I went to my mom's memorial mass at The Basilica of Our Lady of Perpetual Help (OLPH) in Brooklyn on Sunday afternoon on March 3, 2013. It was comforting to see a small Vietnamese-American community still having this collective praying ritual and celebrating mass with special intention for Mom. It's nice to be remembered by loved ones after passing on.
I no longer have the privilege and the pleasure to take Mom to a special Dinner on this Mother's Day weekend but I am honoring her spirit of unconditional love by sharing my thoughts. It's a blessing for people who still have a Mom to pamper.
I'm not afraid of death and am always ready to go when the Lord calls me. However, Mom's and Ellen Camhi's funerals showed me that I haven't made any arrangement for my own departure. So I started to look into the logistics by calling the Director of Leo P. Gallagher & Son Funeral Homes who handled Ellen's funeral in Stamford CT. It was an eye opener. Ellen's funeral was the first Jewish funeral I attended and I noticed the simplicity of the casket and learned that there was no embalming. That's what I would like to have too given the lower carbon footprint as a result. St. Mary's and catholic parishioners around Greenwich, CT have access to 2 cemeteries - the one in Rye has no more land and Putnam cemetery has some lots left - and the burial costs are high.
I checked my term-insurance and was shocked to find out that my benefits were substantially reduced and would be terminated after 85 years old. Alas, there would be no Maserati for my son and he might have to chip in for burial expenses. I must expire a couple of minutes before my youthful 85th birthday, otherwise some 50 K worth of premium payments would be wasted. I guess I should be glad to outlive my insurance policy.
My mom had a nice traditional funeral with viewing in open casket for only two hours and she had to be buried during the week up to Saturday (and not Sunday) before noon to minimize costs. She had no insurance. Luckily, Mom already had a plot at Mt Hope Cemetery in Hastings-in-Hudson in Westchester in New York next to Dad who passed on some 13 years ago, thus making things go smoother.
Mom passed on Wednesday night Feb 20, 2013 and had to be buried by Saturday Feb 23. Her favorite priest, Fr. Cao, had gone to Vietnam for Tet and didn't come back on time to give her the last rites which were given by another priest Fr. Loc. Luckily, Fr. Cao came back to NY on Friday and was able to celebrate the Funeral Mass with a few other priests on Saturday for Mom.
Mom's funeral made me ponder on a few issues. First where would I like to have Mass when my time comes? At St. Mary's or OLPH? I attend mass regularly at St. Mary's in Greenwich and only go to OLPH on special occasions, it takes some 90 minutes to get to Brooklyn. It's more practical to have mass at St. Mary's but the mass will be done in Vietnamese - the Gloria part sung in Latin - and the choir will have hopefully the same singers who have sung at Mom's funeral.
It isn't a pleasant thing to plan one's own departure but it's a necessity in providing a smooth separation for the loved ones remaining on earth. I no longer have that romantic longing in resting in Vietnam. To some extent, I have come to accept my "involuntary exile" from Vietnam. My parents are resting here for perpetuity. My siblings, relatives, and friends will follow suit. Why not me? I don't want to have another nomadic journey.
Where do I belong? Where have I been? Where will I go? These questions seem to be normal existentialistic questions that an individual would ask him or herself. But for Vietnamese exiles all over the world, these questions have another dimension that is deeply rooted in the ambivalence regarding our true identity. We are torn between two different worlds and two different cultures.
We live in a past that we didn't control, a present that we wish were different, and a future we know could not happen, at least in our lifetime...
There was confusion and displacement in my early years of adulthood but certitude to be immersed in God's love for eternity at my next rite-of-passage.
