During our nightly rituals, we'd sit bedside and I'd put my arm around her while we chatted about the days events. We laughed. We cried. We shared our fears and our wishes.

And it was at this time I chose to ask my Grandma what her favorite song was. She thought for a moment and replied, "Christmas carols."

"Uh...how about something else? Something non-holiday related..."

"Why?" she inquired.

I didn't want to bring up the video or anything morose so I blurted, "I'm going to make a documentary on our family. A video of sort. Or of some...thing..."

She knew what I was up to.

"Krystyn Chong"

Oh no. Whenever my Grandmother calls me by my full name - Krystyn Chong as if "Chong" represents not doing exactly what I should be doing, I know she's serious.

"You better not make a video, Krystyn Chong!"

"Grandma, people will enjoy and appreciate knowing everything you've accomplished. You never share these stories or talk about what you've achieved." I argued in my defense.

She shakes her head. "Nobody cares about the video. It doesn't matter..."

I turn away so she won't see the tears that have welled up in my eyes.

"It's too much, Krystyn. People don't want to sit there on their oshiti for hours and see my life flash before theirs." ("oshiti" means "butt" in japanese)

I'm silent. She's so dramatic.

She's denying me the one thing I can do for her because she's worried about about people's oshiti's?!

"So I'm not doing a video, what if my mom wants me to speak?"

"No" she says sternly.

"But Grandma..."

She's easier on me this time, perhaps aware of my angst in not doing exactly what I should be doing. "What would you say?" she asks me.

"I'd say my Grandma wouldn't let me make a video. She's worried about your oshiti hurting when this is over and blaming it on the lengthy service.

We share a good laugh.

"If you can think of something nobody knows, you can speak about it." She tells me.

I sat and contemplated for a minute. What's that mean? Is she trying to tell me something but not tell me - because I should already know?

My Grandmother doesn't share much so there has to be things people don't know, I thought to myself. This will be good. I'll find something.

But in the ensuing days that followed, I didn't find that something. I failed, though I think I figured out the lesson my Grandma wanted me to learn.

Everybody knows her passions.
You know she loves golf.  You know she had an immense love for flowers, her friends, and her family.

Over the past 5 months I've witnessed numerous interactions and spoken with many of my Grandmother's friends as well as family members, who've relayed their stories of how she touched their lives, how she changed their lives in that they are the person they are today because of her.

In Japanese tradition, you visit and bring food to offer your condolences and honor the deceased.

I want to thank you for sharing my Grandma and her stories with me. Words cannot express how much these conversations meant to me. In each of these moments I felt an immense pride that I was her granddaughter and her caregiver.

Your concern, your words, your phone calls, and your presence honor her.

My Grandma did not need people to know this. She did not need a video to show this.

Surprisingly, she responded "Maybe."

That maybe came a week later when my Mom came running up the stairs on a Wednesday afternoon. "Grandma's speaking spanish to Ana (a longtime friend of the family)!"

"What? What are you saying? She's speaking Spanish?"

"Yes! I heard her ask Ana questions in Spanish and Ana answered back and Grandma responded. In Spanish!"

 Just then, Ana comes upstairs.

"Krystee, your Grandma is a very smart woman." she tells me.

"What happened?"

Ana goes on to tell me my Grandma had inquired about her age, if she had children and that she seems younger and looked very pretty. Ana answered her questions and then asked my Grandma how she feeling and said my Grandma replied "I am good. My family takes good care of me."

Ana hugs me and wipes my tears away.

I gather myself and go downstairs where my Grandmother is reading the newspaper. "Grandma! How come you never spoke Spanish before!?" I ask.

Her answer was simply, "You never asked me anything in Spanish before."

That evening when I tucked her in and kissed her cheek goodnight she squeezed my hand and said, "Now you have something to speak about."

I smile and press my face next to hers. "Thank you, Grandma. I love you."

She responds in a whisper, "I love you, too, honey. I love you, too."