Unexpected Funeral

I attended my first funeral in my life on Thursday evening in Ba Ria near my grandmother’s house. Couple of aunts, one uncle, and one grandmother called me on Thursday morning to request my presence at the funeral. Hesitant about taking time off from work, my mentors at Pasteur were empathetic and told me that I should attend to my family responsibilities. About 2 hrs later I was back in the countryside sitting with countless and nameless Phams.

This funeral was for the unexpected death of a healthy Ong Nam (Literal translation = Grandfather Number Five), my dad’s uncle (my grandfather’s older brother) who died at 6am. This man was the fourth of sixteen children, creating a lengthy branch of Phams in the family tree. I met him ten years ago, but it’s only a split second memory. My only tactile memory of his face came from the immediate photo sitting in front of his casket. His casket was covered in ornate flowers and brightly colored neon lights behind burning incense. Buddhist monks chanted indiscernible Vietnamese prayers to Ong Nam. Unfamiliar with the process, I followed others and paid my respects with the traditional prayers and bows to Ong Nam.

Beyond my scope of understanding, the process of death and bereavement is long and complicated in the Vietnamese culture. Death is a not a passage into nothingness, but simply an extension of life. It lets the family gradually grief for their love ones with grace and dignity while remaining connected to the dead. Quite often the casket containing the dead conspicuously sits in the home of an immediate family member for up to week as visitors come to say bye and to share special moments with the family or the dead. The process of mourning can take up to two to three years with annual community and extended family gatherings. Traditionally immediate family members are restricted from life changing choices like marriage and wearing bright colors within the next two years.

Annual memorial services continue with the immediate family until that generation experiences its own death. Throughout my life I have experienced hundreds of these memorial services, yet I seldom knew the name of the dead as we offered our food to their spirits. For me, it became an occasion to see extended family. It was more of a celebration of life and an opportunity to reminisce about the joys of the past.

So bye Ong Nam. I will see you next year in my prayers.