I was looking through my old paintings and I found this portrait I did of my grandpa five years ago. 

My grandfather been in the ICU since last November. I got to visit him in the hospital the past winter in Taiwan. When I saw him bone skinny lying on the hospital bed with a breathing tube, I couldn't help but to burst into to tears. To be honest I can't say I've ever been that close with my grandparents. Even though I often travel to Taiwan to visit my extended family, my grandpa only speaks Taiwanese dialect where as I can only speak Mandarin; the language barrier always made it difficult for us to create a strong bond. So I was surprised how when I saw him I felt so broken. Maybe it was from guilt that I didn't try harder to have a relationship with him, that maybe him lying suffering in the hospital will be the last memory I will share with him. 

I'm not sure.

My mother been in Taiwan the past two months taking care of my grandpa. Her goal is to take him to back to his hometown at least once. Yet as I talk to her on the phone, I feel like she's loosing hope. 

The smiley face of grandpa from the portrait seems so distant now. Yet all I can do is to keep him in my prayers and try to keep that image of him alive.