Let's cook Bún Thang together in the next life. Maybe it'll be me instead of you picking you up from school with popsicles. 

Sorry for being away and distant the past few years. My brothers and cousins say you still asked about me, forgot, then asked about me again in 5 minutes. 

I do miss you. I hope you rest well, and am glad Ong came to take you back with him. I'll look for you both when I cross, let's catch up on a lot then. Thanks for being supportive and thinking of me, even when I went away. Take care, Ba Noi! I love you.

So many trips to our favorite beach, and so many cherished moments and memories each time I stopped by, including collecting sand for the altar.    At times, we were pleasantly surprised to run into Chi Tu' and family, making those moments even more special. Love always and forever...

We miss you both deeply, yet we find solace in knowing you are together in the light with God, surrounded by joy, peace, and love. We treasure every moment we shared with you, and we carry your love, your values, and your genes into the generations that follow. We will always strive to make you proud, because you live on through us, and we will forever be a part of you.

Farewell my dearest mama, 
It's very hard to say goodbye to a person that I had loved all my life who was always there... for Dad, for me and my brothers...
We had been through the family up's and down's, happy/unhappy , even moments of despair...but we were always together, we concurred the fates, sharing the laughters, the heartaches, and the successful celebrations as the family had grown.
Your strong hands became the weak ones, but you soldiered on, more than 20 years after we lost our greatest love: Dad. Holding your hands, calling you at least twice a day to remind you to take meds, cooking and caring for you had become my responsibility, but we made it good. I am so proud of you, mother, and proud to stand by you over the years.
You had led a full life and left us so many wonderful moments to cherish, but deep down I wish we could have a bit more time, dearest Má.
Still, I believe that you are now at peace, knowing that reuniting with Dad would make you happy and content. Rest well mom. Mom and dad will always live in my heart.

We reminisced. You talked. We listened. We talked. You listened. We shared memories and random thoughts. We were in the moment while Mom was on her phone. We stared at Mom. She didn’t notice. We laughed. Even on the most mundane day, we made sure to show up and be present with you because you deserved our love and more. Throughout all of our time together, you continued to age…and I noticed things secretly. I started noticing the way your feet started dragging and your slippers made quiet scratchy noises vs you picking up your feet entirely to walk. I noticed your pupils started to become more hazy. I noticed your wrinkles started deepening. With that being said, even with age tapping on your shoulder each day and reminding you of how far you’ve come, you remained “Bà.” The “Bà” that still lit up whenever we came to visit. The “Bà” who would sit a bit more upright when indulging us with her stories of her fondest memories. The “Bà” who had the same tastes as me. The “Bà” who would compliment things that looked nice and frown in disgust at things that looked ugly. The “Bà” who would be mature one second and childlike the next. The “Bà” who would poke her head out the door multiple times whenever we were leaving and not leave the door until we walked away. The “Bà” who would go to her window to see us off because she believes in being an upstanding host. The “Bà” who probably had much more to talk about, to share, to live. You will forever live on in our hearts and memories. 
Thank you for being born, giving birth to Mom, and being our maternal grandmother to Alan and me. Thank you for blessing us with the memories that will stay with us until the end of time. Thank you for blessing us with your presence and eclectic personality. Thank you for being you. Don’t worry about us too much up there, have fun catching up with Ông ngoại. Tell him all about what we’ve been up to and that we miss and love him too. 
To Bà, I love you and I miss you. (4/4)

To adult me, you became “Bà.” I’m not sure when the shift started, but if I had to guess, losing all my other grandparents made me really reflect on life and tune into what is most important. Priorities shifted yet again. Feelings shifted. Attention shifted. I then realized what was most important in life and finally settled on what my priorities were going to be moving forward. Life slowed down for a bit, for a brief second, just to allow this moment of clarity to shine through. I realized that, sure, I was taking care of you initially to help reduce the burden from Mom, but somewhere along our journey I started taking care of you because I wanted to. I started voluntarily suggesting we go visit you. I became more involved in your medications, your health, your wellbeing. You had always held me in high regards, so you listened to me well 99% of the time when it came to your medications and health especially after I graduated. For the first time in my life, you became one of my most prioritized people on my own accord. Not because you were there since I was born, not because you were Mom’s mom, but because I truly learned to love and accept you for who you were to me. I thank my lucky stars that this revelation came sooner rather than later because this revelation will allow me to celebrate your life for what it was and enjoy the positive memories we’ve made together. Alan and I started visiting you more often. We started staying over longer. We went out to eat, the three of us. We started bringing over food. Snacks. Little toys—not to play with—but to entertain ourselves in the most simplistic way. We giggled over a small Disney Happy Meal toy over the span of days. Life was good. You were hanging in there, some days better and some days worse, but you never lost that light of yours. Even when you were feeling a bit off, you had that light. That signature Bà energy. That signature Bà strength. We talked. We gossiped. We joked. We posed. We took pictures. (3/4)

To young adult me when life got more hectic, you were “Mom’s mom that we had to take care of.” Life’s priorities were rearranged and you became more of an obligation. Juggling everything as a young adult with disorganized priorities really disorients a person. We start clumsily finding our own voice, forming our own opinions (right or wrong), and our environment shapes us into the people we start to become. Despite disagreeing with some of your actions and words, I still felt obligated to take care of you. The connection we developed since I was born was still there, albeit a bit strained. You were aware of that. I think a part of you knew I did not agree with a few of your sentiments. That’s why when you couldn’t hold it in anymore late in the day, you looked at me and there was a change in the air. I felt it. I wasn’t sure what was coming, but I felt the change. You started by thanking me for taking care of you as usual, but then you said, “you are only taking care of me because you love your mom, and your mom loves me.” Silence. Barely audible breathing. In that moment, even though I did not want to admit it, there was truth to your statement. It wasn’t 100% true, but it was accurate. From that point on, I tried to make a conscious effort to override the fact you brought to light, front and center. This is probably one of the core memories I carry heavily with me, out of all the positive and fond memories we share. (2/4)

To my last  grandparent, my oldest (most senior) friend, and the sassiest person I had the pleasure of knowing, I love you and I miss you. 
I’ll be honest—we weren’t always close. We both know that. Despite that, we’ve developed quite the bond over the last couple of years. You and I would probably chuckle at that fact like two crazy old ladies if we had the time to have one more conversation. If we had time to see each other in-person one last time. I still remember the last time I saw you. Mom Facetimed Chu Uy to see you…Alan and I went over to show our faces to greet you. You usually call me “Bé” or “Na”, but on that day, you called out my name clear as day. DANA! I had never seen you so enthusiastically call out my real name. Since we couldn’t have that last conversation in-person, let’s reminisce one last time together. 
To child me, you were “grandma.” At first, you were an adult in my life whom I would visit often as Mom would take us to visit you and Ông ngoại. I would say “I love you!” but I didn’t truly understand what that meant at the time—I only wanted treats and toys. You were someone who would buckle me into the car and buy toys for. Lots of toys. Pokemon figurines. Digimon figurines. I still have them tucked away somewhere and I will never toss them since they are mementos of our adventures together. You were also someone who would plop me onto the counter and feed me snacks as I swung my short legs (they never got that much longer). 
To teenage me when life got a bit busier, you were “Mom’s mom.” You were someone we cared about, but we hadn’t spent as much time with you as when we were kids because we were confined to school and homework. You were someone we would check in on and take care of. We still visited and you always reminded us that we were welcome to eat or drink anything from your refrigerator, but not as often. You were self-sufficient and had a relatively stable routine at home, so we didn’t have to worry much. (1/4)

Thank you, Mom, for a lifetime of love, devotion, and beautiful memories—
especially our joyful times boating at Bass Lake, filled with laughter and togetherness.
Your love lives in our hearts forever.

Thank you, Mom, for a lifetime of love, sacrifice, and beautiful memories.
Your laughter, kindness, and devotion will live in our hearts forever.

Thank you, Mom, for a lifetime of beautiful memories—
full of love, laughter, and moments we will cherish forever.

My dearest Mom, my best friend, my anchor.

I love you always and forever.

I was blessed to share so much of my life’s journey with you, and I will always cherish our countless memories together. When I was in grade school, you would pick me up on your bicycle, always with a small treat waiting for me. Years later, when you became ill, I used that same bicycle to take you to doctor visits and treatments—full circle, guided by love.

Because of your illness, you were not expected to see me become a doctor, yet you did. You witnessed me thrive as a dedicated physician for over 25 years, and that remains one of my greatest blessings. After Dad passed on September 14, 2006, I was honored to walk the later chapter of your life by your side.

Now, I find peace knowing that you are finally reunited with Dad, who has been patiently waiting for you all this time and came to bring you home on the day you passed.

Mom, I love you always and forever. While my heart aches, I am comforted knowing you are exactly where you belong—by Dad’s side—at last.

Eternal peace and joy.

We deeply share the grief and sorrow. It is a great loss to our family. I always admire her dedication, through up and down. May peace be with her! Cháu Tuấn

OBITUARY

Thu Huong Thi Nguyen

May 23, 1935 – January 5, 2026

Oak Hill Funeral Home & Memorial Park

Show your support

Add a Memory

Share Obituary

Get Reminders

Services