I remember the first time I realized something was out of the ordinary. It was Bachan’s 80th birthday, we were at the table having lunch and my son Leon, who was just over one year old, was taking his clumsy little steps around the room, making a mess and laughing.
My grandmother then, surprised, looked around, smiled, and said:
“Look! There’s a child here!”
“Yes, Bachan, it’s my son!”, I answered.
She then looked at me with a distant look:
“Your son?”
“Yes, Bachan, my son.”
Silence.
More lost looks…
“Bachan, do you know who I am?”
Silence and doubt.
“Bachan, I’m Marjorie, your oldest granddaughter, remember?”
“My granddaughter?”
“Bachan, do you know whose daughter I am?”
“Of who you chose to be!”, and she let out a huge smile.
I laughed along with her and soon after the look was lost again.
Leon did something funny and she, surprised, said:
“Look! There’s a child here!”
Since that day, 5 years have passed and everything that made my grandmother who she was, an intense, intellectual, strong, and independent woman, is in the past. Everything happened so fast and at the same time so slowly…
Gradually, the lunches started to be accompanied, the looks became more lost, and the silences grew longer…
But the kids still make her smile.
“Oyasumi Bachan” *Good night grandma
(Tiseko Yamaguchi)
Marjô Mizumoto
2021-2022
Oil on canvas
120 x 160 x 3,5 cm
(Sérgio Carvalho Collection)
Photo by Filipe Berndt
| English version by AD Language Services