Grandpa Fu’s Suitcase

Following Grandpa Fu’s funeral, his children took the necessary steps to prepare the house for sale, because none of his three children lived in Taiwan. Relatives were invited to inspect his belongings, including a desk, two chairs, a bookshelf filled with books, and a pair of leather shoes that he had only worn a handful of times. In addition, a few inexpensive trinkets from Grandpa Fu’s collection were also given away.

They found that beneath Grandpa Fu’s bed lay a suitcase made from genuine leather and sewn with sturdy thread. In the case, they discovered a meticulously crafted interior of durable fabric that concealed the leather seams. Nestled inside was a dark gray suit, untouched and never before seen on Grandpa. Though it was slightly mildewed, its delicate texture still could be appreciated by touch. Alongside the suit lay a first-aid kit, a water bottle, and a pack of dehydrated food that had expired around the time before Grandpa Fu fell ill. In addition, there were provisions for personal hygiene, including a toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, a clean towel, fresh underwear, and a pair of new socks.

Under everything else lay a photo of Grandpa Fu’s parents. The image was so faded and brittle that it threatened to crumble at the slightest touch. Obviously the suitcase was Grandpa Fu’s preparation in case he had to embark on a hurried trip with very short notice. Grandpa Fu moved to Taiwan in 1949, he was a soldier first, then a refugee, then his prolonged exile made him one of the millions of the Chinese diaspora.

All the relatives witnessing the revelation of Grandpa Fu’s secret suitcase were bewildered. Did he still believe he was going home to China? The dried food was still good a couple of years ago, Grandpa Fu wouldn’t still expect to return after more than seventy years of the civil war. Grandpa Fu was never affected by dementia or delusion, his mind remained clear even his frail body betrayed his strong mind during his last days.

Grandpa Fu’s eldest son Ming-Cheng carefully retrieved the pictures of his grandparents whom he had never met. He brought them to a photo development business for digital repair and ordered several copies of the digitally restored photos for his brother and sister, and his own children.

Ming-Cheng went to study in the US after completing his college education in Taiwan and fulfilling his mandatory military service. He pursued a degree in information technology because he was advised that this profession had the highest likelihood of providing opportunities for foreigners to settle down in the US. Following in his footsteps, Ming-Cheng’s brother, Ming-Chih, also moved to the US several years later. Ming-Chih’s expertise was in biotech and pharmacy, which were highly sought after in the US during the 1990s. Meanwhile, their younger sister, Ming-Jen, went to Japan, where she became an interpreter of Chinese-Japanese languages for diplomats.

The three siblings hardly had any chance to reunite, they usually took turns to visit their parents in Taiwan. Even though both of the brothers were living in the US, one was in Chicago, another in San Francisco, they also rarely met. After their mother’s passing, the siblings hired a caretaker to prepare meals for Grandpa Fu and ensured he received medical attention and renewed his prescription medications. Ming-Cheng was aware that he and his siblings faced criticism for being absent during their parents’ old age and illness. However, in their fifties, their careers were demanding, making it extremely challenging for them to take time off from their jobs.

Around twenty years ago, Ming-Chih was offered a position in a prestigious institute of research and development in Taiwan, when Taiwan’s government was investing in the rising industry of life science. Ming-Chih had seriously considered moving back to Taiwan with his family, but Grandpa Fu was against it. He told Ming-Chih the education in the US was better for his children.

Ming-Jen took their father’s suit to a dry cleaning service as she planned to bring it with her to Japan, wanting to keep it as a lasting memory of her father. Why did their family members end up so far apart from each other? Upon reflecting on their situation Ming-Cheng realized that his family was just one among many in Taiwan whose members had dispersed. They had spent limited time with their parents during their adult lives, and their children had little knowledge of their grandparents.

While the three siblings were asking around which columbarium they should shrine their parents’ ashes, a relative told them they should bring it to the US, “Taiwan might be at war soon. It’s safer to bring it with you.” As Ming-Cheng touched the meticulously crafted leather suitcase, a sudden realization struck him—they had never truly escaped their identity as refugees. It was Grandpa Fu’s decision that all his children should leave Taiwan as soon as they reached adulthood, recognizing the ongoing threat of war looming across the strait. Now, memories resurfaced of his father obtaining his first car through loans when they were teenagers. One thing that puzzled him was his father’s habit of keeping a full tank of gasoline, even after a short ride that barely consumed a quarter of it.

Grandpa Fu was constantly prepared for the possibility of being on the run once more. The experience of fleeing from China to Taiwan had surely left deep scars of trauma within him, and he wanted to ensure his family would be better equipped if a similar situation arose. However, on such a small island, where could they possibly escape to? Naturally, he made the decision to send his children away to places he deemed least likely to be engulfed in war.

ALthough Ming-Cheng and Ming-Chih had scholarships or tuition-free for their graduate studies in the US, it was still very challenging for his parents to support their lives in the very expensive US. THeir father worked as a middle level public employer and their mother earned some income by a home assembly for small toy manufacturers. They lived in a very cramped apartment, almost never traveled, and hardly dined out. Every penny they earned, they saved for their children’s studies overseas. During the summers they used the air-conditioner sparingly, and as the old apartment really needed remodeling, they repaired everything with their own hands. When a high-rise building was constructed next to their humble dwelling, they considered it a blessing as it provided cooler summers. When their children started working and began to have savings, they offered choices that they could buy a newer apartment or have their apartment remodeled, but Grandpa Fu told them they should invest the money into the education of their children, instead of on the living of two old people since there wouldn’t be many years left for them. Ming-Cheng assumed that it was difficult for older people to make big changes.

Even in his old age, Grandpa Fu still had the nightmares of fleeing from war. The water bottle, the dried food, and the fine suit he packed in his suitcase were for a dignified escape. But where could he run to? Ming-Cheng looked around the place their parents spent five or six decades of their lives, thinking almost nothing but to provide their children and grandchildren safety and peace. He recalled the inquiries he received from colleagues and neighbors in Chicago, questioning the safety of traveling to Taiwan due to escalating tensions across the strait. It dawned on him that, throughout their lives, they had never truly shed their refugee identity.

It must be tough to be on the run all his father’s life, Ming-Cheng thought. When could they stop fleeing? Ming-Cheng seriously considered the idea that perhaps he and his brother and sister should maintain this apartment, and when he retired he could move back; if war did not happen.