【Grandma and Grandpa, Everyone, and Me】The Day I Applied for the 2026 Creative Awards

Prologue


My father only ever said, "Shut up." My mother rejected 90% of who I was. I didn't feel like talking, nor did I feel like listening.

We were not a close-knit family.

That is why I left home.

I got a job, built my own family, and while keeping a reasonable distance from my parents' home, I lived by utilizing them. That was the easiest way.

……But then, my father collapsed. My mother couldn't support him on her own. I had no choice but to act.

Unless my mother and I changed, we couldn't move forward.

Would this family that was never normal unravel?

Can I forgive my father and mother, forgive myself, and learn to love myself entirely?

I don't know, so I write. Once I write it, I let it go. That is what I decided.

Chapter 1: The Day of "Dad's Best Interests, Too"


My father's health suddenly deteriorated. Over the course of a month, it kept getting worse and worse.

My mother was doing her best. Perhaps, she was trying too hard.

And in the end, the contact came to me, their daughter.

I thought, reality has arrived.

Now, what should I do?

What I was thinking about at that moment was neither my father nor my mother.

It was only about myself.
I must protect my own family.
However, this is not a matter I can handle on my own.

So, I prayed for my mother's best. And I prayed for the family's best. I was trying to face it from a distance of, "The rest is up to you all."

When I told K-san about that, they said, "Dad's best interests, too, together."

That's when I realized.

It seems I didn't have the heart to pray for my father's best interests.

That was the relationship between my father and me until now.

A person who doesn't say thank you. A person who only says shut up. That's why I kept my distance. That's why I couldn't pray.

But, since I realized it, from then on, I decided to try praying for my mother's best, my father's best, and our family's best.

I ended up staying at my parents' house for four days until the day of the hospital examination.

Four days was longer than I thought. My mother was at her limit. I let my mother rest and took on the task of facing my father.

---

For four days, I had to deal with my mother's negative words. Honestly, I was too tired. To my question, "What do you want to happen?" my mother said, "I just want it decided that your father will be taken care of in the best place possible."
I wrote on a piece of paper, "It's great that it's been decided that Dad will be taken care of in the best place possible."
And I just said, "Let's pray only for this."

I don't have the capacity to hear anything more than that.

Chapter 2: The Day He Said "Thanks"


My father was a person who never said "thank you" to anyone.

For my father, whose pain suddenly intensified and whose hands stopped moving, my mother made rice porridge. My mother didn't have the capacity to match my father's pace. My father vented his irritation at my mother and piled on complaints. So, I called out, "I'll take over."

My mother left the room without saying a word.

Only my father and I were left in the room.
I helped my father as he tried to eat by himself.

After saying, "That's enough," he said in a small voice, "My bad." You didn't do anything bad. If you're going to say anything, it should be "thank you."
When I said that, my father said "Thanks" in a slightly playful way.

"You have to say it to Grandma, too."

"Yes, repeat after me. Thank you."

"Yes, yes."

To my father who was playing it off, I, the daughter, pressed him, "Have you ever said it?" "I've never heard it."

That's scary, isn't it?

---

At the hospital where he was admitted, we met a good doctor. My father's wish to "have the pain taken away" was granted.
Eventually, my father became too well to be taken care of at the hospital. He moved to the next stage, a short-stay facility. Congratulations.
Yeah, congratulations.

Chapter 3: The Day I Decided "Even So, I'll Go"

If the location of my father's short-stay was far away, I wouldn't have worried about it for the reason that "it's far."
It's not that I won't go, it's that I can't go.

But, it's 30 minutes by car. It's not far.

When that happens, the feeling of "should I go?" emerges. But this is a little different from "I want to see him."

I wonder if a normal daughter would visit about twice a week. What is the "normal" that I think of myself?

I wonder if I wanted to be a daughter who loves her father. But you know, I haven't become that kind of daughter. Isn't it you who didn't let me be that way?

Everything is already such a hassle. The anger I've felt toward my father until now, in the end, still remains here. I hate this dark side of me, you know. It's tiring.

But, I want to forgive myself already.

Do I want to be a good person? Do I want to be a good daughter? Hmm, I want to say, I'm not that bad of a person, you know. I want to think that. I want to shed the troublesome things and become lighter.

Well, aren't I kind to myself? I decided, "Ah, I'm glad I feel relieved now."

.........My head is spinning. If I go, what will we talk about?

Just--the timing spans the end of the year and New Year's. If it were me, I'd surely be a little lonely.

So, I planned to return home on January 4th and have everyone gather. I decided to contact not only our family but also my younger brother, who never shows his face. The reaction was as expected. Even so, that's fine.

I had one reason to go see him.

Chapter 4: The Day of "Congratulations"


About three or four days after my father settled into the short-stay. Thinking I'd just go check on him, I called and then headed out.

It was just after lunch, and I was guided to my father's private room.

Knock, knock.

When I entered the room calling out, "Hey," my father was, as usual, lying on the bed watching TV.

"Hey, hey, weren't you not supposed to be lying in bed during the day?"

When I said that, my father sat up with a smirk.

I had bought coffee after lunch. When I handed it to him, he drank it greedily and finished it in no time.

Once things settled down a bit, I asked.

"Hey, hey. Do you know what day it is today?"

My father thought for a moment before answering.

"Today is... the Xth of December."

It seems he still has a sense of the date.

I said, "Today is my birthday."

My father was blank for a moment. Then he made a face like "Oh...", covered his eyes with his hand, and hung his head. He wasn't crying. It was just a face that said, "Oh no."

Just as I thought. Well, I guess there's no way my father would know his daughter's birthday.

"It's okay, it's okay. I thought so."
"I'm properly celebrated by my own family."

While saying that, I knew it myself. This is a bit mean.

From the depths of my heart, that dark thing comes bubbling up. I haven't forgiven everything yet. I want to trouble him a little, hurt him. That's why I'm saying it on purpose.

But, because he made such a troubled face, I felt a little sorry for him and let that topic slide.

Then, my father said, "...Oh." He took his hand off his face and sat up properly. Even though he looked a little shy, he bowed his head extremely politely and said in an unusually formal way,

"...Congratulations."

I feel like it was the first time I was properly told "congratulations" by my father. I felt like I had received a proper gift.

I also bowed my head properly. "...Thank you very much."

Wait, I'm about to cry. The dark me peeled away and flew off.

When I looked up, my father was looking a little shy and remained silent.

Well, I'll forgive you today.

......I am alive here, after all.

Thank you for the birthday.

Chapter 5: The Day We Talked About That Bento


With one reason to go see him, I went to see my father at the short-stay.

When I told him, "On January 4th, everyone is meeting up," my father said, "I see."

"New Year's is here, huh."

There was a slightly lonely air about him.

Once the report was finished for now, there was nothing left to talk about. When I thought about what to talk about, that "bad bubbling" came out again.

"Hey, do you remember?"

My father looks at me.

"You know, there was a time when I was really angry at Grandpa."

After a short pause, I continue.

"You know, I used to make bento. That one with the black jar. The one with miso soup, rice, and side dishes."

My father said, "Oh, yeah, yeah."

"You see, because Grandma was working, I was making your night shift bento. When I was in high school."

My father is listening silently.

"But, you know, you complained a lot about the bento I made."

"Do you remember?"

When I asked that, my father put his hand to his eyes, and while hiding them, said,
"Did I say something like that?"

"Because you complained, I threw the whole bento I made into the trash right in front of you."
(A high school daughter is making you a night shift bento. It's not about the contents, don't you think the act itself is something to be grateful for?)
*This is what I wanted to say at the time, did I say it?
The voice of my dark heart. At this time, no matter what,
I hadn't said it to this extent.

"After that, I never made it again."

When I said that, my father looked down and only said, "There was a bento, huh."

You don't remember?!

I was really angry, you know.

I only have a handful of memories with my father, but I remember this one very well.

In the past, no matter what I said, it didn't get through. I didn't feel like talking, nor did I feel like listening.
So, I am talking about the things I couldn't say now.
My father is listening.
He is listening while hiding his eyes.

When I saw that figure, the dark me peeled away another layer.

This person in front of me, without even saying shut up, just by making a playful pose,

......Somehow, my strength left me.

Even though I was so angry and had been holding onto it for so long, I'm the one who looks a bit foolish.

Well, I'll forgive you today, too.

Chapter 6: The Day My Mother Changed


My mother said to me,

"Before, I rejected 90% of you."

What kind of mother says that to her daughter? There must be a better way to say it. Words that would normally surely hurt.

But at that time--before anger, I thought,

She's a very honest person, isn't she?

Looking back, I was clumsy, and no matter what I did, I was a child who couldn't do things well. If I washed the dishes, I would break them, and from my mother's perspective, I think I was an existence where "it's faster if I do it myself."

My mother was always condescending, called me by my first name without honorifics, and thought she had to teach me something. A person who could do anything, was much better than me, took on the father's role alone in the family, and did it desperately. I guess she was a person who raised children under such tension. And a person who took on the care of her grandchildren while her daughter was working.

The trigger for my mother's change happened on my side.

I decided to quit the job I had been doing for about 30 years. I made sure my mother wouldn't notice the reason for that or the events leading up to it. Because my mother is much more sensitive than me. If she knew, she would surely fall apart. That was a choice to protect myself.

But recently, finally--I was able to tell her everything, that I quit my job and the reason why.

My mother, who heard my story, said, "You're a strong child," and shed tears. "I couldn't do it. You're a strong child."

What came out after that was those words.

"Before, I rejected 90% of you."

I think it was a confession of the past and words to change the future. Since then, my mother started calling me with "-san" and started saying words like "I'm sorry" and "thank you."

The time I was rejected surely won't disappear. Even so, I feel like we are standing in the same place and talking now.


——That mother reached her limit.

The day I left my parents' house after the four-day stay. My mother said, "I'm sorry. You helped me." I replied, "Yes, yes, it's okay."

My mother has gotten old. That's what happened.

I am more unsettled than my mother who has changed.

But, well. Won't I get used to it eventually?

When I left my parents' house, my mother gave me side dishes for dinner and said, "Tell H-san and everyone, thank you."

"Yes, yes, thank you," I said. I returned home while saying to my mother, "Well, sleep well."


——But that wasn't the end.

The procedures and paperwork for my father increased all at once, and I ended up listening to the care manager's story with my mother.

While receiving the explanation, my mother looked restless and tried to leave her seat. For some reason, I hated that.

Do you want to leave everything to me? I know you're at your limit. I know you're tired. But I want to remain in the position of "helping" to the end.

I unintentionally stopped my mother and said in a strong tone, "Listen properly." My mother looked at me, startled. The care manager also turned their gaze to my mother and started the explanation again.

You can still do it. If you don't do it, I'll be in trouble.

Chapter 7: "January 4th"


January 4th. It's the day my father comes home.
I'm supposed to pick him up at the short-stay facility at 10:00 AM.

I cleaned out the car so that my father and his walker (coro-coro) could fit. I moved the luggage in the back seat and was ready.
I told my family, "Everyone gather at Grandma's house around noon," and left the house.

When I arrived at the short-stay facility, my father was waiting near the entrance with his walker. He was all ready.
I had the staff member unlock the door, and as they saw us off with "Have a safe trip," we went outside.

I moved the walker close to the car and watched as my father moved his body while holding onto the headrest bar of the car by himself.
He is able to move a little more smoothly than when he came back from the hospital. That is something to be grateful for.

I loaded the walker into the back of the car and departed.

In the car that started moving, my father started talking out of the blue.
"Today, everyone is coming, right?"
"That's right. Both our house and my younger brother's house, everyone is coming."

Then my father said,
"That's right, I have to give a greeting."


......Excuse me? A greeting?

Honestly, I have zero image of my father as a person giving a greeting or putting his feelings into words. Since I was a child, I thought he was a person who didn't speak in front of others, or rather, couldn't speak.
That's why I reasoned to myself that he replied to everything with "Shut up."
Otherwise, I couldn't understand the situation where we couldn't have a normal family conversation.
Actually, like the older sister and uncle in the neighborhood, I think I wanted to have a conversation with my father, too.

Come to think of it, the greeting at the wedding... I have no memory of it.



That father, over 80 years old, is saying on his own,
"I have to give a greeting."

I'm surprised.While I was thinking that, he started practicing in the car.

"Thank you everyone for gathering for me today."

......No, no, it's interesting from the start.

Today's gathering was a plan to check the situation on the day my father returns home temporarily and for everyone to gather for the New Year. "For me," if you ask me, it was also for our side, but well, thinking, is that so in the end? I listened silently.
I wonder if he thought about it at the short-stay facility.

He is speaking much more smoothly than I thought.
While driving and listening, I almost cried a little.

Ah, I thought, this person was someone who thinks properly.

If so, I wish he had shown it sooner.
Has the space for me to speak between my mother and me disappeared? Did he give up on talking?

Is this a tear from the content of the speech,

or is it a tear of complicated emotions?
Probably both.
......I'm driving. Any more is dangerous.

While wiping my tears, I said.

Because it was so good, I said.
"I got it, then I'll introduce you. Speak properly in front of everyone."

My father nodded.

My father was looking forward to this day, too.
---

Before going home, I decided to buy my father indoor shoes. For my father who comes home from the short-stay facility with a walker (coro-coro), non-slip shoes are essential. It's scary if he walks only in socks and slips. I went to a nearby shopping center. Because I wouldn't know unless I let my father try them on.

I parked the car in the shopping center parking lot and took out the walker. For my father, it's the outside world for the first time in a while. I was a little worried about how much he could walk, but there were no steps, and he was walking more smoothly than I thought.

When we went to the shoe department, there was a round chair, so I had my father sit down and looked for shoes that fit his feet.

My father is very particular. The back of the shoe has horizontal waves, and he says, "This won't slip." His particularity is on par with mine. My father's foot size is 25 to 26. When I was trying on two or three pairs of shoes that were easy to wear and had good grip, a stranger who happened to pass by said,

"My, shopping with parent and child, that's nice."

At a glance, we look like parent and child. I was a little shocked. I don't have a memory of going shopping with my father. I have a memory of the whole family eating ramen, but I really don't have a memory of going shopping with just my father. So when I thought this was our first shopping trip together, I get told something like that.

Where and how do I look like my father? Do we look alike, or do we look like we are shopping happily? Somehow, truly, surprising things happen in life. Well, but it's not a bad thing. It's probably a good thing, but I'm not used to it. It's a ticklish feeling.

Now, the shoes my father is satisfied with are decided. Let's load my father and the walker and go home to where my mother is waiting. It's my mother. She's probably pacing back and forth at the entrance because we are late.


---


We arrived at my parents' house. For my father, it's his home for the first time in about two months.

When we got out of the car, seeing my father walking with the walker, S-san came running over. "Welcome back, I'm glad, I'm glad," they rejoiced as if it were their own matter.

My father, who usually only mumbles, answered with a slightly formal face, but happily, "Thank you." It's a huge difference from the father of before.

My mother came out to the entrance and opened the door wide. "Welcome back." My father said, "I'm home," in a mumble.

This is the inward-facing face.

The slope of the ramp was steeper than I thought, and it seemed difficult for my father. He enters the house from the flat gravel area on the side.

"I can't sit on the kotatsu," for my father who was worried, what I had prepared was a high-class chair. It's something my mother bought for my father before, but at that time, it was an item he complained about grandly, "If I sit on something like this, my lower back will hurt, I don't need it." This time, I tested the comfort, inserted a hard mat into the lower back, and improved it into a special version.

My father, who had returned home rolling along, sat in that special chair and looked around slowly, as if feeling relieved.

Because my father said something silly like, "I wonder if this was here before," my mother couldn't help but want to say a word.
"You, even though you were complaining so much about it."
Well, that's fine. The way he sits, he looks just like some kind of king or boss.

---

While we were doing that, the family gathered.

My family arrived. Ding-dong. And then my younger brother's family gathered too. For the first time in a while, the whole family is gathered in this house. How long has it been? It's been over 10 years. Back when the children were still small.

In the living room, I arranged the dining tables just as my mother had simulated, and the preparations were complete with the sushi we had ordered, the Suzuhiro kamaboko and datemaki that my husband's parents had given us as a souvenir, the hors d'oeuvres my mother had plated with roast pork, the fried chicken and salad from a delicious nearby Chinese restaurant, and drinks.

My father, mother, husband, and younger brother sat at the dining table, while my brother's wife, my daughter, and the grandchildren gathered at the kotatsu.

Now, it's my turn. I'll be the moderator.

"Okay, everyone, it's been a long time. First, Grandpa says he has a greeting, so please listen. Grandpa, please go ahead."

My father, while a bit more fidgety than when he was practicing in the car, let out a breath and began to speak slowly.

"Today, everyone, thank you for gathering for my sake.
I... my body started hurting... and I caused everyone... worry.
Now it doesn't hurt, and I've become... able to move quite a bit.

Thank you very much.

......Everyone, please... take care of your own... bodies as well."

It was a truly wonderful speech. He himself was tearing up at times. My mother, listening next to him, was also tearing up. I had teared up when I heard it during practice, and I teared up during the actual performance too. It was the best greeting.
Everyone applauded.

After the greeting, I said, "Now everyone, we're going to take a photo." My brother said, "What's with that photo," and my child said, "Ugh," but I thought it would be good to keep a photo to commemorate such a wonderful speech and the family gathering for the first time in a while.

There were two people with complaining faces, but I took the photo regardless. After that, I swapped with my brother who said, "I'll take it," and I joined in too. After that, we all ate the feast.

"Grandpa is good at putting on a front, so he's managing somehow at the short-stay facility too," I told my brother's wife while eating sushi. My nephew, who was listening to that, burst out laughing, pointed at my brother, and said,

"Same."

It seems my brother is also better at putting on a front. Parents and children really are alike.


There is a postscript to this story.

My mother apparently thought that I had made my father give that speech. "I didn't think he could speak that well, even if it was a speech you made him give."

For the sake of my father's honor, I told my mother that the speech was my father's own voluntary offer. No matter how many times I told her, she kept muttering, "I can't believe it. I can't believe it. It was a good story," she said.

Looking back, this speech was the trigger. I feel like I started writing on note because I thought it would be a waste to forget such an interesting story. I finally managed to record it this far.

To be continued.

Epilogue


I am not providing nursing care. I am in the role of following up on my mother who is providing care, and conveying my mother's intentions to my father. I am grateful for the situation where I can use my father as material. And I pray that this situation continues.

Until now, I have protected my heart by keeping a distance from my father and mother. Like standing in a place where the rain doesn't hit, wearing a raincoat firmly, and holding an umbrella so as not to get caught in the storm.

But now, I have an emergency bell in my other hand.
I have come to receive the side dishes my mother gives me, not as a matter of course, but saying "Thank you."
I have become able to say, "It was delicious."
It is because I realized that I myself was also quite a dangerous person.

Perhaps I haven't forgiven my parents for everything. I don't think I have to hurry to forgive them either. I decided to let go of thinking about it that way.

The dark me is also me. I think it will come out more from now on. But, I have decided to be kind to that me as well.

I will also support the me in the middle.

It is still continuing.

Today, too, is a day for Grandpa, Grandma, everyone, and me.

The 2026 Creative Awards entry ends here.
The anpan with the ruled lines is Grandpa's favorite.
I have summarized the articles so far.
Click here for the stories of Grandpa and Grandma so far
👇
Click here for the series

"You can read this series from the middle too"

Love❤️ and gratitude
Misuz.