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Description
Twelve people stood in a dark room, a somber mood hung in the atmosphere. A young teen, stared at the figure with tube and wire tentacles coming out from him in all directions. That figure was her grandfather. The doctor’s words still clung to her mind, simple, toneless and icy. “He’s going to die today, no doubt.”

     The patient’s four sons watched in fear, looking at the moaning skeleton of skin and bones that was their father. Their spouses, children, all were praying, hoping, that something would happen. Suddenly a shrieking ring tone broke the silence. The young girl eyed her father’s belt. The man picked up the phone, and after a few minutes, held it to the pale ear of the old man. “Baba… It’s me, Xing Xing.” His one and only daughter’s voice wavered in the phone, half crying. Her heart seemed to stop, waiting for a reply. With what strength he had left, he grunted. Xing Xing was overjoyed to hear her father’s response. With that, his son removed the phone and placed it on his own ear. Once more, the child’s gaze landed on her grandfather.

     Her eyes swung around the room, staring at the dripping faces of her usually happy relatives. She looked up at her Uncle Ding and for the first time in her life, she saw tears in his eyes. This cold, harsh man once dealt with the troubles and hijinks of his father. He always was glaring and angry at his father for causing him so much pain. Yet, now he was crying over the one thing that tired him all his life. Ding reached into his wife’s handbag and pulled out a small flashlight. He wrapped the clammy hands of his father over it. With twitching movements, the old man waved the torch slightly. A stream of light dashed about in the dark. The child saw this and emitted a tiny giggle. She thought of how much he treasured that flashlight and how many hospital roommates it had woken up, along with how many sleepless nights it had caused her uncle’s family.

     When he was finished with his fun, the girl’s mother motioned her towards the cot. Her mom spoke into her ear. “Go say something to him.” The grandchild peered over the railing and held her grandfather’s cold hands. She looked into his blank, spacey eyes, and remembered. She remembered his random phone calls to her father, knowing that his son was on a business trip. She remembered of his struggles with recalling people’s names, and how he called her cousin her father’s son. She remembered how he waved the flashlight in everyone’s faces, allowing no one to sleep. She remembered how he could never sleep at night and pestered her uncle every night. She remembered and tears welded into her eyes, dropping onto his hands. She took a deep breath and whispered, “Go to sleep… Shui jiao ba…”

Description
Twelve people stood in a dark room, a somber mood hung in the atmosphere. A young teen, stared at the figure with tube and wire tentacles coming out from him in all directions. That figure was her grandfather. The doctor’s words still clung to her mind, simple, toneless and icy. “He’s going to die today, no doubt.”

     The patient’s four sons watched in fear, looking at the moaning skeleton of skin and bones that was their father. Their spouses, children, all were praying, hoping, that something would happen. Suddenly a shrieking ring tone broke the silence. The young girl eyed her father’s belt. The man picked up the phone, and after a few minutes, held it to the pale ear of the old man. “Baba… It’s me, Xing Xing.” His one and only daughter’s voice wavered in the phone, half crying. Her heart seemed to stop, waiting for a reply. With what strength he had left, he grunted. Xing Xing was overjoyed to hear her father’s response. With that, his son removed the phone and placed it on his own ear. Once more, the child’s gaze landed on her grandfather.

     Her eyes swung around the room, staring at the dripping faces of her usually happy relatives. She looked up at her Uncle Ding and for the first time in her life, she saw tears in his eyes. This cold, harsh man once dealt with the troubles and hijinks of his father. He always was glaring and angry at his father for causing him so much pain. Yet, now he was crying over the one thing that tired him all his life. Ding reached into his wife’s handbag and pulled out a small flashlight. He wrapped the clammy hands of his father over it. With twitching movements, the old man waved the torch slightly. A stream of light dashed about in the dark. The child saw this and emitted a tiny giggle. She thought of how much he treasured that flashlight and how many hospital roommates it had woken up, along with how many sleepless nights it had caused her uncle’s family.

     When he was finished with his fun, the girl’s mother motioned her towards the cot. Her mom spoke into her ear. “Go say something to him.” The grandchild peered over the railing and held her grandfather’s cold hands. She looked into his blank, spacey eyes, and remembered. She remembered his random phone calls to her father, knowing that his son was on a business trip. She remembered of his struggles with recalling people’s names, and how he called her cousin her father’s son. She remembered how he waved the flashlight in everyone’s faces, allowing no one to sleep. She remembered how he could never sleep at night and pestered her uncle every night. She remembered and tears welded into her eyes, dropping onto his hands. She took a deep breath and whispered, “Go to sleep… Shui jiao ba…”