Grace Loh Prasad
1. THE DISPATCHOne Day You’ll Need This
Dear Son,
I have taken you to Taiwan many times and hope we can go again before too long. But there will come a day when you decide to return on your own, when you aren’t just tagging along but are propelled by some inner motivation or curiosity to learn about your heritage and your ancestors. If that should happen when I am no longer around to guide you, I want to leave you these instructions so that you can return to the places that matter.
When I was growing up my parents took me to Taiwan many times, and after they moved back I visited almost every year. They used to pick me up at the airport; from the minute I arrived I never had to worry about getting around on my own. But when their health started to decline and they were less mobile, I had to learn to navigate by myself. None of these addresses are written down; everything I know is from memory and repetition.
You haven’t had this lifelong training, and you don’t know any Taiwanese or Mandarin, so you will have to travel twice as far to reach the same place. I once felt this way too—like Taiwan was distant and unknowable, a locked box. But one day it will call to you. When you go, bring this letter and these four photos with you.
* * *
The Airport
You passed through here when you were only eight months old, on your way to meet Grandma and Grandpa for the first time. You probably don’t think of the airport as a place of any significance; I didn’t either until the eve of Lunar New Year 2000, when I was denied entry and detained overnight in a cold, windowless dormitory at the airport because my U.S. passport had expired. My heart still pounds thinking about it. I was all alone, stranded at an international border, unable to prove my identity, dealing with hostile immigration officials who looked down on me for not speaking the language.
Let my mistake be a lesson to you: Always double-check your passport before you go abroad!
* * *
Mackay Memorial Hospital
Ever since I was a child, before I knew how to navigate Taipei by myself, the hospital with the red brick colonnade on Chung Shan (Zhongshan) Road has always been part of my mental map, an imaginary midpoint between the shopping district around Taipei Main Station and the Grand Hotel.
This hospital is where I took my first breath and where Grandpa took his last. During Grandpa’s final year, I spent countless hours in those forlorn hospital rooms, leaving only to get food or to walk down the hall to call you and Dad on FaceTime. One time an entire family silently gathered at the window at the end of the hallway. I thought they were eavesdropping on us, but then I realized they were just watching the sunset, seeking a moment of relief from their own vigil.
To get there, take the MRT red line and get off at Shuanglien. You can also get into a cab and say “MA KAI” and they will know you mean here.
* * *
Church on Linsen Road
Walking distance from Mackay (MRT: Zhongshan) is Zhongshan Presbyterian Church; my parents always called it “the church on Linsen Road.” You can’t miss its distinctive Gothic architecture occupying a corner surrounded by high rises.
We were there in the summer of 2016 for Grandpa’s memorial. I was nervous because I was asked to read a short piece of writing for the service. Unlike Grandma’s funeral in 2014, I was the only immediate family member left, so all eyes were on me. For the first time ever, I had to represent my family. Hundreds of people attended Grandpa’s service, and a few even came from overseas. So many people came up to offer condolences and even though I couldn’t understand them, their sad eyes and gentle hands on my shoulder said everything.
But you know what I remember most? One of Grandpa’s friends showed me a narrow corkscrew stairway that led to a small balcony above the nave where they controlled the lights and audiovisuals. He explained in English that when Grandpa was a young man, he was the choir director at this church, which was how he met Grandma. During breaks in choir practice, the two of them would sneak up to the balcony and Grandpa would share a piece of candy with her secretly, away from everyone else. What an unexpected gift, this memory of sweetness on the saddest day.
If anyone asks who you are, show them the photo of Grandma’s big book—the Kao Family History—and tell them you are the Great Grand Nephew of Rev. Kao Chun-ming 高俊明.
* * *
Yangmingshan
Yangmingshan mountain is a national park at the northern edge of Taipei that’s famous for sulfur hot springs and cherry blossoms. It’s also where Taiwan Theological Seminary is located and where my family lived when I was born. At the time, Grandpa was the youngest ever dean of the seminary. All my baby photos were taken here.
The seminary is where my parents met the American missionaries who befriended a well-known Taiwanese dissident who was under house arrest, trailed everywhere by Kuomintang agents. Through an elaborate plan, the missionaries helped the dissident escape and seek asylum abroad. Although my parents were not directly involved, they were afraid of what might happen next so our family fled to the United States in 1971. Every story I tell comes back to this moment: it’s the reason I grew up American.
Twenty years later, martial law was finally lifted and Grandma and Grandpa returned to Taiwan. Grandma was hired as a professor at the seminary and they moved back to Yangmingshan for a few years. The only house my family has ever lived in, we lived in twice.
To get there, take bus 109 from Jiantan MRT Station (near the Shihlin Night Market) or bus 260 from Taipei Main Station. Walk past the main seminary building with the pagoda and look for the house with tan hua, Grandma’s favorite flower that blooms once a year.
* * *
San Hsia
San Hsia (Sanxia) means three gorges—a place where three rivers meet. Grandma and Grandpa lived their final years in this suburb of Taipei in an apartment complex of tall pink towers with a koi pond in the courtyard. Do you remember that apartment we visited so many times—where you watched cartoons, ate platters of cut guava and mango, where you and Grandpa batted around a balloon in the living room before Parkinson’s took its toll on him? That home no longer exists except in our memories. But you can still find Great Auntie’s family at the Compound a few blocks away, the closest thing we have to an ancestral home.
I once had a nightmare that I couldn’t remember how to get to San Hsia, so I wrote it down. Take the MRT yellow line to Jingan Station. When you exit, look for a sign of a man with a thick beard (that’s Formosa Chang, a Taiwanese bento chain) to find the bus stop. Take bus 908 to San Hsia and get off on Chung Shan Road right after you see the temple. Turn right on Ren Ai Road and you’ll see a green and white sign for your uncle’s dental clinic (by the time you visit it will be run by his son, your cousin Johnny). When you arrive, show them the photo of you, me, and Grandpa, and they will erupt with recognition and invite you in.
* * *
Tienpin
The final place I want you to visit is the hardest to get to but the most important. You will have to take a taxi; show this to the driver: 天品山莊. Tienpin is the columbarium where Grandma and Grandpa’s ashes are kept. Do you remember the twisty roads leading to the vaguely church-shaped building next to a lawn decorated with fake sheep? Inside are endless hallways of pristine white niches, like lockers for the dead. At the lobby, show them the photo of Grandma and Grandpa’s niche and they will help you find it.
The niche is at knee level; they will give you a stool and a small key to unlock it. Grandpa is in the green urn and Grandma is in the pink one. Remember when you made that rose out of gold origami paper? I put it in the niche last time I visited. Now it’s your turn to add something—the last photo, the one of me. This will be my reunion with Grandma and Grandpa. Close your eyes and stay for a while. Try to remember their voices, and mine. Hum the tune I taught you, the famous hymn written by your Great Grandpa, and you will feel a breeze as the spirits of your ancestors embrace you and welcome you home.
Always with you,
Mom
2. BUREAU INVENTORYHello Kitty shaped tin
Temporary tattoo of a rose
Taiwan travel stickers
Ruth Asawa postage stamps
Photo booth photos from high school
Yayoi Kusama origami crane
Tiny Totoro with an umbrella
My son’s school portrait
An Elizabeth Warren pin
3. BIOGRAPHYGrace Loh Prasad was born in Taiwan and raised in New Jersey and Hong Kong before settling in the San Francisco Bay Area. Grace received her MFA in Creative Writing from Mills College and is an alumna of Tin House and VONA. Her essays have appeared in The New York Times, Longreads, Artsy, Hyperallergic, Catapult, Jellyfish Review, KHÔRA, and elsewhere. Grace is a member of The Writers Grotto and Seventeen Syllables, an AAPI writers collective. Follow her on Twitter @GraceLP.