Sunday, January 25, 2009

Memorial Service

It's 2am and I can't sleep. Too many thoughts running through my head. However, in the middle of my late night turmoil I feel some peace. My mom's memorial service happened earlier this day and I feel she was honored well. I'm so grateful for (my brother) Socrates and (his girlfriend) Kay Kay who worked with dad, and all the friends who helped out with the memorial service, and made it a good day to remember mom by. I am also so very grateful for all the people who came and honored our family with their presence. Thank you. I'd like to, once again, share my words from the memorial service as a tribute to my mom here.


Lesa Ying Kai Wong, my mom, was born December 14, 1945, and grew up in Jakarta, Indonesia. She spoke “Gond dong wa”, “Guo yu”, “Hokkien wei”, “Bahasa Indonesia”, and a little bit of English, and when she did speak English she had an Indonesian accent. Growing up, I never fully appreciated my mom’s diverse cultural background. And to this day I have so many questions about the unfinished stories she would tell me, or about the things that trickled out from her life that evidenced more unspoken stories, things that sparked my curiosity.

I remember my mom telling me about her youth in Indonesia, and how she would catch fruit bats for food. When I was in middle school she taught me some Indonesian words and a tongue twister. To this day I know how to say in “Bahasa Indonesia,” good morning, good afternoon, good evening, and “Ular melingkar-lingkar di atas pagar.” Knowing these things helped me to make my first Indonesian friend in high school, which was very helpful because the first year of high school was a difficult time for me, and any friendship I made felt like salvation from loneliness. She also taught me how to say a few words in “Hokkien wei.” Although I don’t use these phrases much, knowing how to say thank you, you’re welcome, and have you eaten yet in “Hokkien wei,” definitely helped me to feel more comfortable during the lunches at Annie’s former church, Seattle Formosan Christian Church, where I would be able to understand those phrases amongst the conversations of the older Taiwanese people that surrounded me. My mom was also a very good artist. She used to wear these intricate, long beautiful dresses, which I found out later in life, that she had designed and sewn herself. The dress she is wearing in the picture on your pamphlet is probably one of the dresses she designed. I also remember how, in my adolescence, she would draw intricate little birds perched on branches and have me follow steps in trying to draw them. Those moments are some of the most joyful memories of my childhood. Drawing became a skill that I excelled in, a way for me to understand the world, and a foundation for my interest in art. Soon enough, as an adult, I was doing my own sketches as a graphic designer.

Those are only a snippet of the many fond memories I have of her as I grew up, and of the ways my mom has influenced my life. But for now, I’d like to share some things about her that stand out to me the most. When I think of my mom I think of someone who is very beautiful. I remember that even as a little child, I would look at my mom and dad’s wedding pictures and think, “Wow, she looks so pretty, elegant, and graceful.” But there is an even deeper beauty that still speaks to me today in profound ways. One of the most beautiful things about my mom was her tenacity, the ability to keep going on for others.

Our family went through many difficult times. Moving from California to Seattle in 1991, we set up a small watch shop in Beacon Hill and every day my mom sat in that shop, sold and fixed watches, cooked for my brother and me, and tried to make sure we didn’t cause trouble (which more often than not we did). We constantly scraped along, not knowing whether or not we would be able make enough money to pay our rent and bills. And so we worked hard, especially my mom, who was at the shop seven days a week, from early in the morning to late at night. Eventually our shop moved to Chinatown and we did the same thing, sold and fix watches, and even at one point set up a small deli. And every day my mom sat in that shop, sold and fixed watches, served at the deli, cooked for my brother and me, and tried to make sure we didn’t cause trouble. There was also one time where we even set up a dance studio, and my mom maintained that as well. Through all of the changes and difficult circumstances our family went through, my mother was always determined to move on and take care of our family in the only way she knew how, which was to remain steadfast in her hard work, because she loved us. This was my mom.

In 1997 she suffered a serious stroke, which was the onset of her health problems. Slowly her ability to move freely and at will waned, but her spirit didn’t. I remember how after that stroke, her hands became very weak. And although her hands were weak, she would wash the same set of dishes over and over. Sometimes washing those dishes up to three times to make sure they were clean. And even though she wasn’t able to work at the shop anymore, she would do as many things as possible like the laundry (climbing up and down four flights of stairs because the laundry room was so far down in our apartment), vacuuming, making the bed, and other tasks around our apartment in order to take care of us. Many times it was difficult to watch her struggle through the tasks that she used to do with ease, but her determination spoke of an unwillingness to give up on taking care of her family.

However, as time passed by, her body slowly gave up on her, and eventually there was not much she could do but to be taken care of by us. Even so, I believe my mom was always determined to be present for us. Though all she could in the last few years of her life was to lie in bed. Her tenacity was still there. I know this because whenever Annie and I were able to go back to my parent’s home to visit her, she would muster up the strength to greet us with a smile and kiss, hold our hands, and communicate with us through gestures. And though she couldn’t talk, we would be able to see in her face the love she was trying to communicate to us. It spoke of the same tenacity I’ve grown up seeing in her my whole life, which was her ability to be there for others despite any hardship she faced. Whenever we were present with her – she was definitely there for us.

My mom passed away between nine and ten in the evening of January first. When I got the phone call about her passing away I had so many mixed feelings. In some ways I knew it was her time to go home to God, and in other ways I couldn’t believe she was gone. I think part of the reason why I was so shocked by her passing was because of my mom’s tenacity. Earlier I had spent most of the day with her at the nursing home. The nurse would say my mom didn’t have much time, but that she was also a strong woman and there was no telling how long she would still be around. Her body was slowly shutting down, but even in her last moments she was there for me. Although she couldn’t do much, as I spent the day with her and spoke to her, whenever she had the strength she would let me know he heard me. For hours, that last day, as I called out to her, holding her hand, she would open her eyes to look at me, and squeeze my hand. And every time she opened her eyes and squeezed my hand, I saw her love for me and how she longed to be there for me, to be there for our family. Even in her weakest moment it was hard for me to think she would pass away because her spirit was so strong and persistent. So that was my last day with her, and the impression I am left with. That in her weakness she was so determined, and so loving.

To this day I wonder what made my mom such a beautiful, strong, faithful, and determined person. What stories in her life shaped her and made her the way she was? A woman with many skills, many unique and interesting things about her, who had a vast background, and who lived solely for the love of her family. And so I keep wondering, and I hope that the wonder of my mom’s life never fades from my memory. I miss my mom a lot. She’s added so much my life, and I feel like I’m only beginning to realize that in a rich and meaningful way now. But it comforts me to know that she is finally liberated from her sickness. She is flourishing, complete, beautiful, free, and at peace before God’s presence.

Mom, thank you so much for your love. You took care of us and when you couldn’t take care of us you were still there for us. You were always a part of our lives and will still be. I look forward to the day I will see you again. I love you mom. We love you mom.




Saturday, January 3, 2009

Abandoned Treasure

Recently there have been so many thoughts and feelings pent up inside, I've felt consumed. So in order to find some relief, I've taken to the idea of letting some of it leak out here. Maybe this impulsive decision to start blogging again will be good for me.

One of the heaviest weights on me right now has been the recent passing away of my mom. I had been on vacation in Hong Kong when I found out that my mom was admitted into "comfort care." After many years of strokes, pneumonia, and other physical hardships her body was finally unable to keep up. Fortunately, I was able to book an earlier flight back to Seattle to spend some time with her before she passed away. My flight arrived in Seattle the evening of December 31st and I was able to see her that night and spend most of the day with her on January 1st (the day she passed away). That day I was blessed to be able to stay by her bedside, thank her for raising my brother and me, tell her how my family loves her, how much God loves her and that she will be home with God soon, and feel the warmth in her fragile hand as she squeezed my hand in response.

After leaving home to rest a bit I received a call at 11pm that my mother had passed away. I drove back to the nursing home where she was at and saw her body there. I knew she was gone, but it felt so surreal at that time. Even though I knew she had passed, I looked for the faintest movement to show that she was breathing. As I reached to touch her hand for a second, I laid my fingers gently over the blanket covering her hand. Her hand felt so light and cold. Waves of sadness swept over me. The knowledge that my mom was gone, became very weighty and real to me.

Since Thursday (January 1st), I've been thinking about all that I told my mom that day, and I realize her life story has so much yet to be spoken to my life's past, present, and future. To honor her would be to know her tragedies, victories, sacrifices, and stories yet told; and to learn how they tie into my family's life as well as mine. I feel like there has been an abandoned mine with great treasure to be dug out. Abandoned because we have been busy with other things we deem treasures. Abandoned because so often we run away from engaging in the richness and tensions of family, until the opportunity may be lost. Yet to start digging is such a frightening task. How will I go about searching the intimidatingly dark areas of the abandoned mine with my family? What will it cost? Surely it will be costly, because often the stories of the lives closest to us will change us, and change is something we want to control. I know I feel that way. I also feel like God is beckoning me to cherish my story, especially the parts that I do not know about, the parts of my story that exist in stories of my mom, dad, and brother.

I miss my mom a lot, and pray that I would be able to honor her well by cherishing the family she lived to serve and the wonderful story God has crafted her life to be. May my life be genuine and meaningful in the way that God has designed it - connected to a beautiful tapestry of relationships - and may the passing of my mom into God's hand be a beautiful and intricate design woven into the fabric of life.