The Stoic Immigrants, Continued

“My grandfather died of cancer and he never once complained of it. He went through chemo a few times. It must have been awful, but he never said a word to anyone. I remember it was his last Christmas—and he had to know it was his last Christmas with his family, he was so sick—and he just sat there and looked at us. He must have known it was the last time he’d see these people, but he just sat there and enjoyed being with us and never said a word. He NEVER, ever complained.”

“Dad, I don’t know that never, ever complaining is healthy, either.”

“Well, I’m sure he must have told his wife the troubles he was having, but he never told anyone else.”