Gong Gong: 1936 - 2020
My Gong Gong (grandpa) passed away yesterday. He was 84 and he passed peacefully in his sleep.
I’m not sure if I would call it grief, but I am heartbroken for the man that I didn’t get to know. I’ve only met him twice in my life (once when I was seven and last year when I was 20), and we never shared the same language.
I am heartbroken because I know that even though we were never fully in each other’s lives, so much of my life is influenced by him. He was my mom’s dad, and I grew up hearing funny stories about his life and what he used to do.
Even though my Gong Gong only had a second grade education, my Gong Gong put in the work and grinded. He learned all about the stock markets on his own, was a landowner at just 19 years old, and was even an award-winning photographer in Malaysia. He never had debt, and he was famous in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, the biggest city, for his calligraphy. People from all over would go to my mom’s house just for him to write special messages for weddings, Chinese New Year’s, and special occasions.
I don’t doubt that he’s the reason why my sisters, mom, and I have such a strong love for photography and a sense of entrepreneurship.
When we were little, my mom would always tell us stories about growing up with a dark room in their bathroom and a photo processing room that took over the kitchen in their very small apartment. My Poh Poh (grandma) made it werk, and would cook meals in their hallway.
Last summer, when we visited Gong Gong and Poh Poh, we got to flip through his old photo albums and see all of the photos he had taken throughout the years. From stunning photos of Poh Poh to baby photos of my mom, I loved that Gong Gong loved to capture memories just as much as I do.
My sister Simone captured this photo of my Gong Gong the day we visited him in June. It’s one of my favorite photos because it shows him, as the man he was in that moment, and the man that he was when he was younger. And honestly, Gong Gong was a stunner.
I feel a big mix of emotions, but overall I am just sad. I’m sad that my mom lost her dad, and I’m sad that I never broke through the language barrier to be able to have an independent conversation with him about his life. This is the first time I’ve ever lost a grandparent, and to put it blankly, it sucks.
It feels like now more than ever, I feel both a huge connection and disconnection to my culture. I am so proudly Hakka Chinese, Malaysian, and American, yet at the same time I can hardly speak any of the languages and communicate with loved ones without a translator. Does that make me less of who I am? I don’t know.
The answer is probably no, but it’s hard to think otherwise. Anyway. Rest in peace, Gong Gong. Every time I take photos, I’ll forever think of you.