Remembering Grandma Ngoc Tran (1921-2011)

My grandmother passed away yesterday at 2:19 in the afternoon. We drove home as soon as we could but we didn't make it on time to see her. She was 90 years old (91 according to the Chinese calendar). I wanted to take a bit of time today to remember her and to share some of my memories of her.

I think that it's important to celebrate her life even though she is no longer with us anymore - because what a life it was. This is a woman who had such a tough life and she always managed to love her children and laugh through it all. Born in Hainan, China, she immigrated to Vietnam and was arranged to marry my grandfather at eighteen. Together, they would build many businesses and have many children. They would live together to see the birth of eight children, sixteen grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.

My grandmother was born in the year of the Rooster, the same as me, which means that she was 60 when I was born. I remember being a child and thinking she was such a vibrant person, always laughing and showing us all of her gold teeth when doing so. I remember her loving my father so much that he could do no wrong in her eyes and she extended that love to each and every one of her grandchildren too.

Growing up, I heard stories of my grandmother and about how strict she was with everyone while still in Vietnam. She was the boss lady of the household and ruled the house with an iron fist. All of her daughters in-law were expected to help her in the kitchen, learn to cook, tend to their husbands and bear children. She liked her food a certain way and never ate beef because of a traumatic childhood experience. She was only about 4'8'' but she was a fiesty woman - everyone was afraid of her! We never believed any of the stories of her strict rule because with us grandkids, she was always so sweet and loving - always hugging and kissing us and telling us how much she loved seeing us.

At 80, before she got sick, my grandmother was still so incredibly strong. She took the bus to go grocery shopping, and you could often see her shuffling around always leaving my slow grandfather in the dust. I remember taking her to the local supermarket once and she said to the cashier afterwards (in English), "Thank you. I love you!" I was taken aback as to why she would tell a perfect stranger that she loved them and she said, "Oh, I thought you were supposed to say that to everyone. I hear it on TV all the time!" She was always doing funny things like that.

In the last few years, as she got ill, she began to lose her memory and her vision. And yet, she never complained - she still had her inner strength and determination. The last time I saw her, which was about two weekends ago, she had a moment of clarity and spoke to me so clearly. She held my face and said, "I love you very much. Thank you for bringing your dad home. You've gotten a little chubby but I still love you!" We both laughed and I told her that I love her too. That is what I remember her to be like as I grew up. Loving and extremely funny. She stayed that way to the very end - yesterday morning, she was telling my aunt to run out and get her some McDonald's!

With my grandfather, she would always pretend like she didn't care for his company and he'd pretend to follow her around like a lost puppy. They both got kicks from teasing each other that way. To me, it speaks volumes of their love when they could still laugh with each other after all these years. I am most sad for him because after 73 years of marriage, after all that they have been through together, he must now let her go. Yesterday, at the hospital, he insisted on getting out of his wheelchair to give her one last kiss - he drank a glass of water in her name and said to her, "You were with me when I was rich and you stayed with me when I was poor. And now, you've left me." Watching the two of them yesterday made me remember my own wedding vows...and I was reminded that love takes many forms throughout the years and you have to remain strong for each other.

My heart is broken today but I am comforted to know that she is in a better place. Her children picked out her burial clothes yesterday and said their goodbyes. She was so happy in the last few months to have all seven remaining children by her side - I know this because she told me so. Despite my sadness for the loss of my grandmother, I am grateful for her life and to have been lucky enough to know her.

Rest in peace, A-Pò. I love you and I miss you already.

Old Photos: Immigrants in Canada

I found this picture from my archived wedding folder. My brother had scanned a bunch of photos from when we were growing up to create a beautiful slideshow for my wedding.

My mother is only 26 years old in this photo and my father is 30. It's crazy to think that my parents were this young at one point - and that they came to Canada with two suitcases, no money and two children (more on that later too).

This photo is also hilarious in so many ways and it must have been soon after we came to Canada because my little sister wasn't even born yet. We arrived in March '83 and she was born in August. The outfit that my brother is wearing is an outfit that all three of us wore at some point (we have pictures to prove it too) and I laughed out loud when I saw that he was drinking a Coke (more on that later). Obviously, my dress is too short for me because you can see my diaper! Scandalous..even at one and a half. haha!

We are standing on Dundas Street where it meets Grange Place. I looked it up Google StreetView and I can see the same "Income Tax" sign in the background - business must be steady if they're still using the same sign from 1983!

History Lessons

I have a very large family. I've known this since I was little but for some reason, I have never really taken the time to get to know this very large family of mine. My paternal grandfather is one of thirteen and from what I know, each of his brothers and sisters had about seven children each. I have second cousins who are my parents' age and older and I am constantly confused as to what I should call people. Big sister, big brother, little sister, little brother... so many people.

On my mother's side, she also has a large family but we were never close to that side of the family because my mother barely knew them. My maternal grandmother is one of seven children and although most of her siblings have passed away, she has a large family of nephews and nieces with whom she stays whenever she returns to Vietnam. My mother recently reunited with her cousin from Denmark after over thirty years and we were so fortunate to have them come stay with us for a month while we got to know the "other side" of our family.

Having said that, there are plenty of places for us to stay when we arrive in Vietnam. The problem is...my mother and I have no idea who most of the people are! I am worse off, I barely know who my extended family is beyond my first cousins!

So it feels like I'm embarking on a different kind of adventure before my flight even takes off. I'm starting with the history lesson of my parents and their families and will eventually get to the point where we arrive in Canada. I have my parents to tell me stories but I know their memories are getting vaguer by the minute...so bear with me - there will be many things that I get wrong along the way and will not be ashamed when corrected. I want to learn about the place we left and the kind of life that my family had there before leaving everything behind - not to return there until almost three decades later.