He seemed smaller than I remembered. He used to be an imposing man, tall with a serious face that seemed like it never smiled, but now he was old with white hair and that face creased with wrinkles. I was finding it hard to believe that over a decade ago, I was sitting in front of him and utterly intimidated by him. He looked like one gust of wind would blow him over. 

He seemed surprised to see me. I never sent a notice ahead that I was coming. He and Grandma never expected RSVPs. Attendance was just expected. I had missed so many that I guessed I was a surprise in and of myself, and maybe seeing my fiance there was a surprise as well. We said our greetings and gave him our cards. I never mailed him anything anymore. He took them with more gratitude than I was expecting and let us inside, and I swore that he was almost smiling. 

We stepped in and removed our shoes, and I whispered to my fiance that we'd stay for dinner, chat, and then leave as soon as we were done as we slipped some slippers on. The entryway was beautifully decorated, just like I remembered it as a child. There were beautiful bamboo decorations that I knew my grandfather had made by hand. I remembered seeing them as a child and being in awe of them, and he had made one for each of us when we were born. I never took mine out of the box most of the time now.

He quickly shuffled ahead of us, asking for us to come and sit. He had a whole table made up in one of the side rooms laid out for everyone in the family, yet to my surprise, we were the only ones there.

He insisted that there would be others and told us to sit. He was smiling, a rare thing even from my childhood that he reserved seemingly only for my grandmother. He sat down with us and asked us how we had been, and we answered every question he peppered us with as politely as we could. He seemed to forget that several years ago he had reduced me to a screaming, crying mess and never batted an eye.

Time ticked by with vapid small talk and as the day got darker, he would disappear into the kitchen from time to time and start bringing out food. I recognized recipes that my grandmother used to make, and the smells dragged me back to old Shogatsu dinners with me sitting beside her and my grandfather as they told old stories about when they first got married. He made a point to point out these little confectionaries. They were my favorite, he recalled, and encouraged me to have a few. The others would be there soon. However, I could see the realization setting in.

We were the only ones coming.

That was when my fiance turned the topic to my grandmother. He asked about the little sweets, and my grandfather's eyes lit up at the same time as mine, and the next thing we knew, the conversation had turned to somewhere new.