by Greg Yu, 2023
The only physical memory I have of my late grandfather is his two watches, passed down to me after his passing: a Rolex Oysterdate and a Casio Dual Time.
As a watch enthusiast, I’ve always gravitated toward pieces I could choose and buy for myself. The ones gifted to me? I rarely ever wore them.
So much so that the battery on the Casio died a long time ago. A very long time ago.
I never bothered to have it replaced. It was a simple fix, but I couldn’t be bothered. So it sat there, untouched, fading with time.
The Rolex was a different story. Every watch enthusiast dreams of owning a Rolex, and when I first received it, I wore it often. But as a result, it picked up its fair share of scuffs and scratches. Eventually, it met the same fate as the Casio—tucked away in a box, waiting to be worn again, reserved for a special day: my wedding.
But the thing about watches is that they give life to memories. Not just memories of those who have passed, but memories of moments—times of happiness, sadness, success, or struggle.
Some people might choose to keep a locket, a framed photo, or another keepsake. But for me, and for many others, watches hold deep significance. They mark milestones. They preserve memories.
It doesn’t matter whether it’s a Rolex worth thousands of dollars or a Casio that costs next to nothing. What matters is what the watch represents—the emotions it carries, the stories it tells, and how it comes alive when worn.
But I digress.
After years of neglect, I finally changed the battery on that old Casio. It’s beat up. Some of the links are rusted. But this was my grandfather’s everyday watch—the one he wore up until he was confined in the hospital. I never got the chance to say goodbye or thank him for loving me. But at least, in a small way, he remains with me every day.
And yes, the Rolex will be on my wrist on my wedding day.