Dear Lauren

Dear Lauren,

It's been about a week since your grandfather passed away. I wanted to write you this letter now, so that years from now, you'll know how I felt during this time and to have a record of the events of this last week.

Although you are only eight and half months old you too can tell there's something wrong with daddy. I want to tell you I'm sorry I scared you when I picked you up while I was still sobbing, the day your grandfather died. I was crying because I lost my father, but part of me was also sad that you are losing your grandfather at such a young age. I'm sorry you won't have memories of your grandfather to keep you company when you are older. So I've tried to save you different remembrances of him, so you'll be able to have an impression of the man your grandfather was to all of us, when that day comes that you ask me about your grandfather.

It's still a shock to most of us that he's gone. Although we've known for almost four years that your grandfather had colon cancer, and even just a month ago we knew there was no more chemotherapy available to combat the cancer because your grandfather's liver was too encased in tumors, all of us were still surprised that he left our lives so quickly. We had only decided that your grandfather should be put on hospice care a week before he passed away. When we took the step to get home hospice care help, we were anticipating having your grandfather with us for as long as three months. Thinking about it now I know it would have been an agonizing 3 months for your grandfather, and it's perhaps better he passed quickly and hopefully without too much pain.

Your grandfather passed away on March 26th, 2006 at 12:32pm in the company of your grandmother and your aunt Marie in the home we shared with your grandparents. I was less than 15 minutes away at the pharmacy picking up a prescription for your grandfather. Your grandmother called me while I was still waiting and told me to hurry home. I told her I had not yet gotten the prescription, and she said no matter, she would get it later, she needed me now. In that instant I knew that my father had left us, but somehow it still took my brain almost a full minute to get me moving out the door of the drug store and to my car. I left without the prescription and was home quickly.

I went home to discover your grandmother sobbing, holding tightly Aunt Marie, who was also visibly upset. Your grandfather was lying in his bed, unmoving, but I could have almost sworn I sensed movement within his body. My mother asked me to check his body, it was difficult to tell if there was a pulse or even any breath. So I called the hospice nurse who said they would send a nurse over to the house. It would be over two hours before a hospice nurse would be available. Meanwhile, my mother explained to me what had happened.

Your grandfather asked to be propped upright. He adjusted his oxygen, and then straightened out his cap, which he wore to keep his head warm after he'd lost all his hair to chemo. Then he exhaled, coughed up a little blood, and left us. Your grandmother sensed he wanted to set all to right before he left, including his own appearance. He was only comfortable leaving after he'd seen some of his relatives. His nephew Ling, cousins Ellen and Linda had only visited him the day before, along with his younger sister Lih Ping and her husband Jun. His nephew Hal had visited the week before with his wife and son.

While we were waiting for the nurse, I called your great Aunt Lih Ping and told her the news, then I called your great uncle Tao and let him know as well, both of them with their spouses came over to the house to help comfort your grandmother. Tao's wife Cathy arranged for Buddhist disciples to come to the house to give your grandfather a buddhist service for the deceased.

The nurse arrived and pronounced your grandfather dead, and your Papa helped the nurse clean the body and put on a pair of pants on your grandfather so he would be decently dressed when the funeral home came to pick him up. Shortly after that the Buddhist disciples arrived, and we started chanting. Your uncles Eric and Jeffrey came to help, and uncle Michael arrived as well. Uncle Michael watched Michaela and Mariah, while Papa watched you.

The Buddhist disciples laid a yellow burial shroud over grandfather. The shroud had lotus blossoms embroidered on it. We chanted "Amitabha" over and over again until 8 hours had passed since your grandfather's death. During this time different members of the family took turns speaking to your grandfather, letting him know it was okay to go and leave the earth. We told him not to worry his family was well cared for and he could go on to heaven.

After we finished chanting, the funeral home came and we all went upstairs except your Papa, who helped the funeral workers move your grandfather's body to their vehicle. The nurse had recommended we not witness the actual removal of your grandfather by the workers, as it would just be more upsetting to us.

It was not until Tuesday (your grandfather passed away on Sunday), that the funeral home had opening to meet with us to make arrangements for your grandfather's funeral service and burial. After we spent, what seemed to me like an agonizing 3 hours planning for the service and arrangements, we went home to work out the actual details of the service. Great aunt Cathy came over that evening to tell us what was required for the Buddhist service and we planned what time slots would be necessary for the different events. On Wednesday, I spent the day calling and emailing close friends to let them know of your grandfather's passing and of the funeral service. I also went about preparing the necessary items for the funeral and burial service.

On Thursday, your grandfather's obituary ran in the San Jose Mercury News and in the local Chinese newspaper. I also received many emails from Hofstra University where your grandfather worked for 31 years. None of us slept well Thursday evening, including yourself. You had come down with a small cold from day care, and it kept you up (and us) most of the night.

On Friday, the day of the service the limousine arrived early and picked up your grandmother, great aunt Jen, and aunt Sufen to take them to the funeral home. I drove my own car, as I was carrying many of the items we needed for the funeral service. Papa dropped you off at day care. I arrived at the funeral home first and set about getting ready for the service. Your aunt Annette arrived the same time I did and she set about helping me. At about the same time a former manager of mine Percy Kawas, and some current co-workers Diane Ruddle and Chris Kuhar came to pay their respects to your grandfather. We had planned an open visitation from 8AM to 10AM that morning, and people were already beginning to show up.

Other family members began to show up after that, your grandmother, great aunt Jen, aunt Sufen, uncle Ling and aunt Teresa (Charlotte was being watched by other family members), uncle Hal, great aunt Lih Ping and great uncle Jun, great Uncle Tao and great aunt Cathy, great uncle William, uncle Eric and uncle Jeffrey. Aunt Annette's mom came with her husband Don, and her nephew Craig, and nephew Mark and his family, and also with cousin's Amelia and Daniel. Family friends came, Frank and Glory Yu, Linda Yee and Vicky Tsai, Theresa Wang, Victor Chu, Rosa Liao, Michael Tu, and others. Other friends of mine came as well, Indra Singhal and his wife Vinita, Eric Godshalk, Alan Chan, Stacy Drumm, Phil Remaker and Rob Faris.

The service started shortly after 10, with the family paying their respects for and burning incense for your grandfather. Your grandmother and I were first, followed by your aunts Sufen and Marie and the rest of the family, and then friends. We chanted the Buddhists chants, the Amitabha Buddha Sutra and the name of Amitabha for your grandfather.

After the Buddhist service we held a western Eulogy for your grandfather. I started by reading your grandfather's own description of his life. Your uncle Ling followed me with a speech he had prepared. I did not know it at the time but your uncle Ling had written in his own blog that it wasn't his job to eulogize your grandfather. I'm afraid I have to disagree with your Uncle Ling. There was perhaps no better person to eulogize your grandfather than your Uncle Ling. As a younger member of my generation, he had the opportunity to spend time with your grandfather after you aunts and I left the home to pursue our careers. He wasn't in the immediate family, so he had a sense of perspective the rest of us didn't, but he was close enough to your grandfather that he felt an enormous loss at your grandfather's passing. I've saved your Uncle Ling's eulogy for you to read when you're ready. It's beautiful and loving and very touching.

Your uncle Michael prepared a wonderful speech, and your cousin Amelia read a poem of hers. Your great uncle Tao also spoke. At the end of the eulogies, I got up again and read some of the more touching letters from Hofstra. I spoke no words of my own, for I was at a loss for words, unable to describe my own loss adequately in the written form. Somehow this letter to you Lauren is my attempt to put everything back down into words and into something meaningful.

In Chinese tradition, the family invited all the family and relatives out to a nearby Chinese restaurant for lunch. This was followed by the burial service at 2 pm. What had started out to be a beautiful sunny day turned rainy and cold by the time lunch ended. Back at the funeral home, the funeral director gave the pallbearers (myself, uncle Ling, uncle Hal, uncle Michael, Papa, great uncle Michael (grandfather's cousin), uncle Jeffrey and uncle Eric), instructions on moving the casket to the hearse. After grandfather's casket was safely put in the hearse, we had a funeral procession up to your grandfather's burial site. The funeral home had set up a tent and seats for us, but the rain kept most of us wet anyway. The pallbearers carried your grandfather to the grave site. We had a moment of silence to say our goodbyes to your grandfather. Then we all turned away from the grave while the workers lowered the casket. Along with your grandmother I went first and tossed dirt and coins into the grave, followed by our funeral accessories (black arm band, white pallbearer gloves, the eldest son's sash, and the flower I had pinned to my suit). The rest of the family followed suit and said their good-byes.

We drove home that late afternoon, and still somehow I managed to be home first. I set up a flashlight in the doorway, and stepped over it into the house, a symbolic gesture of lighting our way out of darkness. Other family members joined us, and we talked about your grandfather, shared pictures, shared videos, and shared a Chinese dinner. You were with us as well, as Papa had picked you up from day care right after the burial service. Unfortunately this was during your period of stranger anxiety, so you didn't socialize much with your relatives. But all the same you were us, and you helped to be a light in an otherwise dark time.

It's a week after your grandfather passed away, and although the shock has lessened, it still remains a shock. He's really gone. I'll never get to hear him lecture us on his theories and beliefs, and I'll never be able to let him cook me dinner again. In the end I hope I made him proud of what I was able to accomplish with his help and guidance.

One day you'll read the blog posts I wrote about your grandfather, and how he brought us all to America. One day you'll read Ling's eulogy and the other remembrances of your grandfather. I hope these things fill you with the knowledge of where you've come from, and give you hope and love to get you where you're going.

Love,
Your dad