By Viet Mai

My grandma died
and I don’t know how to cry about it.

I was too busy working.
Too busy playing Halloween.
Too busy trying to create a future,
that I forgot about losing my past.

My bloodlines feel so thin at times,
it’s no wonder why I get anemic.

My roots,
are only as deep as San Diego suburbs.
I was still a cub,
when I learned how to separate from the den.
I then learned that family,
was anyone who fed me
or let me sleep on their couch.

The only thing I knew about my grandmother
is that she was a gambler.
How bad?
I have no idea–
What was her hustle?
No clue.

Apparently grandma was senile
and had been for a while.
How long?
I don’t know.
How old was she?
90 something.
How did she…?
I don’t know.

Was she nice?
Was she funny?
Did she tell stories?
What kind of stories did SHE have?!

I don’t know.
I don’t know…
I don’t know!
I DON’T KNOW!!!

You know,
There should be one of those mini lessons,
in social studies class,
that says something about
ethnic ceremonies and customs.
How to properly honor our past.

And science,
should teach something about
family trees
that look more like bushes.
And fallen leaves,
that aren’t sure which branch
they come from.

I never enjoyed history
because I could never connect to it.
I learned more about war
than I did about tradition.

I learned that foreign languages
are only required to get into universities–
Two years minimum,
Four is a plus.

So I pretended to have cooties
when partnered up
with the new Vietnamese girl
that didn’t speak English.
I didn’t understand
why the Vietnamese boy
called me a disgrace.
Shit…I was gettin straight As
AND stars on the green card!

I was taught that I was good at math and science.
So I learned that there’s a solution to everything,
And everything has a formula.
So through science,
I learned that death
is a part of life.
Because the dead
decomposes
back into the ecosystem for the living.

But I never understood why division was so difficult.
Why subtraction was so confusing.
How can you just “take away”
when I never had enough to begin with?
I couldn’t just borrow from the neighbor–
That was as foreign to me
as my knowledge of family history.

And I was taught that history
wasn’t as important–
Only two years required in the A-through-G.
I learned that history
is why I have four half brothers.

I learned that art
was only an elective
and I didn’t have to express myself
if I didn’t want to.
I could just get the credit.

Yeah,
just get the credit.
Don’t waste time with feelings or emotions.
They don’t put food on the table,
a roof over your head,
or clothes on your back.

I learned that crying
was only allowed for injuries–
cuts,
broken bones,
bruises.
Belts,
Feather dusters,
Wooden spoons–
Chanclas flying across the room.

I learned about 911,
Stop, drop and roll,
Duck and cover.
And wait for the teacher’s direction.

But there were no drills that taught me
how to deal with tragedy.

I never learned what to do
when mom breaks down.

There was no manual
for pushing the wrong buttons.
No instructions
when the remote sense of control is lost.

I was just told to “find it”
Whenever something was lost.

And I’m looking,
but I can’t find it
because I don’t even know
what ‘it’
is.

So I’m sorry, Grandma.

No one taught me how to find it.

And whatever it is…
I’m afraid
it’s gone.

 

Viet Mai reads Fallen Leaves and is interviewed by Viet News TV in 2014.

Viet Mai is a poet from San Diego. As a member of the 2013 ELEVATED! Slam Team, Viet represented San Diego to rank 4th place at the National Poetry Slam in Boston, MA. He focuses his writing and performing towards education, community development, self reflection, and empowerment. In addition to co-hosting open mics, ELEVATED! and Poetic Avenue, Viet also serves as a Program Facilitator with the Village of Promise Collective Mentoring Program, and an Independent Consultant, specializing in School Data and Assessment. For more information visit www.vietmai.com.