Kính thưa người thân và bạn hữu,

Chúng tôi xin thông báo buổi lễ viếng bà Lý Ngọc Anh sẽ được cử hành vào thứ Hai, ngày 4, tháng 1, năm 2021, từ 9:00 am đến 10:30 am, tại:

Charles F. Snyder Funeral Home
3110 Lititz Pike
Lititz, PA 17543

Sau giờ thăm viếng, linh cữu của bà Lý Ngọc Anh sẽ được an táng tại:

Bareville Union Cemetery
74 Brethren Church Road
Leola, PA 17540

Xin miễn chấp điếu. Thay vì tặng hoa, xin quyên góp đến chùa:

Buddhist Association of PA
202 Cherry Street
Columbia PA 17512

Dear family and friends,

A memorial visitation for our beloved Mrs. Anh Ngọc Lý will be held on Monday, January 4, 2021, from 9:00 am to 10:30 am, at:

Charles F. Snyder Funeral Home
3110 Lititz Pike
Lititz, PA 17543

Interment will follow at:

Bareville Union Cemetery
74 Brethren Church Road
Leola, PA 17540

In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to:

Buddhist Association of PA
202 Cherry Street
Columbia PA 17512

Sunday evening I called into the ICU to get an update on my mom’s condition. Her nurse said she was still the same. I asked her to set up Blue Jeans (a video conference app) so I can see and talk to her. This time, the nurse put the camera really close to my mom’s face. To my dismay, her face and neck were like balloons. I checked yesterday’s screenshot she was not swollen that much. I showed the video to my sister and both our hearts sank. We decided immediately, it was time to pull the plug. Since it was already late and the doctors weren’t around, we decided to wait until the next day.

I didn’t talk much with my mom because I wanted to give my sister some time to talk to her. I lay down in bed, but could not sleep. I could not get her image out of my mind. I tried to read, but it was not helping. I finally went to sleep around three in the morning. I woke up around seven and felt tired. I sat down at my laptop and revised the obituary I had written, with my wife’s help in translating to Vietnamese. Around 9 am, I called in to let the nurse know that we were ready to come in to take the tubes out. She immediately got a hold of the doctor to talk to me. That wouldn’t happen if I didn’t tell her I wanted to pull the plug.

We made an arrangement to come into the ICU at noon. When we arrived at the front desk, a chaplain came down to bring us up. She took us to the waiting area and went in to get my mom’s nurse. When they came back, the nurse told us that she would take the tubes out first before we could come to see our mom. I asked her if we can see her first before she removed the tube. For our safety, she claimed that she didn’t want us in the room because the coronavirus would come out of my mom’s mouth. If that was the case, we could stand outside and watch or take a quick look outside the room before she removed the tubes. The nurse was instructed not to let us in until the tubes were off.

The medical team really wanted to pull the plug and they took every measure to make that happen. They didn’t want to take the risk of us backing out after we see our mother. I was sad and disappointed that they still treated us that way even though we were the ones that made the request to remove the tubes. I could have told her that I would not authorize to pull the plug unless we get a chance to see our mom first. We could just walk out right at that moment and let my mom continued on the ventilator, but I was too distress and too hurt to put up a fight. I didn’t want my mom to continued to suffer. My sister was in tears trying to plead with them. I told her let them take out the tubes.

When we came in, our mom was all swollen up. I held her hand and water seeped out of her skin. I apologized to her that I had kept her suffering. I asked her to forgive me and to please let go if the pain was too much to bare. I let her know that she will always be in my heart. I thanked her for all the sacrifices she had made throughout her life to raise me. I appreciated all the love and joy she had given me. I reassured her that I have become a man now and I will be able to take care of myself. She didn’t need to worry about me anymore. Tears rolled down her cheek.

My sister also talked to her and more tears came out of her closing eyes. We both stunned. Despite all the distortions and deteriorations caused by the machines, she was still beautiful. Her skin was still shiny and soft. Her hair was still smooth and silky. The wrinkles on her face showed the passing of time. She had lived a long, hard-knock life.

Five minutes later, the machine beeped continuously. The chaplain came in to informed us her heart had stopped. She passed away at 12:46 pm on December 28, 2020. Although I was able to get the last words in, I told her that our conversations will continue. I will always be her son even in our next life. Get some rest now, mommy. You deserve it.

Mrs. Anh Ngọc Lý, beloved mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, wife, sister, and daughter, passed away at 12:46 pm on December 28, 2020, at the age of 83, following a brutal battle with COVID-19. Mrs. Lý was born on June 8, 1937, in Mỹ Tho, Việt Nam. She joined her oldest daughter Hương Ngọc Nguyễn and her family in Willimantic, Connecticut on April 11, 1990 then settled in Lancaster, Pennsylvania a few months after to be close to her extended family.

Resided in Lancaster city, she had done various odd jobs, including inspecting t-shirts at a few sweatshops and picking fruits at several local farms, before joining Sauder’s Eggs, where she worked as an egg packer for over a decade before her retirement. When not working, she enjoyed cooking traditional Vietnamese cuisine at home. Her priority was making sure her children and grandchildren were well fed. She was always lavish with food. She never cut corners. She had to have the best sources and her cooking process had always been meticulous. If her lunch took five hours to make, her kids would have to eat at 3:30 pm. The stomach-growling waits were always worthwhile.

Mrs. Lý was a strong woman who held her own. Although she lived half the world apart from her late husband Tỷ Hữu Hồ who passed away on November 15, 2020, their marriage remained intact in the past three decades. Each Sunday, they called to check up on each other. She raised her second daughter Nikki Thơm Nguyễn and her youngest son Donny Trương all by herself in the U.S. while her husband lived in Việt Nam. Despite her limited English, she loved her life in America. She believed the U.S. had one of the best healthcare systems in the world.

Mrs. Lý was loved by everyone around her and those who got to know her. She was generous, compassionate, and kind. When her niece Karen Huỳnh (the daughter of her oldest sister Anh Kim Lý) was seven years old, she did something wrong. Karen was afraid that her father would spank her. Her mother was always busy with the family’s business; therefore, she couldn’t come to her to intervene. Karen ran away from home. Mrs. Lý took her niece in and took good care of her like her own daughter. Mrs. Lý never made any judgment about her niece. She let her niece stay with her for three days until her brother-in-law cooled down and forgot all about the incident. Half a century later, Karen still remembered vividly how well her aunt had fed her and treated her. Karen recalled her aunt letting her roam free in her garden and pick out any fruits she wanted to eat.

Having lived through the war in Việt Nam, Mrs. Lý had always been a fighter. She would survive anywhere on earth, including living in a foreign country like America. She had overcome many financial hardships, personal obstacles, and health issues as she aged. She fought COVID-19 until her very last breath.

Mrs. Lý is survived by her oldest daughter Hương Ngọc Nguyễn, her second daughter Nikki Thơm Nguyễn, her youngest son Donny Trương, and her daughter-in-law Hải Dung Nguyễn. She is also survived by her grandson Lộc Nguyễn, her granddaughter-in-law Jennifer Delima, her grandson Christopher Nguyễn, her granddaughter-in-law Amy Phương Ngô, her granddaughter Samantha Trần, her grandson Eric Trần, her grandson Đạo Công Trương, her grandson Đán Công Trương, her grandson Xuân Việt Trương, her grandson Vương Việt Trương, her great-granddaughter Isabella Nguyễn, her great-granddaughter Angela Nguyễn, and her great-grandson Aiden Nguyễn. Finally, she is survived by her brother Anh Văn Lý, her sister-in-law Lụa Thị Lý, her sister Anh Lý Teitler, her brother-in-law Sidney Teitler, and her extended family living in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

As her family members and dear friends, we loved her deeply. We will always remember her and will hold her in our hearts for eternity. Farewell for now, our love. May your soul rest in peace.

Bà Lý Ngọc Anh, người mẹ yêu dấu, người bà, người bà cố, người vợ, người chị, và người con, từ trần vào ngày 28, tháng 12, năm 2020 (nhằm ngày 15, tháng 11, năm Canh Tý) hưởng thọ 83 tuổi, sau một thời gian chống chọi dữ dội với bệnh dịch COVID-19. Bà Lý Ngọc Anh sinh ngày 8, tháng 6, năm 1937 tại thành phố Mỹ Tho, Việt Nam. Ngày 11, tháng 4, năm 1990, bà sang định cư tại thành phố Willimantic, tiểu bang Connecticut, Hoa Kỳ, đoàn tụ cùng gia đình con gái lớn, Nguyễn Ngọc Hương. Vài tháng sau, bà và hai con, Nguyễn Thị Thơm và Trương Công Doanh, chuyển về sinh sống gần chị em và các cháu tại thành phố Lancaster, tiểu bang Pennsylvania.

Ở Lancaster, bà đã làm qua nhiều công việc như kiểm tra chất lượng sản phẩm ở một vài xưởng may mặc và hái trái cây ở những trang trại trước khi chuyển qua hãng xưởng trứng, Sauder’s Eggs, nơi bà làm việc hơn 10 năm cho đến lúc nghỉ hưu. Ngoài công việc, bà thích nấu những món ăn truyền thống Việt Nam. Bà chú trọng việc ăn uống nên thường dành nhiều thời gian chuẩn bị và nấu nướng những món ăn ngon, bổ dưỡng cho gia đình. Với bà, món ăn ngon phải được làm ra từ nguyên liệu tươi sạch và phải được nấu đúng cách. Vì thế con cái thường phải chờ đợi khá lâu cho mỗi bữa ăn. Tuy vậy chẳng ai phàn nàn vì mọi người biết rằng mình sắp được thưởng thức những món ăn ngon miệng và chất lượng.

Bà là một người phụ nữ cứng cỏi và quyết đoán. Tuy bà sống xa chồng, ông Hồ Hữu Tỷ vừa từ trần vào ngày 15, tháng 11, năm 2020, nửa vòng trái đất, mối quan hệ vợ chồng giữa hai người vẫn giữ nguyên vẹn trong suốt 30 năm qua. Mỗi Chủ Nhật, ông bà gọi điện thoại hỏi thăm nhau. Một tay bà chăm lo và nuôi dưỡng con gái thứ nhì Nguyễn Thị Thơm và con trai út Trương Công Doanh cho đến lúc các con trưởng thành trên đất Mỹ trong lúc chồng vẫn sinh sống ở quê nhà. Mặc dù không rành ngôn ngữ bản xứ, bà vẫn yêu cuộc sống của mình ở Hoa Kỳ. Bà tin rằng đây là đất nước có hệ thống y tế đứng hàng đầu trên thế giới.

Bà Lý Ngọc Anh được thương yêu bởi những người thân bên cạnh và những ai được dịp biết đến bà. Bà là một người tốt bụng, rộng lượng, và chân thành. Cháu Huỳnh Thuý Hoa (con gái út của người chị cả Lý Kim Anh) kể lại. Lúc bảy tuổi cháu đã làm một chuyện sai trái nên sợ ba đánh đòn. Mẹ cháu vì bận rộn với công việc làm ăn nên cháu không dám tìm đến mẹ can thiệp. Cháu đã bỏ nhà ra đi. Bà Lý Ngọc Anh mang cháu về nuôi và xem cháu như con ruột. Bà không hề hỏi han hay phán xét về việc làm của cháu. Bà để cháu sống với bà ba ngày sau khi cha cháu nguôi giận và quên đi lỗi lầm của cháu. Nửa thế kỷ sau, người cháu ấy vẫn luôn nhớ rõ công ơn người dì đã lo lắng thức ăn và sự tận tình chăm sóc của dì. Cháu còn nhớ dì cho phép cháu đi chơi rong trong khu vườn muốn ăn trái cây gì thì cứ việc hái.

Đã sống qua thời chiến tranh Việt Nam nên bà Lý Ngọc Anh luôn là một người có ý chí sinh tồn mạnh mẽ. Bà có thể sống bất cứ nơi đâu, như trên mảnh đất lạ quê người ở Hoa Kỳ. Bà đã từng vượt qua nhiều khó khăn trong tài chính, những biến cố trong cuộc sống, cũng như những vấn đề trong sức khỏe ở tuổi già. Bà đã đấu tranh với bệnh dịch COVID-19 cho đến hơi thở cuối cùng.

Bà Lý Ngọc Anh ra đi để lại con gái lớn Nguyễn Ngọc Hương, con gái thứ nhì Nguyễn Thị Thơm, con trai út Trương Công Doanh, và con dâu Nguyễn Đức Hải Dung. Bà để lại cháu ngoại Lộc Nguyễn, cháu dâu Jennifer Delima, cháu ngoại Christopher Nguyễn, cháu dâu Amy Phương Ngô, cháu ngoại Samantha Trần, cháu ngoại Eric Trần, cháu nội Trương Công Đạo, cháu nội Trương Công Đán, cháu nội Trương Việt Xuân, cháu nội Trương Việt Vương, cháu chắt Isabella Nguyễn, cháu chắt Angela Nguyễn, và cháu chắt Aiden Nguyễn. Bà cũng để lại em trai Lý Văn Anh, em dâu Lý Thị Lụa, em gái Anh Lý Teitle, em rể Sidney Teitler, và bà con ở thành phố Lancaster, tiểu bang Pennsylvania.

Là những người thân trong gia đình và bạn hữu thân thiết, chúng tôi yêu quí bà sâu sắc. Chúng tôi sẽ luôn nhớ đến bà và sẽ giữ bà trong tim vĩnh viễn. Xin tạm biệt người thân yêu của chúng tôi. Mong linh hồn bà được an nghỉ trong bình yên.

I am sorry, mama. I can’t watch you, from afar, go on like this. Let’s put an end to all the suffering and torturing. I was hoping for a miracle, but there’s no such thing.

I have come to accept the reality that I will lose my dear mother on earth, but I will always have you in my heart and spirit. We will continue our conversations just like we were having through FaceTime these past few weeks. Although you were sedated, I knew you could hear me. I saw you nod your head when I talked.

I knew death was part of life and I had been prepared for the day that you would have to leave me. I was not ready to see you go this way. I couldn’t let COVID-19 take you away from me so abruptly. The doctors told me to let you go, but I was still holding on every bit of last hope. It has come to the point that nothing on this earth could help bring you back.

I had shed so many tears alone in your room thinking about you. I knew crying wouldn’t change anything, but I couldn’t help it. Writing to you and about you helped me cope with the reality at hand. I know I can always reach out to you through my thoughts and my words.

I will miss you dearly, but I know you will always be beside me like you had always been throughout my life. Please let yourself rest, mama. You had been through so much all your life. It’s time to set yourself free. I will meet you someday. Please save a place for me. I love you!

When my mom asked me to come to take care of her, I was terrified. I was about to live in the same house with three positive COVID-19 victims. The chance of me getting infected was high. When I tried to help my mom getting up out of her bed, she coughed on me and she couldn’t even put her mask on. I spent half an hour to an hour in her room each time to help her moved around.

Thanks to the masks, the face shields, the gloves, and the trash bags, I tested negative of COVID-19 over a week ago. As long as I take all the precautions, I shouldn’t have to be afraid of COVID. I didn’t know it until I lived through it. In retrospect, I could have intervene earlier. I could have done something for her. By the time I learned about my sister’s condition, it was already too late. I knew my mom already caught it and I hesitated to come until she told me to.

Although I have dodged the bullet, I wish I could be infected instead of her. If we could trade places right now, I would do it in a heartbeat. Watching her suffer is much more painful than suffering myself. Am I doing the right thing? Why don’t I pull the plug? What the fuck am I waiting for? A fucking miracle? Yes, a fucking miracle, indeed!

The doctor delivered more bad news. Her condition is getting worse. He urged us to think it over. If we pull the plug now, she will go within a couple of hours. If we keep going, she might be suffering.

My oldest sister pulled herself out of the decision-making responsibility. She doesn’t want to see her suffer, but she doesn’t want to pull the plug either. Unfortunately, we don’t have a third option.

Each minute my conscience tortures me, especially after talking to the doctor. The easier decision is to pull the plug and let her go. That’s the end of it. The harder decision is how far can we go? The doctors don’t seem to be optimistic about it. I respect their medical expertise, but I am still holding out hope if she can still hold on.

I don’t know if I am making the right decision for her. I am now living with this guilt inside me. What if we didn’t go this far? Would the outcome be the same either way? It looks like that’s where we’re heading.

Maria L. La Ganga writes for the Los Angeles Times:

Marilou, Michelle and Michael had not seen their husband and father in person for 36 days. They hadn’t held Bob’s hand or stroked his forehead. There’d been phone calls and texts and video meetings. But once he was placed on the ventilator, even his voice was silenced. In the cruel calculus of COVID-19, there was only one way they could be with him in the hospital.

If the ventilator was turned off. If he was about to die.

We’re now in similar situation and dilemma.

Năm 2020 lại cướp đi một nhạc sĩ tài hoa của làng âm nhạc Việt Nam. Nhạc sĩ Lam Phương đã ra đi vào ngày 22, tháng 12. Xin chia buồn cùng gia đình ông. Cám ơn ông đã để lại hơn 200 ca khúc đã đi vào từng con tim Việt Nam. Mong linh hồn của ông được an nghỉ trong sự bình an.