Dad and my 2 uncles are now all together in Heaven.

Dad and Uncle Quoc. May they both rest in paradise together. ♥️

I really miss you today, Dad.  I wish I could see you one more time. I still come to this page ever so often. Somehow it helps me to feel close to you again. 💜 

Part 3:          Growing up, I always saw the disfigured finger but never gave it a 2nd thought. Now, it amazes me that those are the same two hands that built multiple expansions in your home, in order to accommodate your children and grandchildren, so that they could live comfortably. And you did this all on your own. Just you and your set of tools. My friend used to joke and call your home “The Orphanage” because you took any and all of your grandchildren in, w/o hesitation. Anytime. No questions asked. And you never sought any recognition or monetary compensation. 

The amount of unconditional love you carried inside was as massive as the burdens we put on you. Lord knows you have imperfect children, yet no matter how much any of us messed up or how many times we made the same mistakes, all was forgiven as soon as we walked through your door. To say that we were fortunate to have you in our lives would be a tremendous understatement. We cried endlessly the day that you left us, but I know God was waiting to welcome you home with open arms. We will miss you for all of eternity, Dad, but we are able to find some solace in remembering and celebrating your simple, yet oh so extraordinary life.

Part 2:          When I went to the hospital, you were intubated but still awake and alert. You were only allowed one visitor per day, so Mom stayed in the chapel while I visited you. I knew you were lonely in there by yourself, but you motioned for me to go because you were concerned for Mom being in the chapel alone for so long. When I asked if you wanted me to leave, you shook your head. But when I asked if you wanted me to go so that I could take Mom home, you nodded. So I kissed you goodbye and as I walked out, I turned back around to see tears in your eyes. I will never forget that moment.

When the doctors told us you had 1-2 wks left, our world was shattered enough as it was, yet you ended up leaving us in just 4 short days. I stared at your hand as I held it for the last time in the hospital. I looked at the bullet, lodged in your right hand ring finger, as if I was seeing it for the first time. Mom told stories of how you were imprisoned during the war for helping others flee from a country that no longer allowed them to live freely. 

Part 1:          Dad, I should’ve told you all the things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell you how much I love you and thank you for being everything that a father should be. Everything that a grandfather should be. Everything that a kind-hearted, decent human being should be. But I never got to say all those things. Not while you were still conscious anyway. I want to believe that you heard our voices as you laid in the hospital bed, sedated. As I poured my heart out through all the tears and spoke in your ear all the things I didn’t get to say, but needed you to know. 

Your last few days, I was careful not to say anything that sounded too “final” because I was afraid I’d alarm you. I wasn’t sure if you were aware of how grave your situation was. The intubation had left your throat swollen and your hands were too weary to hold a pen steadily, so you weren’t able to communicate any thoughts.

You are an intelligent man, and looking back, I realize you must’ve known your time was here but you didn’t want to be an “inconvenience”. You always put others first. Even in your darkest hour, you were concerned for Mom as she fell asleep w/o a blanket. You motioned for me to cover her up to keep her warm. You gestured to ask that your hospice care bed be pushed next to her bed so that the two of you could hold hands.

ong ngoai,
i’ve been struggling to find the right words to express how i feel.. but i’m hoping from where you are that you know my heart. we miss you so much.. i hope you can feel how much from heaven. i find myself remembering the conversation we had a long time ago a lot now.. we were talking about heaven & hell and you said something that will stick with me for the rest of this lifetime. you said “you have to strive to do good and be good, okay? if you knowingly sin and you don’t try to be better, you’ll go to hell.. so try and be good and follow god so that you can go to heaven, okay? ..because what is a heaven without all of you?” what is my life now that you’re gone, grandpa? i feel like there’s a missing piece.. and i feel like i won’t ever be whole again. i’ll miss joking with you, our trips to and from dialysis, seeing you on the couch on your laptop, trying your baked goods that you learned to make from youtube, your laugh, how hard you used to make grandma laugh, your fried rice, your voice, you fixing things around the house, waking up to the sound of you watering the plants, seeing you outside in the backyard, seeing you in general. i miss you physically being here with us. and i’ll miss you for the rest of my life. but i understand that this isn’t a good bye, it’s an i’ll see you later. because god needed you, didn’t he? he had to have, to call you home. i’d like to think you’re up there now, watering His garden, and that every time it rains you’re watering all the plants of the world. i love you endlessly, eternally, and i miss you even more. thank you for all your sacrifices, for your love, for your strength, for your relentlessness & courage, for being the best grandpa a granddaughter could be blessed with. thank you for spending one last christmas with us. i love you so so much. i promise to make you proud and to follow god.. so that i can be with you again one day in heaven, okay? until we meet again.

your na ♥️

Ricky and Uncle Wayne with Grandma and Grandpa

Dad with his granddaughter Ashley at Christmas time. 

Dad holding Palina, his first born granddaughter, at the hospital. 

Dad before church with my brother Sa and his grandchildren Louie, Palina & Sean. 

Dad with his grandkids on his 70th birthday. He loved each one of them more than life itself. All he needed in life was his family…and his plants. Let’s not forget his beloved plants.

If you knew my grandpa you’d know he loved gardening. I remember one year I came home to visit and grandpa was harvesting these bananas from his garden. The best bananas ever.

OBITUARY

Den Van Nguyen

February 20, 1942 – December 27, 2021

Goodbody Mortuary

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