I know Charlene, we called her 玉香. But I called her Heng.
I used to come to her parent's house back in the old day, the 70's if you will, to visit 玉梅, my foster-sister. I learned from the family how to address her as Heng instead of her normal name. She told me, it meant a lots when I called her that.
So, “Heng” it is.
I met Heng again during the first school reunion in 2008. First time we met after 33 years apart. Can you believe that?
She came over to greet me, “Hey! 華忠! Remember me?”
How could I forget that pleasant smile, that big innocent eyes?
“Heng! Khỏe không?”
She looked at me, didn't say anything until it was like centuries had passed, “Nìa còn nhớ wò!?”
If you've known Heng, you would never forget her stare. She looked right through you. And indeed, she did.
“Hey! You look sad. What happen?” She asked.
33 years seemed like just a day after that.
Lots of friends noticed how out going, positive and open Heng was. But not many aware how vulnerable, insecure, sentimental Heng used to be. Maybe, that's the curse of being a middle child? Or being one who preferred to offer instead of take?
Heng scared me. She could look straight into my eyes and tell me how “I felt”. How dare!? Not just that, during our many late night phone conversations, she told me what I felt before I even realized. My latest phone conversation with her was on Chinese New Year, 2013. She asked me 6 questions and wanted my straight answers. Each question she asked was things I've been hiding to face for years. How did she know?
I answered her truthfully. She seemed happy with my answers. Thank God!
She told me she has one question left, but she will ask next time we meet. One thing about her, she knew when to push and when to rest. Did I tell you Heng scared me?
Then, she confessed to me.
“Nìa mỉnh mỏi lần tới nhà wò chỉ hỏi thăm ché Mei, anh Chụn! Không ai thăm hỏi wò hết, nìa biết không?”
I told her, “Ai bỉu nìa trốn trong gốc nhà chi?”
She said, “Mấy năm nay, nìa tới San Jose, đâu có thăm wò đâu?”
I told her, “Lần sau tới chắc chắn sẽ gọi nìa!”, I meant that.
Heng said, “OK! we'll have dinner”
I told her, “No way! Dân quí tộc không ăn canteen food!”
My god, did she laugh.... I was ready for whatever she'd throw back at me next, but she didn't.
I offered, “Wò sẽ take nìa out for dinner, it's on me”
She said, “Wò cho nìa trả tiền dinner lần này, deal!”
I've been so looking forward to it since. Until the news...
I kept reading the email from 德聰 informed us that Heng has passed away over and over and over, hoping that after rubbing my eyes enough time, it would go away. I went back to bed telling me when I waked up, it'd be all a dream. I could still hear Heng's laugh...
People who knew her admired her for how strong she was. How pleasant, dedicated, cheerful and talented Heng was. Not many aware how vulnerable, insecure Heng felt. But, I guess, that's what made her unique. She managed to channel all those negatives into good things for others. This is what I've learned from Heng.
In a way, she made lemons that life gave her into lemonade. And knowing how everyone appreciated her, I think she had done right.
I'm ashamed to even call her sis. But I'm sure she would love I'd call her that. As she once told me, it was her wish all along.
Heng, your stories, your journey, your love for us, and you, will forever etched in our hearts, my dear Heng.
May you rest in peace, my dear sis.
--- 華忠 ---