Remembering Goong Goong

My dad, known to me as "Ah Ba" and "Goong Goong" to my children, passed away in 2007 after fighting two long years of cancer. During these two years of battle, I was honored to have witnessed his display of love, patience and most of all, courage. Although he was the sick patient, he was always concerned about my mom's emotional and physical stability. I love my dad. I'm so grateful for his diligence in keeping our family together. He was a dedicated provider and loving father. Since his passing, we regularly visit his grave. My mom would call a get together and we would each bring a pot luck dish. The traditional Chinese grave ceremony starts with a spread of favorite dishes and tea. Roast pork, char siu, noodles, dim sum, you name it, it's there. You can also count on smelling the sweet aroma of incense as it burns in the air. As we arrange the flowers we speak of good memories of our dad. My mom usually likes to be left alone by the grave for a while so that she can personally speak to him. We then each take a turn to bow to my dad. It is a humbling cultural experience that reminds us to show respect to those who have gone before us.





I'm so thankful for my mom who is still alive to carry on traditions like these. I hope to memorialize her teachings so that one day, I may be a source of knowledge for my prosperity.


My husband and I have always felt it was essential to display gratitude to our elders and kupunas. One way we could do this together as a family was to regularly visit my dad's and my husbandʻs grandparents' graves. Iʻm grateful for opportunities like these when we can reflect on the accomplishments of our ancestors and the sacrifices they made for us. We usually sing, cry, and just "talk stories" to them. The kids will usually take turns saying, "Remember when Goong Goong use to give us $5 each when he visited him"....or "Remember how Grandma Rubby would sneak us cookies and candies from her bedside when no one was looking?". My husband and I would share with the kids stories about our memories growing up with these great people. We always leave teary eyed feeling even more love and appreciation for them.


Here is baby putting together Goong Goongʻs flower arrangement.


He did it all by himself with little guidance.

After I am gone from this earth, I hope my children will miss me enough to have the desire to visit my grave. As they sit their and reflect on our lives together, I hope they will know that the brush of the wind is a simple remembrance of my embrace. I hope the sound of my name will fill them up with warm memories and good thoughts. I hope they will testify that families are forever and that I will only be away for a season. I can just imagine smiling down on my kids and their kids as they respectively lay on my grave my favorite spread of Chinese dishes. I hope the little ones will fight over putting flowers in the vase for their, "Popo". Although Iʻm not planning on leaving anytime soon, the thought makes me feel complete. To be loved when you are alive is one thing, but to be loved even more after you're gone is just plain sweet. I feel I have much to do, no goodbyes for me yet. So for now, we will just focus on remembering Goong Goong.