Beauty in Death

At the end of August 2024, my mother gave us quite a scare. She was intubated, and for a moment, life felt uncertain. My siblings in Texas and I dropped everything to be by her side. As soon as she heard that her baby boy, Chue, was on the road heading her way, she started to improve. By the time my family and I arrived, she had already been discharged from the hospital. My mom knew then how much her children loved her.

Thankfully, Mom was at home when we got there because I didn’t want to relive that kind of heartbreak. We had already been through so much. My father-in-law was intubated during the COVID-19 pandemic and passed away. My brother-in-law, Kung Meng, was in the same condition in Minnesota and passed just days later. Fugie’s family endured a tremendous loss during that time, and those deaths felt sudden and heavy—despite everything happening around the world.

Unlike those sudden goodbyes, my mother gave us time. Even though we knew her health was fragile, she gave us almost nine more months to prepare for her passing. After coming home from the hospital in September, her half-brothers—my uncles from Wisconsin—visited. They shared how their loved one had a similar experience: got very sick, seemed to recover, and passed shortly after. In hindsight, it was as though my mother knew. She gave us the gift of time. She let us have one more birthday with her—her 78th on May 5th—and one last Mother’s Day with her.

The morning after she passed, Lee sent me a photo of her lying peacefully in the hospital bed. It looked like she had simply said, “Peace out!” when she slipped away quietly. I was heartbroken, of course, but also deeply happy for her. I am happy for my mom.

There is beauty in death.

My mother’s passing has become a profound gift of life. On Mother’s Day, I decided to start writing again. I had already been missing my parents terribly, and since her passing, writing has helped me begin to process this grief. I've shared my reflections with my sisters, my family, and even my Facebook community. My mother has given me purpose to share my writing. Her life, her death, and her reunion with Christ have ignited something in me.

I realize now that every incomplete thing in my life—whether it’s a book I never finish, a goal I abandon, or a dream I give up on—becomes a missed opportunity for my children. When I better myself, my husband and children benefit. Everything I do reflects my parents. In our culture, this is deeply understood. I want to honor my mother. I want to honor my father. I want everyone who knew them to see the legacy they left behind: good, strong, kind, loving and successful children—raised through puab txujkev hlub, their love.

In all of this, I remember Christ.

During His time on Earth, He lived for the glory of God:

"I glorified You on earth, having accomplished the work that You gave Me to do."
— John 17:4 (ESV)

When His ministry began, He prepared His disciples for His death and commissioned them to continue the mission:

"Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you."
— Matthew 28:19–20 (ESV)

Christ had to die young. His purpose was to complete the redemptive work that would offer salvation to all:

"For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost."
— Luke 19:10 (ESV)

"But God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
— Romans 5:8 (ESV)

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life."
— John 3:16 (ESV)

In the same way that Christ’s death gave meaning to the lives of His followers, my mother’s death has given meaning to mine. It’s a lifelong journey to see it all unfold, but one thing I know for certain: life doesn’t start and end with me.

"Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom."
— Psalm 90:12 (NIV)

"Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her."
— Proverbs 31:28 (ESV)

Thank you, Mom, for showing me grace when I didn’t love you the way you deserved. Thank you for believing in me. I love you, always. Koj tug ntxhais, Ntxawm.