Ephemera

Thought for the day: Stop to marvel at the ephemeral beauty of a dewdrop as it glistens on a blade of grass in the morning sun, because with every moment that passes, the sun hastens the dewdrop to its inevitable demise.

Living on

What joy! I have one of Bounthong's beautiful plants. It's still recovering from the weekend it spent out in the sun at the apartment, but I have every hope that it will survive. What's more, Koukaï told me that this plant roots easily, so I plan to start some new plants for several people who (not surprisingly) also wish that they had a little remembrance of a special woman who touched their lives.

And today, the Koukaïs are back in Brussels to pick up their lives where they left off 6 weeks ago (or 4 months ago, or a year ago, or even 18 months ago).

One week ago

One week has passed since Bounthong died (notice that I don't use euphemisms)—and finally, I have a chance to write about how the aftermath unfolded. I've back-dated the posts so they're in chronological order (thus shorter and easier to read as installments).

My anger about the plants had not lessened much when I called the apartment today. I didn't want to talk to Seuth, so I asked for Koukaï. I apologized to her for not visiting last night to help her with the clearing out and explained how upset I had been at her father. She seemed surprised, so I guess he hadn't told her what I had said—or maybe he just didn't get it. (He is a guy, after all.)

I told Koukaï that I could stop by any time today, to help her in any way I could, pick up anything she wanted to send to Goodwill, and say goodbye. Because she still wanted to go through her mother's things and many people were expected in the afternoon, she asked me to come in the evening, when we would be able to sit and talk.

When I arrived around 7 pm, Thuy was there. I asked her whether she had been too late for the plants, too, but to my surprise, she said that she had been able to take a few before Seuth started pitching. She said that she had left the plant with white flowers for me, but that she had taken two others of the same type (with red flowers, though) and some Christmas cactus. "I only wanted one of the tall plants," I said, and she replied that I could come pick one up whenever at her house. Not wanting to miss out again, I followed her home when she left.

Back at the apartment, Koukaï and I talked a bit but were often interrupted by phone calls—people checking in or wishing her a good trip home. Tioy stopped by to send a fax, so we visited with her for a while.

At some point the phone stopped ringing, people stopped coming, and we could just talk. Koukaï told me about her mother's last few days in general and her last day in great detail. She explained that she hadn't called me on Sunday or Monday (when Bounthong clearly was nearing the end) because she didn't want to ruin my birthday. She spoke of the intense connection she had shared with her mother during these last weeks, coming to accept the reality of the situation that faced them, and the difficulty in letting go when the final moments arrived. At once remembering the past and thinking to the future, she told me of her plans to go back to the temple in Laos that her mother had helped build, to continue the work that her mother had started.

I know that we will keep in touch, even if her mother is here with us no longer. If Bounthong was my second mother, then Koukaï is my first sister.

Back to the present

I had planned to go back to take one of Bounthong's plants from the living room—Seuth had said that he didn't want to keep them, and I love those plants because they remind me of Bounthong. Thuy and I both thought that they would make great souvenirs, so when we left on Sunday, we both told him that we'd be back to pick them up.

After I finished working, walked Patica, had dinner, and took a shower, I called the apartment to tell them that I'd be on my way soon. Seuth answered the phone, so I chatted with him. Knowing that he is quick to throw away things that he doesn't want to deal with, I jokingly asked, "You haven't thrown away my plant yet, have you?" Imagine my surprise when he told me that yes, in fact, he had. I pressed him on the matter, thinking he was messing with me. "No, I'm not kidding," he claimed.

I started to cry; the lump in my throat left me speechless. Even though I knew that Seuth was grieving, too, and that everyone has a different way of dealing with grief, I couldn't believe that he could have been so selfish as to throw away something I had specifically told him I wanted as a souvenir. I was so angry that I changed my plans for the evening and stayed home.

Later, I thought to myself, yes, I am being selfish, because it was all about me! My pain was about all those times I had been there for Bounthong (and for him, because he didn't understand the doctors and wouldn't ask questions, or so he wouldn't have to miss work)—from the doctor visit in April 2006 that led straight to Exeter Hospital, where I spent all day translating for nurses and doctors; to the Lahey Clinic, where Bounthong had a full hysterectomy "plus"; to later trips back to Lahey, to the oncologist, to the blood lab, to the radiologist, to the pharmacy, to wherever I could find Evian water, and more. All I could think was, I've done all this for you, and you couldn't see your way to giving me something that would make me happy and that you didn't want anyway?

I knew that Bounthong would have given him a good tongue lashing if she were there, because she understood that the sentimentality behind a well-chosen gift imparts positive energy to the object, no matter what it is—and she certainly didn't throw things away that still had a good purpose to serve!

Les funerailles de Bounthong: Sunday

This morning, the monks were brought to the apartment to lead the final ceremony of the weekend. Many people had already gathered to participate by the time I arrived, including Sharon. The Laotian women were all dressed in beautiful silk skirts, and everyone wore a colorful sash. After the prayers, all the guests ate their fill and then gathered up leftovers to take home.

By midday, most people had cleared out, but Thuy and I stayed behind to help restore the apartment to normal—vacuuming, moving furniture back into the living room and bedroom, cleaning the bathroom, and washing the floors, and trying to make the place feel like a home again. A few hours later, we finally were able to sit down with Koukaï and breathe. Little Koukaï happily went off with her cousins for a ride to the airport, and Seuth snored loudly—first from the sofa, then from the bedroom (where he plans to continue to sleep on the massage table), so when Thuy and I left, Koukaï finally had some peace and quiet to be with her thoughts—not to mention the closets that she planned to go through ad clear out before her departure on Wednesday.

Les funerailles de Bounthong: Saturday

This afternoon was the second ceremony. Before going to the funeral home, several of us family and close friends were initiated as "little monks" to help encourage Bounthong's soul on its way. Nephews Bobby and Capitol had their heads shaved in the morning and were already dressed in orange robes like the monks hen I arrived. The Koukaïs, Kong and Biona, Bay, Annie, and I dressed all in white (to signify purity) as if we were Buddhist "nuns."

Many more people attended today than last night. Cousin Annie has arrived from Seminole, Florida, after two snafus with her airline ticket (costing her more than $1,000). Cousin Scottie arrived from Toronto after driving all night, just to stay the day; he hadn't seen Bounthong in more than 30 years! Sharlyn (the hospice nurse) and Sharon (hospice home health aide) came, Paula and Joe were back, Thuy was accompanied by Abby and Sam, and Anne and Jon stopped by. The rest of the room was filled with Laotians dressed in black.

To end the ceremony, we all approached the casket to sprinkle Bounthong with perfumed holy water and place a candle and a flower on her breast. (Note to self: Find out what those were for.) Next, a convoy accompanied Bounthong to the crematory in North Hampton, where we said our final goodbyes.

Meanwhile, people continued to arrive at the apartment, filling it to overflowing.

Les funerailles de Bounthong: Friday

The first Buddhist ceremony at the funeral home was this evening. Several Laotian monks from the temple in Lowell were there, but other than immediate family, only a few other guests attended. I knew Thuy, Paula and Joe, and Jon. Of course, many more people showed up at the house to "share" with the family.

I understood that the point of the ceremony was to pray for Bounthong's soul, that it would detach from her body and depart from this world in peace. The chanting of the monks was quite calming.