You too, mom, read the rhymes
For love of unforgotten times 
You will chance to hear once more
The little feet along the floor 

Precious Lord, take my hand

Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I'm tired, I’m weak, I’m lone
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

When my way grows drear, precious Lord linger near
When my light is almost gone
Hear my cry, hear my call
Hold my hand lest I fall
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

When the darkness appears and the night draws near
And the day is past and gone
At the river I stand
Guide my feet, hold my hand
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I'm tired, I’m weak, I’m lone
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home


The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies: thou anoints my head with oil; my cup runs over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.


外婆,
When I when to that stage in life, I hope I can see you again,
And I hope I can play 麻将 with you again.
And when that does happen, I hope I can finally win.

Thank you for spending time with me and appreciating me, and know you made my life that much more enjoyable to live.

Looking back, I came to the realization that 外婆 and 外公 would someday pass. But I would always quickly sweep the thought away and relegate in the false comfort of feeling that they would always, always be here. 外婆's perpetual warmness, smiles, and food. 外公's quiet thoughtfulness, sharp quips, and mannered posture.

My heart is in pieces. As are yours. And I find myself struggling to tie it together again, strung together by my memories of 外婆. 

I regret not asking her more about her childhood. Her siblings. Her parents.

I never heard these stories. And I never will. What remains are my flesh from which her dishes nourished me, a red packet with a handwritten note from her which we received at our wedding, and a few dollars from when I won at 麻将 and she congratulated me. And I would trade it all just to see and talk to her again. We all would.

Coming back to Seattle every year was a given. I could always look forward to our late night games of 麻将, coupled with leftovers from dinner and a cake from Regent. Amidst the conversations and sounds would be the backdrop of 外婆 playing 麻将 with 外公, my father, and 小姨爹.

As my father cheerfully slammed his tiles against the thinly covered glass table, 小姨爹 would try to identify his tiles by touch, and 外婆would concentrate on her tiles, gently coaxing her hand to victory.

Occasionally, I would see her out of the corner of my eye, sitting at the dinner table and chipping away at a handful of sunflower seeds, quietly listening to her daughters rant about politics or salacious news of a celebrity. She would catch glimpses of her grandchildren running in and out of the kitchen, snacking on her handmade 糍粑.

She was a calm, loving presence in the midst of a full and rowdy family. And I think — I want to think — that she was happy.

I know my grief will stay. As will my memories of her.

I am glad and proud to have known 外婆.

And I will forever be grateful for the time we had together.

My dedication to 外婆 took me multiple, almost countless, attempts. Often I felt I couldn’t continue anymore. My emotions frequently betrayed me and bubbled over.

And thus, the course of the journey of writing my memories of her was devastating. Cathartic. But utterly devastating.

I spent countless hours finding the right words and phrases to not only accurately capture what I wanted to say, but to do so perfectly. Perfectly. Amid the chaos that shook our lives and turned it upside down and every which way.

The truth of the matter is that none of my memories are perfect. Perfection within madness and chaos is a foolish mission; and I was seeking to control what I could present because I couldn’t control anything else.

My photographs remain unadulterated, as are my recollections. The photos I have of her aren’t staged, but rather glimpses of our gatherings -- candid takes of 外婆 talking to my mother, taking 烧白 out of a steamer, playing 麻将. Things that now feel all but incomplete without her.

My following entries are my candid memories of my 外婆. Our 外婆.

Home.

A word ubiquitous to all but synonymous to none.

My earliest memory of 外婆 was, unsurprisingly and perfectly so, her dishes. I can clearly recall sitting at our green Formica dining table and seeing her carefully place a steaming plate of her 宫保鸡丁. As I chipped away at the plate, I could taste the warm salt, sugar, and spice that emanated from each piece. The juicy chicken and crunchy peanuts. The delectable brown sauce. Each day, she would cook from what seemed like an endless repertoire of recipes. Braised pork, 红烧 meats, eggs with the yolks still runny.

Growing up, I didn’t really quite experience Chinese cooking -- at least, not in the way most would think immigrants typically do. My parents didn’t cook much. Not because they didn’t want to. They just simply didn’t have the time. Our meals were frequently stir-fried vegetables that, now according to my husband, didn’t complement each other at all. Think carrots and onions. Or peppers and onions. Or carrots and peppers.

The few months that 外婆 and 外公 were with us that year were filled with food. Genuine, heartfelt food. It was the quintessential Chinese home cooking that took me no time to get used to and yearn for more.

I was a picky eater. The pickiest, as my mom would say. But never when it came to 外婆's cooking. She made our university housing feel like home, and so proudly Chinese. Through years of careful prepping, marinating, spicing, and love, she had created homes for us all.

The few years that I didn’t come back home was a difficult decision; and while I never once regretted my decision, I realize that it is different now. I seem to only be able to think of the time I missed that I could have spent with her.

It’s difficult to explain exactly how we feel; and this feeling of speechlessness is further exacerbated by our sorrow, anger, and devastation. For who deserved a more honorable and peaceful passing than 外婆?

Kai once told me that 外婆 was the first one in my family to make him feel truly welcomed. It must have been difficult — coming into a family that didn’t quite know how to communicate, much less show affection. My mom has made wonderful attempts, but there wasn’t always much to say or ask. I think both sides were shy. They still are.

But this wasn’t the case with 外婆. Kai said that the first time she saw him, she hugged him close and called his name. He said she felt like a familiar grandmother. I know what he means. She was a grandmother to us all.

1.
Hear our earnest prayer, O Lord
Hear our humble cry
Precious, loving, caring Lord
On whom we rely
Ever loving, ever Living God
Of whom no one can compare
All we ask is that You hear our prayers

2.
Give us strength, most Holy Lord
Strength to meet this day
Lead us by Your Holy Word
Guide us in Your way
For life is filled with winding turns
We have often lost our way
All we ask is that You lead today

3.
Give us love that's true, O Lord
Trusting as a child
Love for all we see, O Lord
Pure and undefiled
But to heal the heart and not turn away
Anyone who is in need
All we ask is teach us love indeed, yeah

4.
Take me home with You, my Lord
When my life is through
Take me home with peace, my Lord
Let me rest with You
When I've fought the fight
And I've kept the faith
And my race on earth is won
All I ask is that You say well done
Lord please let me hear You say well done

1.	
How sweet and happy seem those days of which I dream
When memory recalls them now and then
And with what rapture sweet my weary heart would beat
If I could hear my mother pray again
If I could hear my mother pray again
If I could hear her tender voice as then
So glad I’d be, it would mean so much to me
If I could hear my mother pray again

2.
Mom used to pray that I on God would rely
And always walk the shining gospel way
So trusting still God’s love, I seek that home above
Where I shall meet my mother some glad day
If I could hear my mother pray again
If I could hear her tender voice as then
So glad I’d be, it would mean so much to me
If I could hear my mother pray again

3.
Within the humble loving home her patient, smiling face
Was always spreading comfort, hope and cheer
And when mom used to sing to her merciful King
It was the songs the angels loved to hear
If I could hear my mother pray again
If I could hear her tender voice as then
So glad I’d be, it would mean so much to me
If I could hear my mother pray again

4.
Her work on earth is done, the life-crown has been won
And mom will be at rest with God above
And some glad morning mom, I know, will welcome me
To that eternal home of peace and love
If I could hear my mother pray again
If I could hear her tender voice as then
So glad I’d be, it would mean so much to me
If I could hear my mother pray again


Mom is the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street 
Mom is the smell of the best foods you remember, the best flowers you pick
Mom is the fragrance of life 

Mom is the cool hand on your brow when you are not feeling well
Mom is the warm air on a cold winters’ day
Mom is the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of a rainbow

Mom is your sky 
Mom is your roof 
Mom is your rock 

Mom is in your celebration 
Mom is in your happiness and sorrow
Mom is in your laughter and tears

Mom is the place you come from, your first home 
Mom is the light you follow with every step you take 
Mom is your comfort and satisfaction

Mom is your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy 
But nothing on Earth can separate you from mom:
Not time
Not space
Not even death 

Mom,  your love lives on
Mom,  your spirit lives on
Mom,  your prayer lives on


Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
Forgive us our sins
as we forgive those who sin against us.
Lead us not into temptation
but deliver us from evil.
For the kingdom, the power,
and the glory are yours
now and forever. 
Amen.

1.
Guide me, merciful God,
pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but You are mighty;
hold me with your powerful hand.
Bread of heaven, bread of heaven,
feed me now and evermore,
feed me now and evermore.

2.
Open now the crystal fountain,
where the healing waters flow.
Let the fire and cloudy pillar
lead me all my journey through.
Strong Deliverer, strong Deliverer,
ever be my strength and shield,
ever be my strength and shield.

3.
When I tread the road to Paradise,
bid my anxious fears subside.
Death of death, and hell's Destruction,
land me safe on side of Heaven.
Songs of praises, songs of praises
I will ever sing to you,
I will ever sing to you.


A mother of noble character who can find?
    She is worth far more than rubies.
Her husband has full confidence in her
    and lacks nothing of value.
She brings him good, not harm,
    all the days of her life.
She selects veggies and meat
    and works with eager hands.
She is like the merchant ships,
    bringing gifts and clothes from afar.
She gets up while it is still night;
    she provides food and joy for her family
She considers a field and buys it;
    out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
She sets about her work vigorously;
    her arms are strong for her tasks.
She sees that her work is profitable,
    and her lamp does not go out at night.
In her hand she holds the knitting needles,
    and grasps the crochet hook with her fingers.
She opens her arms to the poor
    and extends her kindness to the needy.
When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
    for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
She makes coverings for her bed;
    she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
Her husband is respected at the university,
    where he takes his seat among the best of scholars.
She makes colorful linen garments for her children,
    and supplies them to their friends
She is clothed with strength and dignity;
    she can laugh at the days to come everywhere.
She speaks with wisdom and love,
    and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the affairs of her household
    and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children arise and call her blessed;
    her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many women do noble things,
    but you surpass them all.”
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
    but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
Honor her for all that her hands have done,
    and let her works bring her praise at home and beyond.


The righteous perish,
  and no one takes it to heart 
The devout are taken away,
  and no one understands
The righteous are taken away
  to be spared from evil 
Those who walk uprightly
  enter into peace 
They find rest as they lie in sleep 
Mom, dearest Mom,
  return to your rest with peace
The Lord is good to you   



Let the sea beat its thin torn hands
In anguish against the shore
Let the sea shriek out its agony
Across waste sands and marshes
Let the sea still be mad
And crash in madness among the shaking rocks
For the sea is the cry of our sorrow!

千悔万悔悔不转，千诉万诉诉不完
千寻万寻寻不见，千哭万哭哭不还


悼念母亲

凯风自南， 吹彼棘心。 棘心夭夭， 慈母劬劳。
凯风自南， 吹彼棘薪。 母氏圣善， 我无令人。
爰有寒泉， 在浚之下。 子孙九人， 慈母劳苦。
睍睆黄鸟， 载好其音。 子孙九人， 莫慰母心。


OBITUARY

Shibi Xu

June 22, 1938 – January 24, 2023

Sunset Hills Memorial Park & Funeral Home

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