Honoring our Fathers

Last evening at the Shrine of Our Lady of the Snows in Belleville, IL, prayers were offered up in remembrance of Duong Sau and Cau Nam and for the rich family legacies they passed on to us. 

We children bless our fathers and their memory for their love and lessons they instilled in us. For these two great men, love of family and self sacrifice filled their lives and taught us to set our sights on what is lasting and meaningful. At sea, they gave up everything to seek safety and a better future for their families. For their courage and sacrifice, we can do nothing to repay but to honor them.  For in the Vietnamese way, what is the measure of a man or a woman but in how he or she honors his parents. And so, for these men and women, our parents, we offer up lasting gratitude and remembrance for their love, their greatness and the honor that we bear in their name. And unto the Eternal Creator, we children entrust their spirits' return as we hold fast to the memory and legacy of their honor filled lives.

    

There is an appointed time for everything,
and a time for every thing under the heavens.
A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant.
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to tear down, and a time to build.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them;
a time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces.
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away.
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to be silent, and a time to speak.
A time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war, and a time of peace.

What advantage has the worker from his toil?
I have considered the task that God has appointed
for the sons of men to be busied about.
He has made everything appropriate to its time,
and has put the timeless into their hearts,
without man’s ever discovering,
from beginning to end, the work which God has done.

-- Ecclesiastes 3:1-11

Ong Ngoai, 

You will always be remembered as the leader and the rock of our family. You have created a family of loving, giving, and caring people. You taught your children to work hard and to give back when they can, important qualities that they have in turn taught your grandchildren. We are close-knit as a family because you taught us to get along with one another and to work together in order to create fun memories such as talent shows, Christmas skits, fun videos, and sing-a-longs. Our family gatherings were always exciting and full of life because you insisted that they be that way. Because of your insistence, our family has a multitude of fun memories that will last us a lifetime.

You also taught me about the importance of building a good foundation for my education. As I embark on my senior year of college, I am grateful for your words of advice because they have helped me, through building that strong foundation, to mentally prepare myself for whatever may come next for me. I hope that I have made you proud in my endeavors thus far, and that I continue to make you proud as I pursue a career as an occupational therapist. 

Although God may soon call you home, your legacy will live on through the wonderful family that you have built. We will miss you, and we will live our lives in God's name just as you have taught us to, hoping to one day be reunited with you again in heaven.  

I love you, Ong Ngoai!

 

Annette Huynh

Vanity of vanities, says Qoheleth,
vanity of vanities! All things are vanity!
What profit has man from all the labor
which he toils at under the sun?
One generation passes and another comes,
but the world forever stays.
The sun rises and the sun goes down;
then it presses on to the place where it rises.
Blowing now toward the south, then toward the north,
the wind turns again and again, resuming its rounds.
All rivers go to the sea,
yet never does the sea become full.
To the place where they go,
the rivers keep on going.
All speech is labored;
there is nothing one can say.
The eye is not satisfied with seeing
nor is the ear satisfied with hearing.

What has been, that will be;
what has been done, that will be done.
Nothing is new under the sun.
Even the thing of which we say, “See, this is new!”
has already existed in the ages that preceded us.
There is no remembrance of the men of old;
nor of those to come will there be any remembrance
among those who come after them.

-- Ecclesiastes 1:2-11

Dear Dượng Sáu,

I know you can read this and can see our hearts, even though you can not reach out to any of us.  Your picture here looks so peaceful and comforting as you were in real life.  Your family was blessed to have you, and we cháu were blessed to know you.  You were the kind of person that made everything and everyone around you better, and I know God loves you very much.  For that I am not worried, but out of love and respect, I pray for you everyday at Mass and whenever I pray, along with my prayers for my Dad.  

Thank you for being there for my Dad when he had nothing and nobody else.  Thank you for the compassion you showed all of us.  I know with certainty that God rewards you for all this.

 

Dạ Thu
September 24, 2014

Dear Ong Noi,

 

In my opinion, letters are the most powerful ways to receive love. At Boston College, there is a weekend for every student to get away from campus and receive letters from their friends and family, telling them how much they are loved and how much they are cared for. It teaches all of us how powerful love is, how important we are to others, and how many lives we touch. With that said, it is hard to put into words how thankful I am to you.

The importance of family is the greatest lesson you have given me. You would always have your children and grandchildren with you for holidays, and even with such a huge number of people, there was no chaos. There were so many people in a small space yet you were never overwhelmed and never upset. You just cherished the moment. Every time I looked at you, you were smiling; you were so happy to be surrounded by your family, and it makes me so thankful that you always loved to have us over at your house, for everything!

You’ve made me want to have a big family. I look around and see how happy all my aunts and uncles are and it must be such happiness to have so many successful children and to be constantly surrounded by loved ones. One day I want to have a family like our family. What I mean by that is, I want to be in your place, as Grandpa Minh or Ong Noi, with all the kids and grandkids running around the house, all laughing and playing together. Family is important, and you’ve shown me that. And because of you and my dad, I know how to show the importance of family to my kids one day.

Also, I’ve learned that hard work always pays off. Looking at you, your hard work has always paid off. The nights that you spent working those tough jobs, like with the garbage or 7/11, allowed my aunts and uncles to go to college. And you impacted them as well. You made them hard workers. My dad always tells me he studied nuclear engineering because it was the hardest. In my opinion, he worked so hard because he saw how you worked. And now he’s still working hard and studying hard! And because of this tradition of hard work, I studied computer science. I knew it would be difficult, but I also knew it would pay off in the end, as I will one day have a family that I can support and send to college. And every time I get lazy, I know just think about you and my dad, knowing how hard you both worked. I know I can do the same. We have the same blood—if you can do it, if my dad can do it, I can do it.

            Another lesson I learned from you is one of faith. You have so much faith and you passed it down not only to your kids, but also to your grandkids. You served as the perfect example of a Christian—everything I’ve seen and heard shows that you’re so selfless and so loving. The stories of starting over in America prove that. You’re never afraid to give love, even simple instances of a smile or a compliment. To me, that is the essence of Christianity: to love. It is the greatest things humans can do.

            You’ve served and will always serve as a role model for me. I look to you as an example of the person I should be. I want to be just like you. I want to have a family like you. I want my kids to be as hardworking as yours were. I want my faith to be as strong as yours.

You’ve given me so much to be proud of. I’m proud to be a Le. I’m proud to be Vietnamese. I’m proud to be a Christian. I’m proud to call you my grandpa, Ong Noi, and I promise that I will keep your legacy alive.

 

Love,

Minh

 

August 19, 2014

Raleigh, North Carolina

From Vinh Le
August 20, 2014, Chicago, Illinois 

Looking back, my favorite memories are the ones that I was the most embarrassed of at the time. From going outside to bring baby Jesus and put him on top of the fireplace to singing Happy Birthday to him every year to obliging Ong Noi and singing songs I had learned in Italian weeks before, I was always kept on my toes what we would be doing next. At the time, I was always slightly embarrassed or confused as to why we were doing all of these things, but went with it because everyone else in the family was.

Those are the moments I always took for granted. When I moved to New York for college and later to Chicago for work, I met more and more people from broken families. Maybe their parents or grandparents were divorced. Maybe there was a huge blow out and their aunts and uncles didn't talk to each other. Maybe they simply weren't close. Whatever the case, I was always amazed that what I took for granted wasn't the norm. You mean, you didn't spend every holiday, every birthday, random occasions as a giant unit? You didn't see your grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins every two weeks while you were growing up? I was astonished - what had seemed a familial obligation began to take on a new light.

Now that I'm older and farther away, I realize that if it weren't for Ong Ba Noi, I never would have these memories. I wouldn't be able to say to Van and Minh, "remember how we had to act out Nativity scenes?" and laugh in fondness about it afterwards. The importance of family is a trait that has carried through and been passed on among the different generations. To keep a family of 8 kids, spouses and their grandkids together is a feat that sounds insurmountable, and yet, that is what I was fortunate enough to grow up with.  

When I look back at those memories, there is one constant. I remember that whether or not I was having fun at the time, whether or not I was embarrassed or confused, Ong Noi was there - sitting peacefully in the back, taking everything in. And why shouldn't he? If it weren't for him, who knows if we would have even been under the same roof.

 

August 19, 2014

For Ong Noi:

As a child, I adored you. Happy and calm, strong and steady, a young grandpa I grew up with. I loved all of my grandparents, I loved my parents, I loved family.

As I grew older, none of that changed, but I realized how rare and strong our family bond is. Many of my friends had grandparents, but far away, and definitely none that they saw as frequently as I did. Family was an obligation to a lot of my teenager friends, but I was always happy to attend a cousin's birthday or stop by and say hello after a haircut on Saturday.

When I became an adult, studied in college and moved away, I truly began to realize how precious my family is and how lucky I am. At this point, some friends didn't have grandparents who were alive, some didn't even have a good relationship with their parents. Many were lucky their parents were even together. Still, I adored you. Still, I loved family.

Now, married and reflecting on what God has given me, I understand the importance and impact you have had on not just me, but all of your children and grandchildren. No divorces, happy, healthy children with jobs or well on their way to getting one. We are all so, so blessed.

My father is one of the most important people in my life. He's been my guide and my rock, and that is a reflection of you - he is the younger version of you! I have learned over the years that his calming presence, his practical patience, his demeanor and even his laugh come from you. Thank you. Thank you for raising the man who raised me.

When I met Matthew and he told me of his large family, I was surprised. At the same time, it drew me to him. The importance of family and love was in him, and that was what I needed. He understood without question, flying down from Chicago to come see you when you got admitted to MD Anderson the first time. He understood and needed to see you as a married couple, before we were off to begin our lives together. Now, I hope you see, that we adore you.

I want you to know that above all, I respect you. I admire you. The family and foundation you have built, so incredibly strong and enduring, is something many strive for - something only Matthew and I can hope for, to make you proud as we start another branch of your family tree. Learning of our family history, hearing your stories, there isn't enough I could do or say to show you how proud I am to be a part of your life and to have known you as a man. 

 

Van Le Cain
Dallas, Texas

MY DAD

It was Wednesday, April 30^th 1975. The sky over Saigon was gray, and the river bled a mucky muddy-brown color. Our family had just been picked up by a ragged ill-repaired river tanker. Duong Bay had just helped get the old diesel engine restarted, and the old boat began its continuing struggle down the river. On deck, things settled down to an eerie uneasy calmness. At the stern of the ship, Dad stood silently looking back at the shore. His lips quivered. The evening sun answered him by shedding its golden rays reflecting over the waves as though to say goodbye to the lieutenant colonel.

… Late November of 1975 in Charleston, South Carolina: Dad turned the old beat-up white Plymouth Valiant down a dirt road to go pick up his first paycheck at Charleston Waste Refuge Center. The wind picked up, and a putrid stench hit the non-air-conditioned car like a tsunami. I pinched my nose quickly, but Dad remained unfazed. We were still more than a mile from where he worked.

… One day in 1984 in Houston, Texas: Dad emerged from the walk-in cooler in his tattered pilot jacket smiling. My Dad, the 7-Eleven Store Manager, did the heavy lifting, so I could stand at the register in my clean orange uniform.

These are some of the images of Dad that I will never forget.

Dad has always been a solid anchor to me. From that fateful day on the Saigon River, when he stood at the stern saying goodbye to the land of his ancestors, to the shaky steps he took going from his hospital bed to the portable toilet; this man I called Dad was always solidly grounded in my heart.

Every time I thought of Dad, I want to yell out at the top of my lung, “I love you, Dad.” although it is an un-Vietnamese thing to do.

Last Sunday, I spent a full day with Dad at MD Anderson. We talked about many things. Things that are important to him at this time: God, religion, theology, faith, and family. We talked at length about his life mission, his hope, and his unfinished dreams. He faded in and out during our chat, but his mind was still sharp, his manner gentle, and his smile ever present.

“I love you, Dad.” I wanted to yell out at the top of my lung, though it is an un-Vietnamese thing to do.

But I did not have to say it so loud, Dad said it for me. He said it in the way he shifted his weakened body to gesture, when he excitedly told me about how much he loves my daughter Van and my sons Vinh and Minh. He lit up when he described his hope for them and for our family. He said it when he acknowledged in gratefulness for my thoughts and prayers for him. He saw in my actions that I love him. The man never thought of only himself. Yes, that is my Dad—a man who always thinks of others even on his death bed. This is my Dad, my hero of war and peace—a man that fought for his beloved country, sorted trash to feed his young family, worked long night shifts hours to put his children to college. This is my Dad. My Dad is a man filled with love.

My Dad is also a man of courage. For 25 years, he gave his very best for a country of his love. He never bragged about his Purple Heart and a host of other medals he had deservedly earned during the War. To him, it was duties, honor and country. He proudly defended South Vietnam, until that fateful day in April. I remember that day, as though it was yesterday: how my Dad calmly pushed each of us onto the tanker amidst the raging waters, then swiftly came back for Mom. His actions were deliberate and valiant. His manner was intrepid and steadfast.

Then in America, he demonstrated his courage in different ways. He worked hard to feed his family. It did not matter whatever job it was at the time, my Dad did everything with pure determination—a determination that fueled by the hope of a better life for his children. At 7-Eleven, he replaced the danger of war with the risk of nightly robbery. He exchanged the fire fight in the jungles for the dark nozzle of a stick-up gun on the night shifts. Yet, he came back again night after night determining to make a better life for his family.

Then late last year, he got tired more easily. By the time my sister Ha convinced him to go to MD Anderson for check-up, it was too late. The leukemia was wide spread. The doctors gave him only days to live, but he fought on. Last month, when they sent him home saying there was nothing else they can do for him, again he fought on. My sisters gathered around to care for him, and he fought on never to give up. It is his will to live that drove God to grant him the extra time.

But now the time has come. The fluttering flame on the candle that had nothing left to burn is gone. In his last days, he told me about his dream of having his children and grandchildren continue his legacy. His is a legacy of love, courage, and determination. His life is the epitome of these characters. My Dad loves unconditionally, he dares to take on challenges, and he determines to persevere. Using the words of Saint Paul: my Dad has fought a good fight; he has finished the race; and he had kept the faith (2 Tim 4:7).

“I love you, Dad.” And I want to continue your legacy.

Though I may not have the intensity of love, of courage, and of determination that you exhibited; you must know that the blood that runs through my veins is that of yours. You must also know that your actions and manners are the lessons that I have learned. You must also know that the quirky, nerdy ways that I behave; I have inherited them from you. I will try my best to carry on your legacy, and perhaps, my children too will one day be immersed in that heritage as well.

It is now time for you to sleep. With love, courage and determination, you must make one last move. You must reach out and touch the Face of God. Let the Lord embrace you in your final moment. Let the angels in heaven welcome back one of their own. Let the choir of heaven sings out “Be Not Afraid”. O Dad, let your final act be one of celebration of a life well lived—a mission well accomplished.

As you wish, in the end, we will dress you in the traditional Vietnamese Áo Dài and Khăn Đóng for your eternal sleep. This is to symbolize your desire of paying the ultimate respect for the country, tradition, and values you so deeply loved. It speaks volume for your yearning for legacy. And with this legacy, I will be proud to continue.

 

May the Lord bless you and keep you.
May the Lord let His Face shine upon you and be gracious to you.
May the Lord look kindly upon you and grant you Eternal Peace.
Amen. (Numbers 6:24-26)

I love you, Dad, and go in Peace.

Le Cong Vui
August 20, 2014
Houston, Texas