Cau Nam was laying in bed. The house was dark and warm, and his fever slowly cooked his frail body from inside. His sweat soaked the wrinkled top sheet of the bed, but instead of cooling him down, it worsened the cycles between his many chills and fevers. The medicine he took about an hour ago was playing trick on his mind, as he revolved between dreams and reality.
As the only son in a large Vietnamese family in Nha Trang, Cau Nam was blessed and privileged.
Ong Ngoai was an old Catholic autocrat filled with traditions and disciplines; Di Hai, Di Ba and Di Bon adored their younger brother; and Cau Nam ruled my Mom and Di Bay. Cau Nam was very good looking, well educated and powerfully articulated. I remembered how my almighty mother always behaved so timidly around Cau Nam, even to this day. My Mom revered Cau Nam so much that when my older brother Anh Hung came out to look like Cau Nam, Anh Hung was an instant favorite to her. By default, we kids loved Cau Nam through the devotion of our Mom.Cau Nam loved to talk about his fishing trips with my Dad and how he was able to get my Mom to ‘allow’ my Dad to go with him. He could talk for hours about how he must help my Dad carry the coolers and fishing gears due to my Dad’s poor health, about how he must pay for gas because my Dad never had any money, and about how often that he was a better angler. Each time, Cau Nam was beaming with pride and confidence. His bright smile and the twinkle in his eyes reminded us all of the glory of being the only son in a wealthy Vietnamese family.
Speaking English better than anyone I knew, when he arrived in the US more than 30 years ago; Cau Nam was able to quickly settle his family down in the US heartland. Just as for all of our refugee parents, it was a pure struggle to raise a large family; but Cau Nam was blessed with the gifts of language, education and self confidence. His sons and daughters inherited his gifts as well, and all had done well. He was always so proud when talking about his children. He loved to be “Ong Co” due to the ordination of Father Tan; he talked about Anh Danh and Chi Da Thu with delight, even though he would never admit it; and he bragged relentlessly about Anh Quoc’s education and free spirit. Everyone loved Cau Nam for his sharp mind and quick wit. Even my father-in-law, a once powerful man in Vietnam loved Cau Nam and asked about him all the time.A slight stir threw Cau Nam into a coughing fit. It shook his fragile body and contorted it into a ball of pain. He grasped for air as though he was about to drown. The fire in his lungs burned as each successive breath was harder to draw; his throat felt like dry sandpapers rubbing against each other. His eyes watered and his vision blurred. He felt nauseated and dizzy. He was about to black out, but the coughs kept on coming. He coughed until there was no more air in his lungs to draw and collapsed onto the soaked pillow.
In the living room, Anh Quoc paused mid-sentence during our conversation, and we all listened tentatively. “He’ll be OK.” Anh Quoc said quietly lying with a heavy heart. “He is much better today. Yesterday the doctor took out more than a liter and a half of fluid from his lungs, and he can breathe better now.” Dung and I looked at each other; we both knew what it meant. Anh Quoc suddenly looked much older now from when we saw him the week before. The pony-tail was the same, but the polite smile seemed tired and worried. Couple days ago, someone stole his 18-wheeler with all his belongings inside, but it was the least of his worries now.
He rushed to help Co Lisa, who was struggling to guide Cau Nam to sit up; but Cau Nam insisted to get out of bed. Anh Quoc carried Cau Nam to the dining table. Cau Nam seemed more exhausted from this simple ordeal, but he was happy to see Dung and me there by his side. Co Lisa brought him a small bowl of soup, and Anh Quoc made tea for him. A worn out Cau Nam tried to make small talks trying still to catch his breath.
My sister Huyen (Ti) came into the room, and Cau Nam’s eyes lit up. She had been bringing him communion practically everyday lately, and receiving communion was the highlight of Cau Nam’s days. To see a man who had no fear of man and God came into peace with God was a humbling experience. Dung and I joined Ti, Cau Nam, Anh Quoc and Co Lisa in prayer at the table. Silently I asked God to have mercy on Cau Nam; I prayed that God be gracious to His faithfuls and grant Cau Nam peace; and to extend such peace to all of Cau Nam’s family. Then I asked God to give Anh Quoc and all his siblings strength and courage in the days to come. “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us”; perhaps only then do we experience hope, faith and love. Ti gently gave Cau Nam his communion; such simple and loving gesture brought tears to my eyes.
Cau Nam was cheerful and talkative after receiving communion. His coughing seemed to subside somewhat; perhaps the small dinner gave him some comfort; perhaps it was the communion that eased his soul.
We sat in the living room and visited for a while. Cau Nam seemed genuinely happy, when we parted. On the way home, Dung reminded me to bring Cau Nam some of the Holy Water that she had collected from her trip to Lourdes. I quietly kissed her hands thanking God for our lives together.
Vui
1 comment:
i love the old pic :D
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