Just as Sure as the Sun Rises, Someone is Waiting for Her

Today, my grandmother, Vo Thi Thieu, lost her life to breast cancer.

It was a returning cancer; a recurrence of a similar illness back fifteen years or so. It was something I didn't remember.

But today... if I forget what happened today, then I'm definitely not as grateful to my grandmother as I thought I was.

My grandmother was a faithful Buddhist monk. In the fourteen years I knew her, I can't remember a time when she ate meat. Every day, she prayed for at least three hours-- one in the morning, noon, and night. She raised me. When my parents went to work and my sister went to kindergarten, my grandmother stayed at home with me and taught me my ABCs, how to read, how to add.... I'm so thankful for that. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be as smart as I am today, nor as polite. Whenever other monks came over, she wouldn't let me go play unless I had properly greeted them, and made sure I minded my manners when speaking to my parents. I think it's because my grandma didn't raise my cousin Ben that he's so rude now... he's only six, and he cusses. A lot.

Out of all 14 of her grandchildren, my sister, brother, and I were fortunate enough to be raised by my grandmother. The reason why people can tell our parents, "Oh, your children are so good," is because my grandmother raised us. I truly believe that.

And, in a way, I think she's happier now. When she moved to America around eighteen years ago, she was mourning her husband... my grandfather that I never knew. She must have missed him terribly. And back in February, when she had water in her lungs and almost died, she was in a lot of pain. I remember standing by her bed with my sister, holding her hand-- the one that wasn't all swollen from the spreading cancer-- and chanting Buddhist prayers. I remember seeing a few tears slip from her closed eyes as she convulsed. When she came back from the hospital after that, she was alive, but I think she was dead inside. After all, she couldn't do anything-- she couldn't walk, she couldn't take care of her beloved garden, she couldn't stroll around the house she had bought with her own money. All she could do was rely on someone else and watch TV. And she must have been in a lot of pain.

I wrote an obituary for her last night, while I was praying for her, but the paper is gone... someone must have thrown it away. I was going to make it the first post here, but I guess that's impossible now.

But... I think I can sleep easy tonight. After all... someone is waiting for my grandmother, eagerly watching for her. And I think I can relax, knowing that she won't be alone.

Just as sure as the sun rises, someone is waiting for my grandmother.