Analysis Of Spell Family

“Spell, family!”
“F-A-M-I-L-Y”
“What does the F stand for?”
“I don't know.”
School has taught me the process of photosynthesis, the pythagorean theorem and the history of ancient Greece, but school has never taught me how to say goodbye nor decide what my priorities are. Living in the 21st century, grades, results, and rankings were engraved in our minds to be our priorities. After saying goodbye to Ong Noi, I’ve now realized that it is futile to prioritize digits that colleges assessed.
Ong Noi is what we call our grandfather on our dad’s side in Vietnamese. He had a special ability to appeal to everyone, and was reigned the “perfect family man.” Ong Noi always looked at me in a peculiar way. It was a stare of adoration, but also sorrow.
After starting middle school, I was bombarded with assignments and therefore didn’t feel obligated to converse with Ong. Starting from when I was eleven, every visit, every day, he would stare at me and occasionally be able to blurt a few words out, followed by a series of coughs.
“What are you doing?”
“Homework.”
“Do you want to walk with me?”
“I’m busy.”
“Let me fetch you a glass of orange juice.”
“No.”
Our conversations were driven due to the blood connections but were faintly aloof and repetitive.
Not receiving a reply, made me reflect on the treatment I gave Ong. His questions were never answered, his jokes were never laughed at, and his affection was never returned. Placed in the same situation as Ong Noi brought forth empathy and realization. Before, spending time with family was draining, and the portrait I’ve painted of Ong was grey. Following Ong’s passing, the canvas was splattered with vibrant colors. His lack of presence made all of his actions seem more poignant and inclined me to fill in the gaps he had left. Homework was set to the side, blurred in the background like what I had pictured Ong in the