100 Days of Mourning: A Chinese Tradition of Grief and Ceremony

Grandma Ma & me <333 from my scrapbook in CA.

It’s been 102 days since my Grandma Ma passed away and 111 since my Grandma Lee passed away. I’ve been thinking about them a lot this week, and my Grandpa Ma and Grandpa Lee, my Grandparents, my ancestors whom I am so deeply rooted.

I am wearing my Grandma Ma’s silk blouse that my sweet cousin Kitty Kat, who is more like my sister, had given me. I gave it a deep sniff and hug before putting it on this morning, savouring the warm morning sunshine on my back as I changed. I really feel her warm energy, beauty and strength as I wear it and type this post. I feel this way about the jade bracelet which was hers and handed down to my by my Auntie’s Nimbo Thin and Nimbo Nam back in May. Some might think me silly, it’s just a stone and blouse, they probably are thinking, but to me it is so much more.

I believe in the energy of the world all around us and everything holds a vibration of some sort. Natural materials I think really absorb the energies of their owners. Even synthetic materials I believe hold energy. I wonder to where my Grandma Ma wore this silk blouse. Perhaps she wore it on a lunch date with Grandpa Ma when they were first dating in Vietnam at their favorite French restaurant by the train station where they would meet during her business trips back in the days of the 1950s and 60s. She had such beautiful taste. I feel her love and comfort when I nap with her blanket as a throw. I believe in its rejuvenating and comforting energy.

The otherside of M. et Mde. Isnardi's field site where I work, France. 

Grandma Lee was a country girl too, here in a Vietnam.

I am reminded of my Grandma Lee everyday when I go to work in the fields with the organic veggies, hands in the soil, dirt on my shoes. While she never directly taught me gardening skills, I think she has gifted me with her green genes. And, those fond childhood memories of gallivanting in the backyard of that house on De Adalena street in Rosemead, CA with my brother as my Grandma Lee worked in her garden will never fade. Long before I would ever know it or harness it’s power, Grandma Lee gave me the seed of growing plants which would become my way of life and joy. These days, more than ever, I tightly hold on to these memories.

In Chinese tradition, the 100^th day after the death of someone marks the end of the mourning period for the family and a final prayer ceremony is performed. My cousin Kat told me that it means that Grandma Ma has completed her journey to heaven. My cousin Kitty Kat sweetly sent me a message last night saying how she missed me and that the family was having a ceremony prayer for Grandma’s 100 days. She sent me some cute videos of my cousins saying goodnight to me, and it made me smile. While I’ve been thinking of my Grandparents a lot this month, I haven’t been keeping track of days, so I’m so thankful that my cousin Kat reminded me of this.

My brother Kevin and I happy with our Ama & Aye in Rosemead, CA

It is believed that the spirit of the deceased lives on and every 7 days during the first 49 days there are prayers and chanting to help the spirit have a good reincarnation. My Mom and I went to the temple with my Uncle Kanh and Auntie Quincee a few of the weeks while I was still in CA. We chanted mantras and left food offerings at the altar of the temple for Grandma Lee. We left a picture of her there in a special room with other photos of those who had recently passed. Flowers and fruit plates decorated the room.

Grandma Lee & me <333 in California

Grandpa Lee & me <333 in California

According to the Mahayana tradition of Buddhism, which most Chinese Buddhist practice, this period of 49 days is called Antarabhava in Sanskrit or the Bardo in Tibetan. The soul is between death and re-birth. What happens during this period has an influence on possible liberation or the form of the rebirth. For a favorable rebirth, the family assists their beloved by prayer and remembrances ceremonies, which are duly preformed.

Some of these concepts are still unclear to me and there is so much to further explore. If I ever find more information I will amend my post to reflect this. Kat says that Grandma is in heaven, but perhaps heaven can mean anything to the interpreter? Perhaps it’s a pure land, as in some Buddhist branches of thought believe, or perhaps it could just mean liberation. For me, I see my Grandparents in all the beauties of nature, the mountains, rivers, the sea, the butterflies. Their spirit/soul/consciousness, is too grand to be contained into one entity. To me, they are liberated, beyond form, beyond boundaries.

Our friends Laura and Gijs came to spend the weekend with us, and we went on a lovely like in the Gorges de Daluis to Point Sublime. It was a gorgeous view. At the top I sat on a rock and just marveled at the beauty of the moment we were in, amongst good friends and surrounded by incredible beauty. The silence was inviting me to feel into my heart, and there I felt the pulse of my Grandparents and other friends whom I miss dearly. I took a moment to think of them, thank them for all of their protection and sent all my love. Some days I feel so sad knowing I can’t see them again, hug them, kiss their cheeks, hear their voices tell their stories. In some moments I cling to the idea of seeing them just one more time, hugging them once more time, painting Grandma Ma’s nails one more time, holding Grandma Lee’s hand one more time. I haven’t seen either of them in any dreams yet. I’ll be ready when they come.

**

I wrote this eulogy for Grandma Lee and had shared it on the day of her Celebration of Life at Rose Hills Memorial. I want to share it here because without my Grandma Lee’s green genes there wouldn’t exist my blog Garden Gallivanter.

My Grandma Lee next to sunflowers, in Vietnam(?).

Most remember my Grandma Lee as an independent and strong woman: both in business and the way she carried herself in the world. She could do anything. While all this is true, I remember her most for her nurturing spirit, perhaps a side of her being she did not dare let shine through often.

My name is Tiffanie Ma and I am one of Cuc Lee’s 13 grandchildren, the first wave of grandchildren you could say. I’ve had the privilege of growing up close to my Grandparents here in California. Being a farmer in southern France now, I had begun two new jobs last month. One, working on an organic vegetable and chicken farm, planting veggies, harvesting and collecting eggs; the other, starting seedlings, which, for my non-gardeners and farmers out there, are baby plants which we begin from seeds and care for before they are big enough to be sold to the farmer or home gardener.

I promise I have a point to all this, and this is still about my Grandma Lee.

One day at my seed-starting job, I was starting various seeds in the greenhouse with my friend and boss. Having seen my other trays of seeds sprout beautifully, she mentioned to me, “Tiffanie, you have green hands.” I smiled and humbly-declined the comment, noting the cultural difference that in the US we say “green thumbs instead of green hands”.

Her comment lingered as I kept working, tiny seeds in my hands, new life before me. I reflected on where I could have inherited these magical green hands and immediately thought of my Grandma Lee.

As a kid, I remember so many pieces of joyful moments with Grandma and Grandpa Lee. My brother Kevin and I were so lucky and got to spend time with them at the park at Langley Center where they played ping pong. I remember Grandma Lee patiently teaching me division at the kitchen table, as she went back and forth between the kitchen cooking up something delicious, like those amazing noodles she made me for my birthday.

I remember the backyard of the house on De Adalena street, where Grandma and Grandpa lived in the front house and we lived in the back house. I remember playing outside and noticed her working in her garden. It wasn’t anything manicured, some Vietnamese herbs and veggies I would guess, a plot of weeds to the untrained eye. I just remember a lot of greenness surrounding her, the tall grassy leaves of lemon grass, and never any chemical sprays or plastic bottles. I’m not certain, but I think Grandma Lee was an organic gardener like I am today.

While I don’t remember precisely, I have a memory of her planting all sorts of home remedies out there to better her soil and plants. Maybe fish or shrimp pieces from the kitchen were buried to enrich the earth of her garden.

I was young at the time, but I only wish now that I was able to learn more about gardening from the green wisdom and hands of my Grandma Lee. She probably had such a wealth of knowledge about organic gardening practices, her produce from the garden were always so green and lush. 

But, we shouldn’t live in regrets and what ifs, at least I choose not to live that way. Instead, I am so grateful that Grandma Lee passed down to me her gift of gardening which I discovered intuitively 7 years ago. I am quite sure of it, since I have no recollection of being taught anything specific, though this urge to grow food and nurture land sprouted from my heart and that seed must have been planted by someone.

I want to thank my Grandma Lee for all of her love and sacrifice for all of 7 her children and us grandchildren. She had to be so strong for everyone, and I am just honored that I got those glimpses of her soft spirit as I skipped around the backyard as she tended to the earth. Now I know how much of a nurturing heart it requires to grow life and Grandma Lee could grow anything.

Literally, anything. My brother Kevin reminded me of the dragon fruit (thanh long in vietnamese) which she grew and proudly showcased telling us that the tropical fruit is not native to Southern California, but she was able to grow it into fruition anyway!! Pure Magic.

These flowers here are from my garden at my parents house, nothing exotic like dragon fruit, but I picked them this morning for Grandma Lee. It is her gift of green hands which she gifted me that I was able to grow these flowers which have brought joy and peace to that piece of earth in front of my parents house and to so many who encounter them.

I will always remember Grandma Lee as a beautiful and delicate flower, with strong roots. Her name means Chrysanthemum. With every garden I grow, wherever I go, I will aspire to emulate my Grandma Lee in all her beauty and strength.

Com un ba ngoi. 

Goodbye to Grandmas

At the end of April I left France for California to spend the last few days of my Grandmothers' lives with them. And, no, that's not a typo of where I put the apostrophe, as you will soon see. I ended up staying for a month, unexpectedly. My Grandma Ma had not been eat for a few weeks and just out of the hospital for her irregularly beating heart. In short, she was declining. 

Interestingly and uncannily enough, Grandma Lee was also dying. When I had heard Grandma Ma wasn’t well, I looked for a plane ticket immediately, not knowing at the time about Grandma Lee. I followed my instincts without question and my farm bosses were so understanding, telling me to go and be with my Grandmother (they hadn't known about Grandma Lee yet either). 

The night before flying, I had a terrible dream. It was a feeling of imminent death. I called my mother at 2am France time, asking how Grandma Ma was and she said not good, and then clarified that she was talking about my Grandma Lee who was dying. My two beloved Grandma’s were in different stages of transitioning, and I was holding my breath to make it there in time.

G. Lee and my Mom in Da Nang, Vietnam.  By: G.Pa Lee

The starts somehow aligned and I think my ancestors and Grandpa Ma and Grandpa Lee had something to do with it, but I did make it in time. I had one day with Grandma Lee. She was no longer speaking and on oxygen, but I told her all I wanted to say, and was there to spend one day with her. The next morning she passed away. I was sad of course, though I think my jet-lag masked my sadness, and I had felt more tired than anything. My adrenal glands were working overtime, juggling life and death. 

I went to the nursing home each day to spend time with Grandma Ma. I stayed some nights with her and also got to spend time with my sweet cousin Vanessa and aunties Loan and Barbara when we all stayed over night with her, tending to her, monitoring her as nurses came by to take her vitals. Mostly, at least for me, I just wanted to spend every moment I could with her, knowing she would soon be gone.

Grandma Ma's last day outside in the sunshine. Arcadia, CA

Auntie Loan and Connie chatting amongst many family there for Grandma. 

Those last few days with her and all my family was the most beautiful and positive experience of death I have ever witnessed. It’s hard to capture it all in words, but there was this energy of love and deep peace that was so palpable in that room. My Grandma looked so beautiful and at one moment by her bedside I whispered to her that she was beautiful inside and outside in Vietnamese, and she smiled and humbly shook her head in decline.

She just had this grace about her as she was dying, and it was a honor to be a part of the process, to witness it all. She smiled so much of the time and her face lit up whenever she saw one of us. At one point, one of the last days of communication, she whispered in Vietnamese, “thung naow” which means “love each other,” as we all surrounded her bedside, delicately listening, since all her words were whispers. She clapped her hands gently, like she was happy for us to all be together and there with her. We couldn’t really understand or hear everything she was saying, but she looked at us all and her smile was so big, like she knew she had lived a beautiful life, like we were the reflection of a life well-lived; and she had all the love and peace in her heart to go well. Many times I tried but couldn’t hold back the tears, like many of us. I knelt on the floor on my knees holding her hand. We all took turns. 

I try to be strong for her but truthfully, it hurts so much to say goodbye. While I know there is so much more to my Grandma than her physical being, and while I try to not be attached, I am human after all and miss so much her voice, her soft skin and her scent, the little smile she had. Of course it was heartbreaking, I got to cry with my family and together we remembered her legacy of compassion and love for her family and community.

The night before her funeral we got together as a family just as we had for my Grandpa Ma in February and cooked her favorite meal, braised pork and egg in coconut juice, with a side of bamboo shoots, white rice, and of course, nuc mam (fish sauce). Grandma used to make this dish all the time. Dessert was this sticky dumpling with coconut shreds and peanuts. My Grandma used to make these foods.  After dinner we went in a circle and each said something we remembered about Grandma. When it was my turn, I froze, lost my words; It was as if someone had taken away my voice, and I couldn’t speak. I was overwhelmed and the tears came. Slowly I found my words, though that was the first time that had ever happened to me. 

My lovely Nimbo Nam cutting up the banana leaves <333. 

Toasted peanuts to be smashed and mixed with the coconut shreds. 

My Nimbo Thin making the rice flour dough <333.

Rice flour, banana leaf, coconut/peanut filling, oil. 

The coconut shred/peanut filling are molded into the flour and steamed.

My favorite part of the evening was hearing stories from my Uncles and Aunts about those days in Vietnam, a time before my own. My Uncle Mike’s stories were most striking to me. He, like me, had many pauses, holding back tears, while sometimes letting them fall, but he was brave like we all were to share his stories.

One was of when before they were going to escape Vietnam to America and my Grandpa had asked my Grandma to go through their coastal small village of Da Bac in Cam Ranh, Vietnam. This was circa 1975. My Grandparents had an herbal medicine and fishing supply business. My Uncle began by saying, “This is a story I remember of my Mom....” He was with her going house to house and while they were supposed to be collecting money from people who owed them for their herbal medicines and fishing supplies, since they often let people get what they needed without paying if they couldn’t, instead she saw how poor every family was and instead they went to the market to buy these people rice and some pork belly. They did this house after house. And when they got back to their home my Grandpa asked if they got the money and my Grandma said no. 

I love this story because even though I wasn't there, knowing her, it sounds like exactly something she would do. And it shows so much about her character and heart. Even during a time of war, when fear usually makes people suspicious and greedy, she loved her neighbors and acted with loving-kindness. 

Ma Family Têt (Chinese New Year), Da Bac, Vietnam 1973 

He shared another story of when in America, after escaping Communist Vietnam by boat circa 1977, he and Grandma were at a bus stop and they had just arrived to a new country so they were poor and on welfare; but she saw a poor person across the street of the bus stop and told my uncle to wait there and she crossed the street to give this person some money. Being poor is hard, especially with 8 kids, especially in a foreign country, but she still had such a generous heart to help her fellow human. Her humanity was grand. She knew how to love people. She always reminded me of this, and I will never forget.

There are so many stories like this, I could write a book. Actually, I am writing a book and have been for a long time now, but now is more than ever the culmination of research and family stories coming together to write the story of my Grandparents and my family’s journey from Vietnam to America. 

***

April was an intense month, to say the least. Two matriarchs of my life, gone, together at least. Perhaps they invited each other, my mother speculates. My mom said my Grandma Ma planned it out so well so that I could extend my stay in CA and spend some time with my Mom too. “Now I don’t have anyone to call Mom anymore,” she said to me after my Grandma Lee passed away, “I’m glad you’re here otherwise I’d be sad.” That was the most vulnerable expression I had ever heard from my Mom. “I’m here for you Mom,” I replied.

Being there for my parents who had just loss their parents was also another layer of emotional support I was happy to be there to fill. But, my family, being a big one, carried and shared the sadness for each other, which was another beautiful element of death and grief. It humbles you and if you're lucky, can bring your family closer together. 

Both funerals, celebrations of life, were held at Rose Hills Memorial where most of our loved ones who have passed rest in peace. My Grandmothers passed away one week apart from each other. Grandma Lee on May 1^st and then Grandma Ma on May 8^th. As a family we honored them in the best way we could and the flowers and speeches were beautiful.

Flowers from friends and family for Grandma Ma; Dad and Grandma photo.

Kev, Dad and I wearing traditional Chinese headbands. 

Flowers in honor of Grandma Lee from her burial site at Rose Hills. 

At 30, I now have no more Grandparents. I know I'm so lucky to have had 2 sets of loving Grandparents, and even more lucky to have had them until 30, except for my Grandpa Lee who passed away when I was 15. It’s still a concept I am adapting to. One chapter in my life has closed and a new one begun. I find myself missing them intensely in spurts.

I was honored to receive my Grandma Ma’s jade bangle, the one she wore everyday and I remember so well. My Nimbo Thin and Nimbo Nam said she would have wanted me to have it. It is beautiful and more importantly, it carries all the beautiful energy of my Grandma, so I feel so protected with it. My Nimbo Thin told me it’s over 40 years old; that Grandma had it since 1972.

I’m not used to wearing something so precious, and my greatest fear is breaking it by hitting my hand against something. But, I am very aware of it so try to be as careful as I can and so far so good. It was hard to get on my wrist! We had to use a plastic bag to slip it through, but it fits perfectly. I also was given her blanket, her beautiful white silk blouse, her knitted vest she always wore, which I had requested, and my sweet cousin Kat found, and a few other trinkets.

During all of this, I had the sweet opportunity to squeeze in some time to meet with my friend Madelon from yoga for tea at her lovely home. She is a gem of a person. I find her to be my spiritual friend, a wise woman and teacher of the metaphysical. We were reflecting together on this season of death in my life, of losing all 3 of my Grandparents within 3 months. She said death was an opportunity to learn. And, in her wisdom, and what I have experienced, she is so right. I’ve learned more than I can express in one blog post, and of course I haven’t even begun to speak of my amazing Grandma Lee yet, though I think I’ll share my eulogy of her here later, since she was an incredible gardener and Grandmother, of course. I wrote a eulogy for Grandma Ma too, but I think I’ve covered the gist of it here.

Lettuce in one of our fields at Isnardi's, my favorite. Puget-Theniers, France

Wild poppies share the field with our veggies.

When I left France, Spring was just beginning, and when I had first returned it was in full force. Beautiful flowers bloomed everywhere at the farm house. Not to mention all the lovely rows of salads and other veggies, which my colleague Indira had beautifully planted while I was away. She is amazing and held the fort down well while I was gone, as did Agnès and Renaud. 

Now, being back for about a month, it is definitely Summer. This week has been very hot 36 degrees celcius, which is 98.9 fahrenheit! I’ve been working just in the mornings from 6-11am or so, and it’s been wonderful. It’s just too hard to work in the heat and inefficient, since the body works slower. I love going to bed at 9 and waking up at 5, when it is quiet and feels like all the world is still asleep.

Coquelicot (poppies) make me so happy. 

Photos by: me, unless noted, or unknown.