Mourning With Our Mother's Friends

May 21, 2025

Thank you, Mom, for being the kind-hearted woman that you were. Your warmth and quiet strength left an imprint not only on our family but on everyone who had the privilege of knowing you.

Today, Lee and I visited Dad at the Hmong Minnesota Senior Citizen Inc. center, a place that has become like a second home to our parents over the years. We stopped first at the director’s office to talk about the changes ahead for Dad and to thank him for the incredible work the center does. The care and community they provide to our elders—especially to our own parents—is something we’re deeply grateful for.

This center has been a part of our parents’ lives for many years. Here, they’ve formed friendships and found joy in simple daily rituals: rounds of billiards, card games, hand sewing, laughter, and hours of stories shared across tables. It’s a place full of life and love.

When we found Dad, he was standing quietly by the window, maybe lost in thought. As soon as we greeted him, the other seniors began to gather around us once they realized we were our mother’s daughters. They wrapped us in their arms and their memories. They spoke of her with such affection—how deeply she is missed, how kind she was, how funny in her own gentle way.

Lee and I were overwhelmed by the outpouring of love. It was as if our mother was being honored through every embrace, every word. Mourning with her friends—those who spent countless hours with her—became a sacred moment of shared grief and connection. Even Dad, usually so reserved with his emotions, was visibly moved. He shed tears, and in that space, we all mourned together.

The director kindly invited us to stay for lunch, and I was given the honor of sitting in our mother’s usual chair. To my surprise, they served my favorite dish: fried pork belly and rice, alongside Lee's favorite dish: pho and side of zucchini soup. It felt as though Mom herself had prepared the meal. For a brief moment, it was as if she were still there, feeding and loving us through the hands of her community.

Her friends shared stories—how one of them taught her to play pool, how she was never one for gossip and preferred peaceful silence, how her presence brought kindness and calm to the group. They also spoke of Dad, expressing concern and love for him as he begins this next chapter without her.

Oh, Mother—how proud I am to be your daughter. How lucky I am to have shared your light. I miss you more than words can say, but today reminded me that your spirit lives on in every person you touched. Mourning with your friends was not only healing—it was beautiful. Thank you for creating that for us, too.