09/12/06

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The following are articles I have written throughout the years.  Per Dung's encouragement,
I saved these articles to commemorate our growing up together.  It is for Dung with all my heart.

I wrote this one for my former seminarian classmates (LesGabriels), as together we prayed for those classmates and
relatives that had passed away.


From: Vui Le
Sent: Sunday, June 08, 2003 2:16 PM
To: francis tran; Le, Van Phuc (Phil)
Cc: les gabriels
Subject: RE: Xin anh em va gia dinh Gabriels cau nguyen
 
Grandma
 
My wife Dung's Grandma died at the age of 90. She died peacefully, but her spirit lives on.
 
The last time Dung and I visited her was two years before her death.  She was already weakened by the old age  Her hearing, her sight have all but gone.  The cancer has eaten up more than half of her lungs, and she was no more than just skin and bones. When we were there, this frail old woman was so pleased to see us.  She woke up early each day working in the kitchen, preparing meals, smiling and telling stories.  She cooked Dung's favorite dishes, and made Dung write down the recipes.  In the evenings, she sat by my wife holding her hands as she recited old events.  She gave my wife all her time and attention that she could. This shy and private woman asked us to take many photographs of her on this trip. Before we left for the airport, she embraced Dung for a long time, tears swelled in her eyes as she made me promise to take care of Dung and the kids.  Dung cried all the way home.
 
We arrived to pay our respect early in the morning at the funeral home.  The small private room where the family congregated was full of flower arrangements.  Her small body was laid solemnly in the oversized coffin.  Lonely, serene and silent. The gentle music was barely heard over the small talks of family members.
 
By the late morning, a small crowd of visitors gathered; and by noon they moved her into the largest chapel of the place to accommodate the gathering.  Former President Nguyen Van Thieu showed up at noon to pay respect to his aunt.  At five o'clock in the late afternoon, they buried her. The misty Northern California rain could not disperse a crowd of more than five hundred people until late into the evening.
 
You see, God has given Dung's Grandma a gift.  Her gift was a gift of self, and she had given it freely to persons of her contact.  She was the glue that binds the family together.  She was the reason that we had gotten to know parents, uncles, aunts, children, nieces and nephews. She was the life of generations.  In dying, she lived on in each one of us.
 
As we pray for our departed dearests, remember them for their gifts to us.  I remember Nghia in his glasses. Skinny and tall, he was the first one in our class to sport an inkling of a mustache.  His sweaty palms, his ever present smile, his artistic drawings, and his soccer playing. Do you remember Trung?  Remind us about Trung.  Let us keep the memories.  Let our friends live on in our remembrance, for it is through these recollections that we can celebrate the Gifts of God.
 
God bless us all and have mercy on their souls.
 
Vui Le

 

 
     

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