Most families I know express love through words, but mine is different. Like an untold tradition, my family shows love through kind deeds — gifts, favors, and doing someone else’s chores are all examples of how we express our love to each other. Growing up, I never knew what it felt like to hear an “I love you” from my family members. It felt strange, awkward even, to verbally love someone. It wasn’t until my grandpa grew increasingly ill that I longed to say “I love you” to him. However, with his poor condition, I knew that saying something as simple as “I love you” would make him contemplate if I was hiding something from him. Besides, his worries were about death, and anything out of the ordinary would only worry him further.

In the distance, Grandpa makes another heart-wrenching phone call to a long-lost friend or relative. Grandpa is the type of person to brush his struggles off. He always told me to lift my head high in times of struggle and to smile. Smile. He always told me to smile and grin my brightest. Lately, Grandpa has been making countless phone calls to everyone he knows. At the end of each phone call, he says, “Talk to you later! Have a good day!” In reality, I know he means to say “I love you,” but those three words come off awkwardly to him. I have a feeling that Grandpa senses death coming, but he does not want to worry anyone. After all, he felt an immense burden putting all of his responsibilities onto me, as I am his only close relative available to tend and take care of him.

Thus, following my family’s untold tradition, I decided to express my love to Grandpa through action — by preparing his favorite meal, chicken noodle soup. I thinly dice each carrot, celery, onion, and scallion with precision and ease. I try to cook it to the best of my ability, reminiscent of my late grandma’s recipe since Grandpa has been seriously craving her soup. This is how I show Grandpa my love and appreciation.

“The food is ready!” I announce.

“I can smell it from here!” Grandpa says.

I scoop the soup out into the prettiest porcelain bowl I can find. Grandpa sits upright on his bed as I set up his tray. I place the bowl, a spoon, and napkins. Then, I take a seat on the chair beside him.

“Thank you, Sean,” Grandpa murmurs.

“Of course, Grandpa, I know it’s your favorite.”

He takes a bite of the chicken noodle soup.

“How is it?” I ask.

“Good... this tastes like Grandma’s! Did you do something to it?”

“I tried my best to replicate how Grandma’s soup tasted!”

“Well, you did a very good job, Sean,” Grandpa pats me on the back, “I’m proud of you.”

I lean towards Grandpa and give him the tightest hug. “I love you, Grandpa,” I finally utter.

“I love you too, Sean.”