Sweet and Sour

Love. Love is what my weh-halmoni (Korean word for maternal grandmother) has taught me so far in the 14 years of my life, and a lesson I will treasure forever. As a child, I’ve heard horrifying stories, about my weh-halmoni from my mom, her two sisters and brother.  These stories could be from my weh-halmoni hitting my mom’s hand with a ruler when she played a wrong note on the piano, or at most extreme cases, grab hold of my mom’s or aunts’ head and bang it against the floor. Me, being the stubborn and grandma loving kid I was, never fully heartedly believed these stories. However, this skepticism didn’t last very long when I was able to experience my weh-halmoni’s scary side during one summer. I think I was about six and my parents were meeting some old friends meaning that I had to be at my grandparent’s house. All my aunts and uncles married and left the house, so there was nobody to play with me like the old times, so I decided to draw. I was right by the telephone, and I still remember as ridiculous it sounds, drawing flowers and balloons. Then, the telephone rings, and my weh-halmoni rushes to pick it up. The next thing I know, I see my weh-halmoni jotting down a note from her call on my drawing. Soon after, I’m screaming at the top of my lungs for my grandmother to stop writing and see what she’s done. In Korean tradition, it is very rude to interrupt an adult or anybody when they are on the phone. And I just broke that rule in front of the woman my mom and aunts warned was scary.

After ending her call, my weh-halmoni’s frightening side was revealed unto me. I don’t remember much on what she did, but only that I cried so much that the top half of my shirt was drenched with tears. My weh-haraboji (maternal grandfather) came into the living room, and takes me gently by the arm to the master bedroom. I remember after that, reading Bob books with my weh-haraboji, and when we finished all of them, we began coloring them until my parents came back. My parents came back in the late afternoon, and somehow my weh-halmoni and I apologized to one another and went back to normal. Maybe because I’ve grown up and matured, or that my weh-halmoni felt about getting mad at me, we haven’t anything close to what happened that summer, ever since.

Despite the depressing story about my grandmother and me, there are even more happy stories that fill and pour out of the hole from the sad ones. One of them, happens every week when I call my maternal grandparents. My weh-halmoni always tells me that all she asks from me is my health and happiness. From my weh-halmoni, I’ve realized that love isn’t measured by one's achievements, looks, or other materialistic feats today’s society claims equals success. I’ve learned that true love comes from breaking hearts but then mending them to create a stronger relationship in the long run, instead of a superficial relationship where no fights take place. You have to see both the sour and sweet sides of a person to have a relationship bonded with true love. My weh-halmoni was one such person who revealed both her sweet and sour sides to me.

~ Stephanie Y.