When I was a baby, my grandfather would always take care of me.  While my mom and dad were at work, he was the one to keep me entertained and happy, while grandma was cooking and cleaning the house.   My grandpa would walk me outside and play with me.  More important though, he made sure I took a nap, he fed me, and he gave me lots of love.

When I was almost two years old, I got my first bee sting.  As usual, my mom and dad were at work, so my grandpa called our neighbors.  When my neighbor came over, my grandpa had to find a way to tell her that I was stung by a bee, so he took the bee and dropped it into my neighbor’s hand.  My neighbor saw the bee in her hand, and immediately understood the meaning my grandpa was trying to convey.  Our neighbor then drove us to the hospital, where they applied cream to it and decreased the swelling.

My grandpa could’ve just waited for my mom to come home, but he went through the trouble of trying to communicate with someone who didn’t speak the same language as him, because he was concerned about me.  Although I cannot remember this event, my parents have told me it over and over.  This story is a symbol of my grandfather’s caring and loving heart.

When my grandfather came back to America four years ago, he always took time to talk to me, even when the only response he would get was a nod or grunt.  He asked me what I learned in school, and what I ate for lunch.  Some days I would tell him I was busy, and that I couldn’t talk.  The next day though, he would always be there, asking me how my day was.  He never got discouraged, because he really cared.  And he never got mad, because he loved me.

A man of hard working, persistence, intelligence, and respect! He lived his life full and he left with love and memory. He was a father that every child would be proud to have.

Dad had a very good life.  He enjoyed many important and good things life could offer.

Family and friends – a big, close family, most in China, and many friends.  Many are here for this send-off party.  He loved to spend time with his friends at Chinese school every Saturday.  This is a fit time to say goodbye to him.

Food – he enjoyed all kinds of food, both good and bad, using his own words, ?? ????, ??????, ??????.

Cigarette – he started smoking when he was a teenager, lasted for half-a-century.  It was the cigarette that eventually killed him.  But he really enjoyed it.  So, who are we to say smoking is bad for him?

Wine – Jing told me when we just started dating years ago – ?????????, ?????????.  He loved to drink and tell his stories.

And most importantly, dad enjoyed ONE good woman.  Mom takes very good care of him.  And because of his good fortune, we, the children, are well taken care of too.  Thank you so much, mom.

Dad was a very lucky man, had a good life.


He had little schooling when he grew up, and yet, he was a very well learnt man.  He worked very hard to learn by himself, stroke by stroke, character by character.  Besides MaJiang, reading was his best pass-time.  He went through most of the Chinese books in Livingston Library’s collections.  He read till the day before he died.

He was a very proud man too.  Here is a story.  He smoked many years and wouldn’t quit.  In 1997 when he came to the States to visit us for the first time, Jing and I decided to give him a little help – we didn’t buy any cigarettes, not even mention it.  And since he couldn’t speak any English, he couldn’t buy any cigarette himself.  He was too proud to ask me or Jing to buy cigarette for him.  He stayed with us for about a year and he quitted smoking.  Years later, when I talked with him about that, he admitted it was very difficult to deal with the urge to smoke for quite a few months, but he was glad he stopped smoking.

So long, dad, you take good care of yourself over there.

OBITUARY

Weizhou Gao

June 22, 1934 – April 22, 2010

Quinn-Hopping Funeral Home

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