Remembering Someone Loves You - 100 Ancestors That Touch Middle School Students

Author: Teng Gang
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: "Good luck, good luck, bring me good fortune. With my sincerity, this object serves as proof." Lucky Coin●Written by [USA] Erin Villiger, translated by Wu Chongming
I once went to my grandfather's grave with my grandmother and planted some hyacinth flowers. That day was bright with spring sunshine. My grandmother used a large pair of scissors to trim the grass, ensuring the name on the tombstone was not covered. She whispered something in Hungarian to my grandfather and then quietly prayed for him. I helped my grandmother weed the area. I asked her if she could sit on the tombstone. She said it was no trouble at all—it was my grandfather's home, and one day it would also be hers. Her name—Percy—was already carved into the granite. My grandmother was a devout person, exhausted both physically and mentally. She said she was waiting for God's call.
After our parents divorced, both my sister and I lived with our grandmother. Every summer evening, my grandmother would sit in a rocking chair on the front porch, listening to the crickets chirp. She would knit handkerchiefs with a crochet hook while telling stories about what the crickets were saying, which made my sister and me very happy. When we went to sleep in the house, we would recite a prayer together in Hungarian. If I couldn’t pronounce a word, my grandmother would patiently repeat it. My grandmother was strong-willed but kind, always smiling and warm. She had been using a cane for a long time, walking with difficulty and always watching her feet carefully.
That spring, when I was six years old, I went to the cemetery with my grandmother for a graveside visit. Since we had already been to church, I wore my Sunday dress—a polka-dot skirt with a bow at the back, white shorts, and shiny black shoes. I deliberately dragged my feet, the tip of my shoe tapping against the heel, as I walked among the low, dull tombstones. "Watch your step!" my grandmother warned me. I did need scolding because I was always running around, completely ignoring the obstacles in front of me, which often led to falls. The bandages on my knees and elbows were always proof of my carelessness.
Whenever my grandmother told me something, she would say it slowly and patiently, as if those words were a lighthouse guiding me through life. But I thought she was just an adult trying to control a child, so I often pretended not to hear and continued running around. However, I usually returned to her side, just like that day. Perhaps it was because of this way of walking that my grandmother was especially good at spotting small coins.
On that unusual Sunday, my grandmother found a coin in the freshly cut grass at a tombstone. The coin was mixed with soil and grass, losing its shine and becoming dull. If my grandmother hadn’t reminded me, I would have stepped right over it. She stopped and gently tapped the ground with her cane, saying, "Look there!" Her tone was as if we had found a treasure. "This is a lucky coin. Pick it up." I was very young and superstitious, so I picked it up.
That day was the first time I heard about "lucky coins." They were called "lucky" because only you discovered them while others had never noticed. They were like small gifts, believed to be sent from heaven, according to my grandmother. When you pick up a lucky coin, you should say, "Good luck, good luck, bring me good fortune. With my sincerity, this object serves as proof." My grandmother prayed softly, her voice gentle and melodious—such a soothing sound often lullabies me to sleep in her arms. Listening to her teachings, I felt as if she had sensed the mysteries of the universe.
"When you pick up the lucky coin, make a wish," my grandmother said, asking me to keep it a secret—just like when you blow out birthday candles or make a wish at night. "Keep the lucky coin safe, and one day your wish will come true." I looked at the magic coin in my hand and repeated the incantation, my heart filled with all the things I longed for: I wanted to learn to ride a bicycle, I wanted to throw away the polka-dot skirt hanging in the closet, and I wanted to wear sneakers on Sundays instead of those shiny black shoes.
My grandmother smiled, as if she had read my thoughts, and said, "Make sure it’s a sincere wish." On a warm spring day, I silently prayed in the cemetery—may you live as long as the southern mountains and the evergreen pines, Grandma!
"The lucky coin will stay with you for a long time," my grandmother said, "because some wishes take a long time to come true." Even so, I knew her words were wise. I tucked the lucky coin into my shoe, making sure it was safe; when I went home, I placed it under my pillow, unharmed.
In September of that year, my grandmother passed away. That night, I felt something unusual in the house, so I quietly got out of bed and took the lucky coin I had found with her. It was still in perfect condition. I held it tightly in my hands, knowing that the wishes I haded in it would be difficult to fulfill. I knew that from that day forward, on the day I went to the cemetery, there would also come a day when I would visit my grandmother’s grave.
On the day of the funeral, I found another lucky coin. "Can I have good luck on such a day?" I wondered, wanting to leave it behind, but then I remembered the scene in the cemetery where my grandmother had tapped the lucky coin with her cane. I remembered the sunlight on my face, the fresh scent of newly cut grass, and the granite tombstone in front of us. Now, this was my grandmother’s home. I picked up the lucky coin and tucked it into my black shoes. After returning home from the cemetery, I took my grandmother’s teacup from the cabinet, placed the lucky coin inside, and set the cup on my bedside table.
Now, the lucky coin is still with me. In fact, I have collected thousands of them. I can find them because I inherited my grandmother’s sixth sense. These lucky coins fill my vase, jewelry box, plastic bags, and wallets, filling food cans, biscuit boxes, coffee cups, and porcelain cups. I even use lucky coins as a guide in life. Usually, when I’m in trouble or need to make an important decision, the lucky coin predicts small miracles for me. They make me believe that even the goals I thought were unreachable will eventually come true.
My grandmother said lucky coins were gifts from heaven, but I believe they are gifts from my grandmother. It feels as if she is watching over my life, encouraging me: "Good. Erin!" She called my name in Hungarian: "You will succeed through it." Perhaps the wishes I haveed in the lucky coins have come true—my grandmother has not left me. Every time I pick up a lucky coin, I think of her. I see her leaning on her cane, frail and old, her eyes fixed on her feet. I hear her voice, the lullaby that put me to sleep, and the clear Hungarian prayers she recited in the quiet night.
"Good luck, good luck, bring me good fortune. With my sincerity, this object serves as proof."
The grandmother in Li Yiwen’s article reminds me of my own grandfather. That lucky coin brings back many of his words. As the saying goes, "A wise old man is like a treasure in the family." Others have said, "The passing of an old person is like a library being burned down." The elderly are wise. After weathering half a lifetime, our grandmothers and grandfathers have become the epitome of experience and wisdom.
"Listening to one person’s advice is better than reading ten years of books" perfectly captures this. Parents raise their children to give them strong bodies, while grandmothers and grandfathers raise their grandchildren to nourish their rational spirits and healthy souls. The world is not only pitied by parents but also by the guidance of grandparents toward the younger generation. When the blank canvas of the world is placed before you, it is your grandparents who teach you how to answer. When the subject of life is presented before you, it is your grandparents who teach you how to understand. When the bitter cup of setbacks is placed before you, it is your grandparents who teach you how to drink it down. When the rose of success is placed before you, it is your grandparents who teach you to learn with humility.
We should cherish this hard-won and fleeting time. Unfortunately, many young people today ignore their grandparents’ teachings. Some even dislike their well-meaning advice and speak disrespectfully to them. How tragic!
My grandfather passed away four years ago, but many of his words are still etched in my mind. It is an invaluable treasure, a wealth that cannot be bought again in life!