Despite Grandpa's difficult past, he adopted a light heartedness about life. He wore a grin on his face, repeating "USA #1" as he messed around with his grandkids. 

He took us fishing, cooked spam for us, and drove us around his neighborhood. I am thankful for the care and attention he provided when I was young, and look fondly on some of the memories we shared together.

Ong Ngoai was a man who loved the simplicities in life. He was very involved in caring for Lee and I while we were young kids. I remember him picking us up from school on the weekdays and taking us fishing on the weekends. Some of my favorite memories were those Saturday mornings when grandma would make snacks and grandpa would drive us to a local pond with my pink fishing pole and Lee's blue fishing pole. Though we rarely caught anything, we had a great time running from wasps, getting our lines caught on logs, and catching turtles on the pond shore. I had missed the quiet nights when we'd collect fireflies from the yard or just sitting in his room drawing while listening to the radio. He taught me how to appreciate the little things in life, for which I will always be grateful.

My favorite memories of Ông Nội were the times we worked in the front yard together in California. When I woke up early, I would often see him already getting ready to go outside. Ông Nội would invite me to join him, and I was always excited to help. He would let me water the grass and flowers, and he repeatedly praised me for my good work. We enjoyed those peaceful hours together before the rest of the house woke up. Another moment that I shared with Ông Nội was during the time we both lived in Texas. On the nights when I was sick and had to use a nebulizer before bed, he stayed awake and remained by my side. He kept gently telling me to rest and not worry about turning off the machine once the medicine ran out. His calm presence was comforting to me as I drifted to sleep. After he moved to California, Ông Nội would send me birthday cards in the mail with his sketches inside, which reminded me of the times when we used to sit and doodle together on notebook paper. His drawings were always more detailed than mine, but he still made an effort to compliment what I made. Through these many small but meaningful acts, I never once doubted Ông Nội's love or compassion for me. Whether it was buying me toys in my favorite color or encouraging me when I tried to speak Vietnamese, Ông Nội always found a way to make me feel seen, appreciated, and loved.

Ba ơi, con, các em và Ma nhớ Ba nhiều!  Ba đã hy sinh quá nhiều cho vợ con và gia đình.  Ba yên tâm và bình an về với chúa.  Ma và tụi con rất bình an và sẽ mãi bên Ba.

Con của Ba, Tuần

I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to Almighty God for His incredible creation, guidance, love, and unwavering protection of my dad throughout his 81 years of life. Before the Fall of Saigon, my dad proudly served as an officer in the Army of the Republic of Vietnam. Following the fall, he was captured by the North Vietnamese Communists in May 1975, beginning a difficult chapter of his life. Despite the hardships of his captivity, I was fortunate to visit him four times in various prison camps—experiences that deeply shaped my understanding of resilience and hope. In 1979, my father was transferred to Pleiku in the Central Highlands of Vietnam. By 1982, my mother and I had the rare opportunity to visit him. As we left the checkpoint, I was overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions. Descending from a hill, I saw yellow earthen mounds rising prominently along the slopes. The sight resonated deeply, reminding me of the simple graves in my home parish, where families who could not afford cement graves buried their loved ones in humble earthen mounds. My heart sank as I realized we were passing a cemetery. A wave of confusion and worry washed over me, but I tried to conceal my feelings from my mother. I turned my gaze downward, desperately praying one was not my father's grave. The communists provided no information about the fate of political prisoners, and fear gnawed at me. Finally, the dirt path inside the camp led us to a visitation tent. When my father arrived, my heart swelled with relief just to see him alive. We spent nearly an hour together; words felt inadequate, but every moment was precious. As we left, we passed the cemetery again. This time, I dared to look and counted about 30 or 40 mounds, each a silent witness to a life lost. Today, it is different. As I write these words, I find it difficult to pray or look away from the grave. I must confront the reality of burying my father's body in the ground—not as I feared back then, but still with sorrow.   ↓

Ong Noi was a man who extended his love beyond words. I looked up to him as a leader not only because of the strength and independence that he embodied but also the care and compassion that he showed. His love—quiet but profound—was demonstrated through his selfless actions. Ong Noi expressed his love through his contagious smile each time I greeted him, his generous heart in how he shared his collection of things with me, and his imparted wisdom when I came to him with my concerns. Although we were physically far apart, I still felt close to him when he would always think of me on my birthday and check in throughout the year by sending encouraging messages. Each time I visited him, our interactions were full of laughter. During one visit, as part of a family tradition, we were playing Thirteen; Ong Noi briefly joined us at the table, and because I was on a losing streak, I felt lucky when he decided to be on my team. He reassuringly said “đừng lo"; shortly after, I got my first victory of the night through his support and guidance. I remember us exchanging knowing smiles when I put down the last card and the moment when we cheered together, celebrating as a team. During another visit on Christmas of 2019, I remember he asked my sister and me to take a picture with him in front of the Christmas tree; when we showed the photo to him, he pointed at it and smiled brightly, emphasizing that he really liked it. I also smiled seeing how genuinely happy he was by us being together. Five years later, I learned that this picture had been his lock screen ever since; it touched my heart to know that he saw us every day. Even though he is no longer with us, now resting in a better place, Ong Noi is still able to make me smile when I think back on the memories that we made sharing meals, sending messages, or simply sitting together, comforted by each other’s presence. I feel blessed to have experienced all the ways in which he demonstrated his unconditional love.

OBITUARY

Thuong Van Le

May 25, 1943 – April 23, 2025

Peek Funeral Home

Show your support

Add a Memory

Share Obituary

Get Reminders

Services