A conversation with my dementia-stricken grandmother

Every time I go back to Korea, I feel a profound sense of guilt—rooted in an ever-growing sense of disconnect to my lineage. I just spent the better part of the last two weeks there, and it was no exception to the rule. This time around, the peak of this guilt manifested itself towards the end of my stay. My paternal grandmother and I spoke privately for a few hours, and I realized how little I knew about her. I was born in Seoul but reared in the countryside by my maternal grandparents, so I didn’t see her much, at least in the part of my early childhood that I spent in the country. When my parents decided to move us to America, they did so partly to avoid the in-fighting over her wealth. My dad refused to fight his own family over money, so I grew up at a distance, both literally and metaphorically. Even when my parents sent me back every summer to study the Korean language, I did so in the hinterland. Two years ago, she was diagnosed with early-stage dementia. In light of the clock

Every time I go back to Korea, I feel a profound sense of guilt—rooted in an ever-growing sense of disconnect to my lineage. I just spent the better part of the last two weeks there, and it was no exception to the rule. This time around, the peak of this guilt manifested itself towards the end of my stay. My paternal grandmother and I spoke privately for a few hours, and I realized how little I knew about her. I was born in Seoul but reared in the countryside by my maternal grandparents, so I didn’t see her much, at least in the part of my early childhood that I spent in the country. When my p