My grandmother was awesome. I’ve always had trouble sleeping and can’t really remember not being an insomniac. Sometimes I would wake up when we were at my Aunt’s house in Virginia visiting and my grandmother would be right there asking me if I was hungry. She only spoke in Vietnamese, but I feel like we understood each other well. She would offer me Ritz crackers or some rice and I would try to go back to sleep. I loved hanging out with her when I got the chance to. I remember we used to watch Mr. Ed together. Even though he spoke in English, it amused both of us that he was a talking horse. My grandmother wore traditional Vietnamese clothing and had a hearty laugh and smile. She used to hold my hands and talk to me in Vietnamese and I would just sit and listen to her. I had no idea what she was saying but I loved her dearly. When she died, we traveled up to her funeral and it felt more like a family reunion than anything. I overheard one of my cousins say that she used to always remark that her grandchildren had beautiful hands. I took in that moment and thought back on all the times she admired my hands and talked to me. It was customary to wear these white bandanas around our heads at the funeral and then for an entire year. I was told that you were supposed to bring the bandana back to her grave after the year was up. I lost mine at the funeral and was pretty depressed about it for a long time. I thought about it the whole year and felt like I’d failed.