Qingming: I Remember My Grandfather

He taught me that taking care of yourself doesn't have to be complicated. It just takes a little attention, a little patience, and a quiet heart.

Qingming — a traditional Chinese festival when we honor those who have passed. We visit their resting places, light incense and candles, and let the rising smoke carry our thoughts to them.

Today, I'm going to the Taoist temple. I'll bring candles, incense, and fresh flowers. Taoist music will play softly in the background. The smoke will rise, as it always does. And I'll sit there, thinking of my grandfather.

He passed away three years ago. I wasn't by his side when he left. That is one of the deepest regrets of my life. But today, I'm going to see him — not to make up for what was lost, but to say thank you. For everything he gave me.

The Person I Admired Most

My grandfather was the principal of a rural middle school. His students deeply respected him. He was kind, warm, and endlessly curious. He had a booming voice you could hear from anywhere. He loved to sleep, loved to wander through the village, and loved sitting in the sun with old friends, talking about nothing in particular.

But what I admired most was his passion for traditional Chinese medicine.

He wasn't a trained doctor — he was an educator. But in his spare time, he would sit on the sofa with his reading glasses on, working through thick medical texts, filling notebooks with his own observations. He loved learning — not for recognition or reward, but simply because learning brought him joy.

He used what he learned to help others.

I remember people coming from far away to our home — sometimes with chronic pain, sometimes with conditions others had given up on. My grandfather would listen carefully, then bring out his tools: acupuncture needles, herbal formulas, and the gua sha board he always kept close — a smooth piece of buffalo horn.

He never promised miracles. He simply worked quietly, patiently, doing his best. Many of those people came back — not sick anymore, but full of gratitude. Some had tears in their eyes when they thanked him. I didn't fully understand it as a child. But I understood that my grandfather made them feel better. And that made him happy.

A Different Kind of Inheritance

For his time and place, my grandfather was remarkably open-minded. When he decided to compile our family genealogy, he included my name — even though I was a girl. In our family, that was rare. But he did it anyway. I think he was proud of me. I think he saw something in me that I hadn't yet fully seen in myself.

He taught me that knowledge can be a hobby, a hobby can become a calling, and a calling can become a way of helping others.

That is what I try to do with Miss Maya.

Every gua sha tool I sell, I've tested myself. Every course I've designed, I've practiced myself. I'm not a doctor, and I'm not a master of ancient wisdom. I'm just a granddaughter who watched her grandfather care for people — and decided to help others in her own way, with what she has.

What He Left Me

My grandfather taught me that taking care of yourself doesn't have to be complicated. It doesn't require expensive tools or years of study. It just takes a little attention, a little patience, and a quiet heart.

He also taught me that helping others isn't about showing off — it's about showing up. Listening carefully. Doing what you can, with what you have.

I miss him every day. But today, on Qingming, I miss him a little more.

I'll light the incense and let the smoke rise. I'll sit quietly in the temple and think of the man who taught me that the body knows how to settle — sometimes, it just needs a little help.

Thank you, Grandpa.

With love,
Maya