“Oh, He’s Gone…”
“Mom! Where did my favorite blue and pink jacket go?”
“Oh, it’s gone,” my mom replied trying to sound as casual as possible, making us both laugh.
In my family, we have a famous saying when something goes missing. You have to say, “Oh, it’s gone,” in a naïve and innocent voice. It all started when my Gunggung (Chinese for Grandfather) brought home a dog for my mom’s family. It was 1968, so my mom was very young and had always dreamed of owning her very own puppy. Their cool Manoa home was the perfect place for their new puppy to grow up. He had lots of room to play in lush, green, spacious backyard. The tall hibiscus bushes and thriving red ginger bushes were great for hiding in and if it was hot, there was an enormous mango tree to lounge under. My mom, her sister, Joanne, and brother, Tom, were ecstatic about have such an awesome pet and named him Chippie. Chippie was what people would call a “poi dog” and had a knack for getting in to trouble.
Something that you should know about my gunggung is that he is not an animal lover. Maybe it’s because he grew up in a third world country, but it is quite evident that he is not the kind of person to get all lovey-dovey about a pet; he actually celebrated the death of my Popo, Grandmother’s, beloved rabbit, Bunny Bunny. He doesn't understand how people can spend so much money and waste so much food on a lowly animal. To him, animals were a source of food. A rascal dog and what you might call an animal hater are not the best of combinations. Gunggung’s patience wore thin as Chippie chewed on almost everything he could sink his teeth into. In addition to this destructive habit, Chippie refused to eat dog food; he had to have human food. Popo would have to make chili and rice or some kind of food that met Chippie’s standards even when the family was eating out. This really upset Gunggung to see precious food being wasted on a dog.
One day, my mom, her sister, and her brother returned home from school to find that Chippie was not there to greet them. “Where’s Chippie,” they asked my popo.
She didn't want to point fingers and say “Your father took away the family dog,” so she tried to answer in a calm, casual voice, “Oh, he’s gone…”
“Where’d he go?”
Unable to find the words to explain what had happened to their dear dog, she again replied, “Oh, he’s gone…”
As it could be expected, my mom and her siblings were confused that Gunggung had given away such an important member of their family. It turned out that Gunggung could no longer tolerate Chippie’s habit of gnawing on things after he chewed up the corner of the house. Fed up, he gave him away to a man that picked Chippie up while his children were away at school.
Popo, a stay at home mom, watched Chippie being loaded into the back of his new owner’s truck. He seemed to know that he was going away for good and Popo cried when she saw him leaving. Popo, who adores animals, never told her children how sad she was when she saw Chippie being taken away. I’m sure that if she had told her children that she had cried as she when Chippie left, my mom, her sister, and her brother would have been angry at Gunggung for giving away Chippie because it made everybody but him miserable. By keeping this secret for many years, Popo kept peace in her household. Popo taught her children not to dwell on unhappy and disappointing things with a simple “oh, he’s gone…” She showed then that it’s alright to be sad, but they have to go on with life because some things cannot be reversed and being miserable or bitter will just take away from the good things in life.
To this day, my mom still remembers the “I’m trapped in a corner” voice Popo had used. Popo didn’t know how to explain what had happened, so she just used the plainest, simplest phrase to tell them. Now, whenever someone is looking for something and askes Mom where it is she answers in that same clueless voice that Popo used, “Oh, it’s gone…” It always makes us laugh, not because we’re making fun of Popo, but because we see how it reflects her gentleness and tact in difficult situations.
