It’s shocking how much one year’s difference makes when you grow older. When I flew back to Taiwan this summer to visit my grandparents, I was shocked. My 93-year-old grandfather’s once voracious appetite had escaped with each crackling breath. My 90-year-old grandmother’s once sound conscience had vanished as dementia creeped into her mind. My grandparents, though lovable and talkative as usual, were mere shells of their past selves.
Through broken Hokkien, I gradually came to understand my grandparents’ emotions. They weren’t angry because they were angry. They were angry about past regrets and matters.
My grandmother complained that no one appreciated her. No one acknowledges me for the things I did for this household! I did so much for all of you, but none of you care!
My grandfather was, quite simply, angry that he was still living. I don’t even know why I bother waking up every day. I’m just waiting to die.
As a granddaughter, I was devastated. Having always idolized them for their longevity and happiness, I realized that they didn’t enjoy life as much as they had in previous years. Gradually, I began to reflect on my (comparably) short life and my aspirations. Truthfully, I’m afraid that I will grow old like them, a cantankerous old hag screaming at the TV. These thoughts sparked my own journey into discovering what it means to enjoy life to the fullest.
I quickly found inspiration in the cackling voice of Lin-san. A seasoned tour guide, Lin-san accompanied my family throughout our trip in Hokkaido, Japan. (“Don’t call me Mr. Lin! Just call me Lin-san! I’m practically a citizen anyways!”) With a full head of jet-black hair, Lin-san exuded the confidence and energy of a brash 6-year-old. He constantly entertained us through stories of Japan’s history, lingering on tales he found hilarious or insightful. He gleefully led us through winding mountain trails and local townships, babbling scratchy Japanese to the locals.
“How old do you think I am?” Lin-san challenged us over a plate of cantaloupe. “Go on, guess!”
Fifty? “Nope.” Fifty-five? “Nope!” We continued guessing, failing to get any closer to the answer.
“I’m actually 75,” Lin-san grinned. Seventy-five?! The entire entourage was shocked.
“People are often surprised when I tell them that I’m actually so old,” Lin-san continued. “I mean, I’m 75, and I’m still leading these tours!
“But let me tell you a secret. I wasn’t always this active. I came to Japan as an exchange student in college, and I left with all the intentions to come back. But Taiwan… My life in Taiwan was just so stressed and hectic that I didn’t even have time to consider coming back. I realized that I wasn’t doing the things I wanted to do, so I decided to quit my job and take up a new job: being a tour guide.”
Lin-san sighed. “I’ve never looked back once. I’ve been doing this job for over 20 years, and I get younger every day.” He paused, looking at each of us. “I realized that the secret to a happy life is self-satisfaction. Be happy with what you’re doing, what you did before, what you’re going to do later. It’s so much better to live in the moment than to live with regrets.”
I watched this 75-year-old man gallivant his way throughout Hokkaido, and I reflected on my grandparents. Sure, my grandparents were a lot older than Lin-san, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t find something to enjoy in life. To achieve his happiness, Lin-san gave up his job -- a big step for anyone, by any means. Furthermore, he found happiness in anything as opposed to my grandparents’ rage in trivial matters. Being old didn’t mean you had to stop doing the things you loved. In fact, being old gives you even more chances to enjoy and savor every single thing, no matter how big or small.
As I transition from high school to college, I’m carrying Lin-san’s words with me. It’s a whole new world, and I’ll always find time to enjoy every minute of it.
