Time really does fly.
31,556,926 seconds.
525,949 minutes.
8,766 hours.
365 days.
52 weeks.
12 months.
1 year.
It has been one year since my uncle, Linh Ngoc Nguyen (St. Francisco Xavier), passed away.
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In the entry prior to the one about my uncle's passing, I had written about all the deadlines, stress, and all this other academic junk I had to deal with. And I thought that was bad right?
Things took a turn for the worse of all things when my uncle passed away on October 26 at 1:30 P.M. He was 39 in American birth records, but according to his Vietnamese birth records, he was 40. He was to turn 41 in late November.
This entry is dedicated to him.
Days had come and gone, many tears had been shed, all focus lost at one time or another. I remember everything too well. Every day my mom cried; every day our family cried. It was tough for all of us. From that day forward, we were all struggling through our lives, coping with such a loss that was completely uncalled. For me, I was taking it just as hard as everyone else, topping it off with the stress of school, clubs/organizations, and, of course, college applications.
My uncle, like all other uncles from my mom’s side, had been a part of my life since the day I was born. Out of nine siblings, my mom was the eldest, followed by five consecutive brothers: Hoan, Toan, Vinh, Minh, and Linh. My auntie Hanh came next, then my uncle Quynh, and last but certainly not least, my auntie Quyen. And I love all of them like no other.
My mom always tells stories about one uncle or aunt to the next. They had been separated somehow or another (though most were already over here in NorCal) since the fall of Vietnam, until the summer of 2007. That was when everyone got together for Uncle Quynh’s wedding; it was undoubtedly one of the best summers of my life to date. I remember my mom shedding tears at the sight of Uncle Toan when she first saw him on the day of the wedding; it had been twenty years.
Back to the main point though, Uncle Linh was the one uncle who would call my mom every other day or so, checking up on how she was doing and always telling her not to worry about anything since he knows it stresses her out. He was caring, fatherly, and took on many responsibilities. Every year he and his family of his wife and two young daughters would come down to visit us, often taking us out for a good time. I loved spending times with them.
My last memory with him was in the summer of 2008, when my mom, sister, and I spent an entire week up with my uncles, aunts, and cousins. My mom stayed with my grandmother at Uncle Minh’s house, while my sister and I were under the care of Uncle Linh and Auntie Quynh (his wife~). I had never been so blissful that summer. And, as it has always been ever since I was little, I cried like a little baby when I had to leave all my relatives to head back down to SoCal. I never got out of that habit, even now.
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I remember my sister's phone call that Sunday. I was out doing community service for Key Club when she called me, sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn't decipher her words clearly; all I could understand was that something happened to my uncle as he was riding his bike. Diane and Lydia assured me with me a sense of hope that he was okay, that it was likely an accident that may have landed him in the hospital, but nothing terribly serious. That thought lingered in my mind as I waited another 1.5 hours before we left.
I arrived home around five or six that late afternoon, after singing in the car the entire way home from where the community service event took place. Upon entering the house, I went to my fridge, grabbed two cups of diced peaches, and rushed upstairs to find out the news. I entered my parents’ bedroom, and there was my mom on the bed. I asked what was wrong; she cried out,
“Your uncle’s gone, your uncle’s gone.”
I screamed. So loud, I felt the whole world could hear me.
In that instant, I fell to my knees at the bed. I didn’t know what to do other than drop everything, breakdown and cry. I remember asking out loud repeatedly, “Why did he have to go? Why? What did he ever do?”
My aunt and uncle from my dad’s side (Stela’s parents) came over shortly after I came home, trying to comfort both my mother and me as we cried profusely at the bed. I left the bedroom to go to my own room, where I continued to my breakdown. Diving into my bed, my mind was flooded with memories of my uncle, from when I was a kid to my very last memory of him prior to this incident. What shot an arrow through my heart was the fact that he left behind his wife, Auntie Quynh, and two young daughters, Caitlin and Kristen. Both were still under the age of ten. I screamed into my pillow and rolled around in bed, crying profusely.
After some time, I got out of bed to attempt to start on homework. I struggled trying to get anything done. Freaking Perrine’s. Who knows how many tears stained that textbook... I remember telling Diane and Lydia upon returning to my room onto my computer. They comforted me the best they could, as I continued crying at my desk in front of my computer. I cannot thank them enough for doing all they could for me that evening.
Going to school on Monday was what pained me the most. Wearing all black that day, I came onto campus to “the table” looking miserable. My eyes were poofy and red all means, from what some friends told me, and still, I cried at random points of the day. I told various people that day about my uncle’s passing, with numerous people comforting me and sending their condolences. I couldn’t find the will to keep a smile on all day despite any jokes that flew around. I appreciated the support and consolation of everyone.
A distinct memory from that day was when I was walking down the hallway in the A-building after my last class, AP English Literature. I encountered Mrs. Verhaegen, my favorite teacher of all time who I’ve known for five years, coming in the opposite direction. I cried out to her (as I always tend to do), “I’m sooooo depressed and sad and brokennnnnn~” as I walked to her with arms outstretched, waiting for a hug. She thought I was being swamped with work and whatnot (since it’s what I always do), but when I told her that my uncle had passed away, she hugged me even tighter. She’s like a second mother to me. I broke out into tears once more.
I came home later that day and went straight to my room for a needed nap. Upon waking up after two hours, a trembling voice came from the other room, and I went over to see what was up. My mom was talking on the phone with my grandmother about how things were up in NorCal and what plans were being made. Everyone was making arrangements for the funeral and such. Auntie Quynh and her two daughters were taking it rough. They were far too young to go through this. My aunt told the older one, Caitlin, that their father had fallen off his bike and was in the hospital. She broke out into tears and Caitlin cried with her mother. It woke little Kristen up, and she came out to the family room and cried with her mother and sister as well. When my mom told me that, we both broke out into tears, with my sister joining us later.
I also found out more heart-wrenching details of what exactly happened. The night prior to his death, my uncle was at a family get-together on his wife’s side. He had been displaying signs of exhaustion and acted pretty tired for the entire night. The next day, his wife’s older brother Tuan asked if my uncle wanted to go for a bike ride for a while, hoping that he’ll get over the exhaustion from the previous night. They ended up going for three hours, up and down hills and whatnot. Resting temporarily, Uncle Linh mentioned that his head was starting to hurt. Tuan assured him that they only had a short way off from finishing, and that they could do it. Upon starting to bike again, minutes later, my uncle fell off his bike, onto the ground. Tuan stopped immediately to see what was wrong. People on the road stopped their cars and dialed the police and ambulance. Checking his pulse, Tuan was unable to comprehend what had just happened. My uncle had died right on the spot, especially with the impact of his fall.
It turned out the reason behind his death was a heart attack, being pushed to the limits as such.
Tuan was a heart doctor.
I cannot imagine the weight he has on his shoulders.
For the rest of the week, I came to school wearing black in memory of my uncle. I received more condolences from people, including those from my church’s Youth Ministry and Bible Studies, classmates from school, and other teachers and staff who knew me. My mom and sister were to leave Thursday morning for NorCal. With some persuasion, I was to skip school on Friday to head up to NorCal with my dad. More tears were shed every day; not a day passed without the thought of my uncle lingering in my heart and mind.
The week went by too slow for my liking, but before I knew it, I was on the road for NorCal with my dad on Friday, which was coincidentally Halloween. I was texting Andrew almost throughout the ride up; he provided me with comfort and reassurance, and of course, how the school day was playing out. After roughly five to six hours on the road, my dad and I finally arrived in the area of the funeral home. I had to go into a restaurant to change into my black slacks and top before we came.
Upon parking the car, I encountered my other uncles, aunts, and numerous other relatives and close friends. I greeted them all alike, and Uncle Vinh and his wife (Auntie Uyen) led my dad and I into the funeral home to the viewing. As I made my way to the viewing, I saw my little cousins running around, and my older relatives talking privately here and there. I felt my chest tighten as I walked closer and closer to the chapel main room.
There it was. Everything was almost a complete blur to me at this point. My dad walked forward before me. I followed slowly after, as I recognized many of my relatives, including Auntie Quynh, my grandparents, and my own mother, all of whom were silent or crying. The room was filled with elaborate flower arrangements from people everywhere, all of which surrounding the casket in the front center of the room. Walking down the aisle, I felt tears pool up in my eyes. I starting sobbing by the time I reached the front. I took several more steps and stood in front of the casket, tears running down my face as I looked into the face of my deceased uncle.
My mother came up from behind me to put a white piece of cloth (tang) around my head as I stood there sobbing. I couldn’t believe that he was gone. One side of his face had been bruised from the fall; I think the make-up helped cover it significantly. Beside the other side of his face were letters, drawings, envelopes, and one of his favorite caps I used to see him wear. I wiped the tears away from my face with the sleeve of my top, as my mom led me to the pews to sit with her. My grandparents, Uncle Linh’s parents, stood beside us, crying over the death of their son who left the world far too early.
My sister and my numerous other cousins, Caitlin and Kristen included, ran over to me after finding out I had arrived. The two sisters almost didn’t recognize me until they looked straight into my face. I remember Kristen uttering, “Chị Trang~? Yay Chị Trang!” as she and Caitlin gave me a big hug. They ran off right afterwards, to go with Auntie Uyen, who was going to take them out to trick-or-treat in a neighborhood by their home. It was so painful seeing them run off as such. Soon after, my relatives from Pennsylvania arrived, including Uncle Dan and Uncle Kevin. Who would’ve thought that we’d meet again so soon, when the last time we had all gotten together, it was for Uncle Quynh’s wedding.
In between all the tears and tissues, this was more or less a time of reunion, especially when many of us were sitting around eating whatever food there was in the room next to the chapel main room. Uncle Vinh cracked some jokes that caused much muffled laughter, while other relatives noted the differences they saw in me since the last time I was around. It was bittersweet. The night went on with such moments, both happy and sad. Nonetheless, we all had an arrow shot through our hearts. This was particularly seen through the faces of everyone, when it came time to the final prayer session and viewing for the night.
We all left the funeral home later that evening, with many of us heading to Uncle Minh’s house. My family and I went to Uncle Linh’s house instead, where I was greeted by Caitlin and Kristen with their bags full of candy. I found that the living room had been turned into a sacred room of the house, with letters, messages, and a small shrine set up for my uncle. I also finally met up with Auntie Quynh as well, exchanging hugs and talking briefly before heading off. I stumbled upon Auntie Hanh as well, who had been in North Carolina for the last several months. After arriving in NorCal for the last couple days, she told my mom and I that she’d hear footsteps or knocks on her door, thinking it were Uncle Linh. After all, he had that tendency to play tricks and mess around with her. We couldn’t help but laugh, really.
After a rough night of very little sleep, the entire house was up and about by seven/eight for the mass and funeral. The weather outside was gloomy and gray; it looked like it was going to rain. I was dressed in all black once again, with a black blouse and sweater underneath a coat, along with dress pants and boots. We went straight to the funeral once more to get ready. We spent some time praying and crying, of course. Soon after, the mortuary people came to set up the casket, while some of my relatives and such received their white glove, showing that they were the pallbearers who were carry the body. It came to the very last moments before the casket was to be closed. Tuan and Uncle Quynh were the ones right at the body as the lid came to a close. We all stood within range as we watched them close the casket. My grandmother, my mom, and I were holding each other, sobbing as the casket was forever closed. I swear the three of us cried an ocean over that week.
We all went straight to the funeral mass right after, which was held at a church close to Uncle Linh’s home. Seeing all my relatives with the white cloths wrapped around their head and their somber faces pained me, especially at the sight of my many little cousins. The mass carried on as such; I found myself lost in thought throughout the time. Clenching my black bandanna that I had received from LDC’08, I wiped my tears as Uncle Quynh read aloud his eulogy. The whole room seemed to tremble at his words as he started to shake and lose his words at the podium. Being the youngest of the brothers, Uncle Quynh looked up to Uncle Linh, who came before him.
After the mass ended, we headed straight to our cars to go to the cemetery. I also encountered my godfamily, who managed to make it to this mass after an hour drive. They all gave me a great hug as I cried on their shoulders. As the car carrying the casket led the way, I noticed that there were probably more than fifty cars following it with the funeral sticker on their windows. The ride took about twenty minutes or so before we reached our designated location at the cemetery. By this time, it was already lightly raining; many of us walked under huge umbrellas as we made our way over to the large tent by the open grave.
We all gathered under the tent as the eight pallbearers carried the casket across the wet grass. Those who carried him were: person from mortuary, Uncle Kevin, Uncle Dan, Tuan, Uncle Quynh, Uncle Lam, and two other uncles from Pennsylvania (whose names escape me right now). We all followed them to the open grave. They arrived at the location, and carefully set the casket onto the thick bands above the open space. Everyone surrounded the casket and grave, holding onto our umbrellas and looking ahead as said our final prayers.
It was at this time when I started looking around me. All my uncles and aunts, who I spent the majority of my life with, looked like their hearts had been split in half. My other relatives from other areas across the world shared the same feeling. My thoughts instantly went to Uncle Toan and his family in Australia, and Uncle Hoan and his family in Vietnam (who’ve I’ve yet to meet). I looked over at my many little cousins, and thought to myself, “They can’t be dealing with a death like this at such a young age...” My eyes wandered to Faith, Uncle Quynh’s few-months old baby. When she was born, Uncle Linh was said to have jumped with joy, as he was finally an uncle for a younger sibling's son/daughter.
As the prayers ended, the casket was slowly lowered into the grave. People continued to sob as much as it rained, as we made our way to toss our flowers and such into the grave. I tossed my white carnation and said a little prayer. The grave was then filled with dirt and whatnot in no time, then with the flower arrangements from earlier covering the mound to create a mountain of flowers on top of my uncle’s grave. As we all walked back to our cars or to talk with one another under the tent, my heart suddenly felt so much lighter, as if a burden had been lifted, as if all is now well. I took in a breath and let it out. Turning around, I see Uncle Dan being pretty much getting pulled and pushed by my little cousins.
For the first time all day, I smiled.
After all this, we all went back to Uncle Linh’s house, as we were, well, pretty hungry. Saturday night was filled with all sorts of food, drink, and so on. It was seemingly like a celebration, you know? It was nice. I was glad to be reunited with some of my relatives again. Some of us went to Starbucks for a bit as well, as we sat around talking about life, school, and cars. It was a very good night.
Sunday came, and we all went to the 8AM mass. We all got together to eat dim sum afterwards, too. That was really lovely. After that though, everyone had to take off somehow or another, with my family going home and my other relatives returning to the east coast. It was a bittersweet farewell; I hoped to see them again, for a more light-hearted occasion.
On the road home, I cried myself to sleep once more as I looked up to the sky, uttering to myself,
“Uncle Linh, I love you and I miss you.”
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My uncle’s death was the first death in my life of someone who had been this close to me. Yes, I had been to two funerals before this for people who I met or seen, but never shared any connection with them. In the week(s) following his death, I lost myself in focus and concentration when it came to school; I rarely ate anything; I lacked more sleep than I ever had before; I cried so much to the point of having headaches all the time.
Just when I thought I had a set, general outlook on life for everything I’ve faced, I realized I had forgotten the experience of forever losing a loved one. It's as they say: experience is the key to knowledge and understanding. My perspective of life has ultimately gradually changed, and I can feel it. I’m scrambling to find the words to find the puzzle, but as I’ve said, because of this, I lost a sense of focus. And it hurts. I can’t think straight, I space out, I think of all the fond memories I’ve had with my uncle.
I visited my uncle once more this previous summer when my family and I went back up to NorCal for our annual trip. I brought along a box of mine, which contained my white piece of cloth from the days of the funeral as well as my black bandanna, which was soaked with tears from that time. We, as in my family, Uncle Vinh and Uncle Quynh’s family, and my grandparents, gathered to say some prayers. I sat down next to the grave and spoke privately to my uncle, telling him how I had been accepted into UCLA and how I’m unable to take him to any of the games now that he’s gone. He would’ve been proud. I remember it was college application season, weeks before he passed away, when I told my mom to ask my uncles to pray for this whole crazy college app process. He distinctly said, “So I prayed for your college apps and whatnot, you know, knocked on his door and all, but God told me to come back later.” I laughed it off, only to look back on it now to see that God actually answered.
I started this entry three weeks after his passing. I meant to post it on his 100-day anniversary, which was February 2, but was overwhelmed with finals. It’s only ever-so-appropriate to post it now.
As Uncle Quynh tweeted earlier today, “It's been a year since he left us, but forever he'll be in our hearts and mind. He was a great son, father, husband, brother, uncle, cousin.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
525,949 minutes.
8,766 hours.
365 days.
52 weeks.
12 months.
1 year.
It has been one year since my uncle, Linh Ngoc Nguyen (St. Francisco Xavier), passed away.
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In the entry prior to the one about my uncle's passing, I had written about all the deadlines, stress, and all this other academic junk I had to deal with. And I thought that was bad right?
Things took a turn for the worse of all things when my uncle passed away on October 26 at 1:30 P.M. He was 39 in American birth records, but according to his Vietnamese birth records, he was 40. He was to turn 41 in late November.
This entry is dedicated to him.
Days had come and gone, many tears had been shed, all focus lost at one time or another. I remember everything too well. Every day my mom cried; every day our family cried. It was tough for all of us. From that day forward, we were all struggling through our lives, coping with such a loss that was completely uncalled. For me, I was taking it just as hard as everyone else, topping it off with the stress of school, clubs/organizations, and, of course, college applications.
My uncle, like all other uncles from my mom’s side, had been a part of my life since the day I was born. Out of nine siblings, my mom was the eldest, followed by five consecutive brothers: Hoan, Toan, Vinh, Minh, and Linh. My auntie Hanh came next, then my uncle Quynh, and last but certainly not least, my auntie Quyen. And I love all of them like no other.
My mom always tells stories about one uncle or aunt to the next. They had been separated somehow or another (though most were already over here in NorCal) since the fall of Vietnam, until the summer of 2007. That was when everyone got together for Uncle Quynh’s wedding; it was undoubtedly one of the best summers of my life to date. I remember my mom shedding tears at the sight of Uncle Toan when she first saw him on the day of the wedding; it had been twenty years.
Back to the main point though, Uncle Linh was the one uncle who would call my mom every other day or so, checking up on how she was doing and always telling her not to worry about anything since he knows it stresses her out. He was caring, fatherly, and took on many responsibilities. Every year he and his family of his wife and two young daughters would come down to visit us, often taking us out for a good time. I loved spending times with them.
My last memory with him was in the summer of 2008, when my mom, sister, and I spent an entire week up with my uncles, aunts, and cousins. My mom stayed with my grandmother at Uncle Minh’s house, while my sister and I were under the care of Uncle Linh and Auntie Quynh (his wife~). I had never been so blissful that summer. And, as it has always been ever since I was little, I cried like a little baby when I had to leave all my relatives to head back down to SoCal. I never got out of that habit, even now.
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I remember my sister's phone call that Sunday. I was out doing community service for Key Club when she called me, sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn't decipher her words clearly; all I could understand was that something happened to my uncle as he was riding his bike. Diane and Lydia assured me with me a sense of hope that he was okay, that it was likely an accident that may have landed him in the hospital, but nothing terribly serious. That thought lingered in my mind as I waited another 1.5 hours before we left.
I arrived home around five or six that late afternoon, after singing in the car the entire way home from where the community service event took place. Upon entering the house, I went to my fridge, grabbed two cups of diced peaches, and rushed upstairs to find out the news. I entered my parents’ bedroom, and there was my mom on the bed. I asked what was wrong; she cried out,
“Your uncle’s gone, your uncle’s gone.”
I screamed. So loud, I felt the whole world could hear me.
In that instant, I fell to my knees at the bed. I didn’t know what to do other than drop everything, breakdown and cry. I remember asking out loud repeatedly, “Why did he have to go? Why? What did he ever do?”
My aunt and uncle from my dad’s side (Stela’s parents) came over shortly after I came home, trying to comfort both my mother and me as we cried profusely at the bed. I left the bedroom to go to my own room, where I continued to my breakdown. Diving into my bed, my mind was flooded with memories of my uncle, from when I was a kid to my very last memory of him prior to this incident. What shot an arrow through my heart was the fact that he left behind his wife, Auntie Quynh, and two young daughters, Caitlin and Kristen. Both were still under the age of ten. I screamed into my pillow and rolled around in bed, crying profusely.
After some time, I got out of bed to attempt to start on homework. I struggled trying to get anything done. Freaking Perrine’s. Who knows how many tears stained that textbook... I remember telling Diane and Lydia upon returning to my room onto my computer. They comforted me the best they could, as I continued crying at my desk in front of my computer. I cannot thank them enough for doing all they could for me that evening.
Going to school on Monday was what pained me the most. Wearing all black that day, I came onto campus to “the table” looking miserable. My eyes were poofy and red all means, from what some friends told me, and still, I cried at random points of the day. I told various people that day about my uncle’s passing, with numerous people comforting me and sending their condolences. I couldn’t find the will to keep a smile on all day despite any jokes that flew around. I appreciated the support and consolation of everyone.
A distinct memory from that day was when I was walking down the hallway in the A-building after my last class, AP English Literature. I encountered Mrs. Verhaegen, my favorite teacher of all time who I’ve known for five years, coming in the opposite direction. I cried out to her (as I always tend to do), “I’m sooooo depressed and sad and brokennnnnn~” as I walked to her with arms outstretched, waiting for a hug. She thought I was being swamped with work and whatnot (since it’s what I always do), but when I told her that my uncle had passed away, she hugged me even tighter. She’s like a second mother to me. I broke out into tears once more.
I came home later that day and went straight to my room for a needed nap. Upon waking up after two hours, a trembling voice came from the other room, and I went over to see what was up. My mom was talking on the phone with my grandmother about how things were up in NorCal and what plans were being made. Everyone was making arrangements for the funeral and such. Auntie Quynh and her two daughters were taking it rough. They were far too young to go through this. My aunt told the older one, Caitlin, that their father had fallen off his bike and was in the hospital. She broke out into tears and Caitlin cried with her mother. It woke little Kristen up, and she came out to the family room and cried with her mother and sister as well. When my mom told me that, we both broke out into tears, with my sister joining us later.
I also found out more heart-wrenching details of what exactly happened. The night prior to his death, my uncle was at a family get-together on his wife’s side. He had been displaying signs of exhaustion and acted pretty tired for the entire night. The next day, his wife’s older brother Tuan asked if my uncle wanted to go for a bike ride for a while, hoping that he’ll get over the exhaustion from the previous night. They ended up going for three hours, up and down hills and whatnot. Resting temporarily, Uncle Linh mentioned that his head was starting to hurt. Tuan assured him that they only had a short way off from finishing, and that they could do it. Upon starting to bike again, minutes later, my uncle fell off his bike, onto the ground. Tuan stopped immediately to see what was wrong. People on the road stopped their cars and dialed the police and ambulance. Checking his pulse, Tuan was unable to comprehend what had just happened. My uncle had died right on the spot, especially with the impact of his fall.
It turned out the reason behind his death was a heart attack, being pushed to the limits as such.
Tuan was a heart doctor.
I cannot imagine the weight he has on his shoulders.
For the rest of the week, I came to school wearing black in memory of my uncle. I received more condolences from people, including those from my church’s Youth Ministry and Bible Studies, classmates from school, and other teachers and staff who knew me. My mom and sister were to leave Thursday morning for NorCal. With some persuasion, I was to skip school on Friday to head up to NorCal with my dad. More tears were shed every day; not a day passed without the thought of my uncle lingering in my heart and mind.
The week went by too slow for my liking, but before I knew it, I was on the road for NorCal with my dad on Friday, which was coincidentally Halloween. I was texting Andrew almost throughout the ride up; he provided me with comfort and reassurance, and of course, how the school day was playing out. After roughly five to six hours on the road, my dad and I finally arrived in the area of the funeral home. I had to go into a restaurant to change into my black slacks and top before we came.
Upon parking the car, I encountered my other uncles, aunts, and numerous other relatives and close friends. I greeted them all alike, and Uncle Vinh and his wife (Auntie Uyen) led my dad and I into the funeral home to the viewing. As I made my way to the viewing, I saw my little cousins running around, and my older relatives talking privately here and there. I felt my chest tighten as I walked closer and closer to the chapel main room.
There it was. Everything was almost a complete blur to me at this point. My dad walked forward before me. I followed slowly after, as I recognized many of my relatives, including Auntie Quynh, my grandparents, and my own mother, all of whom were silent or crying. The room was filled with elaborate flower arrangements from people everywhere, all of which surrounding the casket in the front center of the room. Walking down the aisle, I felt tears pool up in my eyes. I starting sobbing by the time I reached the front. I took several more steps and stood in front of the casket, tears running down my face as I looked into the face of my deceased uncle.
My mother came up from behind me to put a white piece of cloth (tang) around my head as I stood there sobbing. I couldn’t believe that he was gone. One side of his face had been bruised from the fall; I think the make-up helped cover it significantly. Beside the other side of his face were letters, drawings, envelopes, and one of his favorite caps I used to see him wear. I wiped the tears away from my face with the sleeve of my top, as my mom led me to the pews to sit with her. My grandparents, Uncle Linh’s parents, stood beside us, crying over the death of their son who left the world far too early.
My sister and my numerous other cousins, Caitlin and Kristen included, ran over to me after finding out I had arrived. The two sisters almost didn’t recognize me until they looked straight into my face. I remember Kristen uttering, “Chị Trang~? Yay Chị Trang!” as she and Caitlin gave me a big hug. They ran off right afterwards, to go with Auntie Uyen, who was going to take them out to trick-or-treat in a neighborhood by their home. It was so painful seeing them run off as such. Soon after, my relatives from Pennsylvania arrived, including Uncle Dan and Uncle Kevin. Who would’ve thought that we’d meet again so soon, when the last time we had all gotten together, it was for Uncle Quynh’s wedding.
In between all the tears and tissues, this was more or less a time of reunion, especially when many of us were sitting around eating whatever food there was in the room next to the chapel main room. Uncle Vinh cracked some jokes that caused much muffled laughter, while other relatives noted the differences they saw in me since the last time I was around. It was bittersweet. The night went on with such moments, both happy and sad. Nonetheless, we all had an arrow shot through our hearts. This was particularly seen through the faces of everyone, when it came time to the final prayer session and viewing for the night.
We all left the funeral home later that evening, with many of us heading to Uncle Minh’s house. My family and I went to Uncle Linh’s house instead, where I was greeted by Caitlin and Kristen with their bags full of candy. I found that the living room had been turned into a sacred room of the house, with letters, messages, and a small shrine set up for my uncle. I also finally met up with Auntie Quynh as well, exchanging hugs and talking briefly before heading off. I stumbled upon Auntie Hanh as well, who had been in North Carolina for the last several months. After arriving in NorCal for the last couple days, she told my mom and I that she’d hear footsteps or knocks on her door, thinking it were Uncle Linh. After all, he had that tendency to play tricks and mess around with her. We couldn’t help but laugh, really.
After a rough night of very little sleep, the entire house was up and about by seven/eight for the mass and funeral. The weather outside was gloomy and gray; it looked like it was going to rain. I was dressed in all black once again, with a black blouse and sweater underneath a coat, along with dress pants and boots. We went straight to the funeral once more to get ready. We spent some time praying and crying, of course. Soon after, the mortuary people came to set up the casket, while some of my relatives and such received their white glove, showing that they were the pallbearers who were carry the body. It came to the very last moments before the casket was to be closed. Tuan and Uncle Quynh were the ones right at the body as the lid came to a close. We all stood within range as we watched them close the casket. My grandmother, my mom, and I were holding each other, sobbing as the casket was forever closed. I swear the three of us cried an ocean over that week.
We all went straight to the funeral mass right after, which was held at a church close to Uncle Linh’s home. Seeing all my relatives with the white cloths wrapped around their head and their somber faces pained me, especially at the sight of my many little cousins. The mass carried on as such; I found myself lost in thought throughout the time. Clenching my black bandanna that I had received from LDC’08, I wiped my tears as Uncle Quynh read aloud his eulogy. The whole room seemed to tremble at his words as he started to shake and lose his words at the podium. Being the youngest of the brothers, Uncle Quynh looked up to Uncle Linh, who came before him.
After the mass ended, we headed straight to our cars to go to the cemetery. I also encountered my godfamily, who managed to make it to this mass after an hour drive. They all gave me a great hug as I cried on their shoulders. As the car carrying the casket led the way, I noticed that there were probably more than fifty cars following it with the funeral sticker on their windows. The ride took about twenty minutes or so before we reached our designated location at the cemetery. By this time, it was already lightly raining; many of us walked under huge umbrellas as we made our way over to the large tent by the open grave.
We all gathered under the tent as the eight pallbearers carried the casket across the wet grass. Those who carried him were: person from mortuary, Uncle Kevin, Uncle Dan, Tuan, Uncle Quynh, Uncle Lam, and two other uncles from Pennsylvania (whose names escape me right now). We all followed them to the open grave. They arrived at the location, and carefully set the casket onto the thick bands above the open space. Everyone surrounded the casket and grave, holding onto our umbrellas and looking ahead as said our final prayers.
It was at this time when I started looking around me. All my uncles and aunts, who I spent the majority of my life with, looked like their hearts had been split in half. My other relatives from other areas across the world shared the same feeling. My thoughts instantly went to Uncle Toan and his family in Australia, and Uncle Hoan and his family in Vietnam (who’ve I’ve yet to meet). I looked over at my many little cousins, and thought to myself, “They can’t be dealing with a death like this at such a young age...” My eyes wandered to Faith, Uncle Quynh’s few-months old baby. When she was born, Uncle Linh was said to have jumped with joy, as he was finally an uncle for a younger sibling's son/daughter.
As the prayers ended, the casket was slowly lowered into the grave. People continued to sob as much as it rained, as we made our way to toss our flowers and such into the grave. I tossed my white carnation and said a little prayer. The grave was then filled with dirt and whatnot in no time, then with the flower arrangements from earlier covering the mound to create a mountain of flowers on top of my uncle’s grave. As we all walked back to our cars or to talk with one another under the tent, my heart suddenly felt so much lighter, as if a burden had been lifted, as if all is now well. I took in a breath and let it out. Turning around, I see Uncle Dan being pretty much getting pulled and pushed by my little cousins.
For the first time all day, I smiled.
After all this, we all went back to Uncle Linh’s house, as we were, well, pretty hungry. Saturday night was filled with all sorts of food, drink, and so on. It was seemingly like a celebration, you know? It was nice. I was glad to be reunited with some of my relatives again. Some of us went to Starbucks for a bit as well, as we sat around talking about life, school, and cars. It was a very good night.
Sunday came, and we all went to the 8AM mass. We all got together to eat dim sum afterwards, too. That was really lovely. After that though, everyone had to take off somehow or another, with my family going home and my other relatives returning to the east coast. It was a bittersweet farewell; I hoped to see them again, for a more light-hearted occasion.
On the road home, I cried myself to sleep once more as I looked up to the sky, uttering to myself,
“Uncle Linh, I love you and I miss you.”
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My uncle’s death was the first death in my life of someone who had been this close to me. Yes, I had been to two funerals before this for people who I met or seen, but never shared any connection with them. In the week(s) following his death, I lost myself in focus and concentration when it came to school; I rarely ate anything; I lacked more sleep than I ever had before; I cried so much to the point of having headaches all the time.
Just when I thought I had a set, general outlook on life for everything I’ve faced, I realized I had forgotten the experience of forever losing a loved one. It's as they say: experience is the key to knowledge and understanding. My perspective of life has ultimately gradually changed, and I can feel it. I’m scrambling to find the words to find the puzzle, but as I’ve said, because of this, I lost a sense of focus. And it hurts. I can’t think straight, I space out, I think of all the fond memories I’ve had with my uncle.
I visited my uncle once more this previous summer when my family and I went back up to NorCal for our annual trip. I brought along a box of mine, which contained my white piece of cloth from the days of the funeral as well as my black bandanna, which was soaked with tears from that time. We, as in my family, Uncle Vinh and Uncle Quynh’s family, and my grandparents, gathered to say some prayers. I sat down next to the grave and spoke privately to my uncle, telling him how I had been accepted into UCLA and how I’m unable to take him to any of the games now that he’s gone. He would’ve been proud. I remember it was college application season, weeks before he passed away, when I told my mom to ask my uncles to pray for this whole crazy college app process. He distinctly said, “So I prayed for your college apps and whatnot, you know, knocked on his door and all, but God told me to come back later.” I laughed it off, only to look back on it now to see that God actually answered.
I started this entry three weeks after his passing. I meant to post it on his 100-day anniversary, which was February 2, but was overwhelmed with finals. It’s only ever-so-appropriate to post it now.
As Uncle Quynh tweeted earlier today, “It's been a year since he left us, but forever he'll be in our hearts and mind. He was a great son, father, husband, brother, uncle, cousin.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.