Family gatherings will never be the same…meals will taste a little different and there will always be a sense of something missing…
My dear Aunt Hap passed away last week, a month shy of her 64th birthday. She was a beloved sister, aunt, incredible cook, a great listener, patient babysitter, and “second mother” to many of us nieces and nephews. Being the eldest sister of 9, Aunt Hap (or as we called her “Co Oi” – “Co” the Vietnamese word for “Aunt” and “Oi” her Chinese name) was our link to the past and the future. Through our busy daily lives, it was difficult to keep in touch with all the family members. Co Oi always knew what was going on in everybody’s lives. She was the one who connected us all. She had an excellent memory. She knew everyone’s favorite foods and would always make it when she saw us. She wouldn’t let us leave her house on an empty stomach. She was a woman of little words but her thoughtful actions said it all.
We lost Co Oi to breast cancer last week. It was painful to see her so frail and weak at the hospital. There were some days where we would come in and she would be wide awake and responsive, a little ray of hope we thought! But as if life was playing some cruel joke, those days would quickly pass…
At her memorial service, all the nieces and nephews were asked to contribute to the eulogy- a little memory or a few words in her honor. It was difficult to hear my sister and my cousins talk about her in past tense. It’s difficult for me to type this blog without choking up in tears…
I am thankful for coming from such a big family. We all came together during this difficult time, some even flew in from California. We were all there for each other, something Co Oi would have been happy to see. Actually, I know she was there with us…sitting in a chair, listening and smiling, as we remembered her and celebrated her life.
While she never married and had any kids of her own, in reality, she had 20 of us. Goodbye Co Oi. We love you and miss you…one day we will find a cure…

The funeral proceedings lasted 2 days. I didn’t bring my camera but my uncle brought his small DSLR so I was able to photograph the traditional Buddhist funeral ceremony on Day 2. My husband thought it was weird that I would want to document any of it. I think it was the photojournalistic instinct in me, or maybe it was my way of hiding my emotions behind the lens, but either way, photos help us remember her through life and death.





