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red epiphyllum bloom

Hey look at that. My red epiphyllum (cereus) bloomed tonight – just in time for what would have been your 45th birthday. Happy birthday, Kris. I miss you so very much.

Kris and I were not what my dad wanted. He wanted boys… sons. But he made do with the two of us – giggling goofballs in pigtails who probably got away with far more than sons ever would have. My father came to the US in his early twenties and over the nearly forty years that I’ve known him, has embraced Western culture more than most Asian dads I know. Because of that, Kris and I danced between obeying the strict Chinese father and palling around with our Dad – our friend. I got yelled at to improve my SAT scores as often as I was woken up at 2 in the morning to go night fishing for striped bass.

sailing with kris and dad

dad, me, and mom in rocky mountain national park

I typically describe my father as a big kid with a credit card and driver’s license to my friends. And my friends love him. Every one of them. My dad is a charmer. I’ve learned over the years that I view my parents with a far more critical eye than my friends do. It’s okay. My parents do the same to me. But that comes with the territory. That comes with being (Chinese) family.

reading to my nephew

humoring my niece

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They say friends are the family that you get to choose. But my family gets and gives that special unconditional love no matter what has been said or done. Throughout the week, family arrived and we crammed into Grandma’s small studio apartment to continue sorting through her belongings, making plans, and reminiscing about this kind and gentle matriarch who has touched all of our lives so dearly. Grandma’s four daughters have four distinctly different and strong personalities. The interactions among them are far more complex than magnetohydrodynamics and are not governed by the laws of Nature, but rather by the laws of the Heart.

sisters

recounting good stories about grandma

The grandchildren are another matter. We’re all pretty chill, cracking jokes, and sharing stories while the mothers fret over whether or not we’ve gotten enough to eat. In a rare moment, it was just the three cousins (the fourth was to fly in the morning of the service) at Grandma’s. Instead of the incessant chatter of the “adults”, we quietly sat on the floor making hair clips with white flowers for all of the female members of the family (to wear for 100 days) and mused over our family the way that only adult grandchildren can. We had to make vegetarian dishes for Grandma’s Buddhist service, so I chose to sauté soybean sprouts. Grandma always plucked the tails off of the sprouts, but I rarely do because it’s time-consuming. We had plenty of time. My cousin helped me trim the ends and it reminded me of all the childhood days I sat at the kitchen table helping Grandma clean the sprouts before dinner.

trimming the sprout tips

sauté

my cousins and their mom

another aunt lovingly prepares asparagus to send grandma off with good food

As more members of the family arrived in town, our meals out were less somber, more celebratory, more elaborate, and more filling. There was so much to do in preparation for Grandma’s services and there were so many loved ones around that the sadness faded and I felt as if Grandma was still there.

hand-pulled noodles (so cool to watch)

just getting started on lunch

the meal after the services (everyone was ready to pop)

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