew it was what she too had been told by generations before her. Her purpose was to marry as a child and to raise children; that was her job. I don’t feel bad for her, but now I have a new appreciation for her and her tough love. I could see she was just trying to prepare me for the real world, making me grow thick skin. And to this day I still think she is a bad bitch - but in a good way.
