E. F. Wen

And how will you recognize me?

“You can say I’ve been sculpted by time, and the wind, and the sun, and the stress, and yummy food, and happy memories, and all the encounters with light and darkness.”

“In Memoriam Obituary published in Silver Spring Voice, Feb. 26, 2010 “

In 1982, EF wrote this entry in her diary:

here lies little old me
grateful mother
artist
weaver of dreams
tai chi player
teacher & friend to my children
student & devotee of bhagwan
follower of the Tao
wife & lover & room-mate of eddie
lover of mountains & the sea
& flowering trees & singing brooks
meditation
believer of music & dance & colors
humble student of life
at my ripe old age of 101
may my soul
be at peace & set free
to continue my journey homeward.

A lovely song

We think a lot about how loss affects those left behind. It’s harder to imagine your journey, but this song is a lovely expression of how I feel it must be.

When You Walk On
by Eliza Gilkyson

There’s a long and winding river
From the darkness to the dawn
It will carry and deliver you
When you walk on

No one here can say for certain
What lies in the great beyond
You’ll pass through that parted curtain
When you walk on

You may grasp at the illusion
The confusion of your mind
But soon you will remember
To surrender one more time

You may fade out the doorway
Fly away above the throne
Those who stay carry your story
A little glory lingers on

Though the world you leave behind you
Will become a distant song
Every soul you loved will find you
When you walk on

When you walk on

August 26th

In honor of E.F. & Eddie’s anniversary, a picture for you:

Entry from E.F.’s Diary, December 6th, 1982

In a perverted way, i owe gratitude to all those who’ve done me wrong. You see, if everyone i meet loves me & accepts me & only gives me good vibes & kindness, then i would not know pain or betrayal or suffering & the happiness that i then would know could only be so deep & so rich. with suffering & pain, the happiness that comes out of it is like a true rainbow because of its full range of emotions. suffering is a color, too, & all great artists have needed it & used it & finally transformed it into a quality, an attitude or atmosphere that honors & lives in the work itself. this is true alchemy. and more and more, i see that my life is a gift to me from the universe, our creator. gratefully, thankfully & happily, i accept this gift with all my being & from this awareness, i have to live my life with joy and celebration and with the remembrance that everything that “belongs” to me in my life comes from the universe & will go back to the universe. for now & as long as i want to be & need to be, i am an embodied soul given the gift of life on earth to give & receive in creative, peaceful & constructive ways, to attain harmony within myself to sing my song in harmony with others & above all, to witness & remember myself in any company or context. i trust & pray that i will with courage & honor to overcome any obstacle or danger that stands in my way of truth & beauty.

Mother’s Day email from E.F. to family, 2008

My fabulous family,

    Thank you all for honoring me on this day.  Simon, I loved the message you left on the machine.  It was good to hear your strong voice, and it made me feel that the day now was complete and perfect.

    Bop spoiled me with this poem which he printed in such a way that at first, he was showing me an article in a magazine. . . it was so slick, and the photo and poem reflected each other.  As if that weren’t enough, he took me and the Jee and Bebs to Yosaku for a memorable lunch.  When I called to see if they were open for lunch, the guy who answered the phone recognized my voice and he said, “Oh, I know you. You like uni and ika . . .” He is a young Thai guy who used to be a waiter but is now the manager!  When he showed me in, he instructed the chef to break open a new box of uni so that it would be fresh, and sweet and fresh it was!!! I had 2 orders of it plus ika plus tempura shrimp and veggies.

    Jee also spoiled me with an electric tooth brush and some whitening tooth paste, on top of some organic chocolate bars and a sweater and a candle from Acorn Hill.  I told her not to spend money on me  . . . Bop gave a check to Jee for mother’s day to enjoy a few treats she deserves.

    The world is suffering, so even when I am being pampered by good food, good company and good friends, I feel a lot of sadness and sympathy for the sorrow that humanity is enduring.  Not only did Burma just suffer a vast tragedy, but today in Sichuan, an earthquake has killed over 8,500 people and 900 students were found dead under the school buildings.  So, prayers go out to them, and to the tragedies here in the U.S. too, and to Iraq and Pakistan ,etc. etc.

    Seeing Tree and Justin and the Erry did my heart such good.  All three looked absolutely healthy and stunning, and the new screen showed such clarity that bebs was looking at them with new curiosity.

    I thank each and every one of you for filling my life with purpose and encouragement and pride.  Deep within me, I feel many civilizations working through me, so I have renewed interest in history and in philosophy, and in world culture and in the arts. . . we’re all somehow connected and related but also divided by ignorance, by prejudice and by arrogance, but we can be united by compassion and in peace.

    In praise of world peace and tolerance and compassion, and celebrating diversity, truth and integrity, I send you all love and gratitude.  Love you!

On E.F.’s birthday, 2011

An entry from her diary on December 1,1982

many selves have i. many faces have i. i play my roles, forgetting often, if not all the time, the person behind the actress. So convincing at playing these roles that i fool myself, except during times of communion with the divine. then & only then, do i feel at home again with my eternal self.

Memories…

I only got to know E.F. for 5 years before she passed, but I treasure the memories I do have of her.

Before I even met her, I knew some things about E.F. She loved good food, she had a lot of love for other people, and she loved for other people to enjoy good food.

The first time I met Eddie, he had driven over to CMU to bring Tria home for the winter break and had brought a very large plate of home-made snacks that E.F. made for all of us to eat while Eddie rested. Though we all ate, there was enough left to feed a family of five.

I loved all of the food she made, and had many chances to observe her process. There was care put in to each step and she would only use the freshest ingredients. She was able to whip up the most complicated dishes without a second thought, but when I offered to help, E.F. was patient and was always able to explain each step without me having to ask for clarification.

E.F. had a quick wit and could talk to anybody. Whenever we went together to the bank, the grocery store or anywhere else, she always knew exactly what to say to engage whoever she was interacting with. I remember we once went to the post office and were waiting in line to be served. When we finally got to the counter, the person helping us looked like she was having a bad day. Somehow, E.F. had the clairvoyance to start a conversation with her about TV chef Paula Deen and the woman perked up immediately. E.F was able to engage anybody and wake them from their routine. And with so much love for strangers outside of her home, one can imagine how much love she gave to her family and friends.

Tria had once described her house to me before I ever visited, and for the most part, I could imagine the layout, but the character of the home was something I could only have known by experiencing it first-hand. The color, inside and out, was unlike anything I had seen before in a house. I was accustomed to stark, modern and shiny, but 704 was warm, friendly and welcoming. Art in every corner of the house, I learned that E.F. was talented artist who put love and care into everything she touched, and she had groomed her daughters to be the same way.

When I first met E.F., she welcomed me into her house with open arms and warm food. And that’s how it was ever since. Though she was sick the entire time I had known her, I couldn’t tell for a while, because her energy was so strong.

She gave all of her energy and love to other people and never made a fuss about it.

I was blessed to be considered part of E.F’s family.

Memories

Today is the 1 year anniversary of the passing of our dear E.F./Mama. To feel her presence again, our immediate family has been exchanging email memories. We know that there are friends and loved ones reading who miss her as well, so we would like to share some of our memories with you. And if you feel moved to, in turn, share your memories with us, please feel welcome to do so in the comments.

Here is the first one Baba wrote:

Folding and Braiding

When mama first came to visit me at Antioch (I think it was in the fall of ’69), I got hold of a “campus taxi” (someone’s private car that does a side business of going to the Dayton airport), went up to the arrivals section, and there she was, with a backpack of art supplies and dressed very hippy-ish. I was living in a basement apartment off-campus at that time with Luke and Viki Leuba. She was both amused and aghast at my lifestyle, especially the thick, green curtains that I used for bedspreads and the massive amount of pork hocks I cooked on the stove and that Luke and I polished off, along with our homebrew beer. Mama, at that time, was very much macrobiotic, working at the Kushi house in Boston, cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the little ones–as well as going to graduate school. But, she was a good sport and just ate what she was comfortable with.

During the days, I would go to class and she would paint (she brought a set of oil paints with her!). One of her paintings was of the rug in my room with a birch walking stick and an evelope. I can’t seem to find that painting anymore. Then, after class, we would go for walks, around the village/town or in the glen (Glen Helen, you can Google images of Glen Helen, Ohio)–a 1,000 acre nature preserve that’s part of Antioch. As we sat on top of a gorge looking at all greenery, mama started to fidget with her hair that was being blown by the wind and asked me to braid it. I was nonplussed because I had never braided hair before. She was incredulous that I didn’t know how to braid and tried to teach me, but I didn’t do such a good job and was slow (sort of like how I was changing diapers for the new babies). So, she lost some patience and re-did the braid herself. But, I did remember her instructions from then on and it came into good use with all our daughters, though I never did get the hang of doing a good tight braid.

One evening, we had to do our laundry and we took a basket of laundry to the local laundromat. We sat outside on the curb as we waited and mama, impulsively took off a silver bracelet that she was wearing and said,”I’m tired of it.” Then she proceeded to throw it away into the street. I was in shock, as I’ve never seen anyone do anything remotely like that. But, that was mama in those days, a soul who lived totally in the now and was utterly true to her feelings of the moment. If I had thought about it a little deeper, I would have thanked God for her impetuousness because otherwise how else would she have decided to take a chance with me? In the load of laundry that dried were a couple of bedsheets (no, not the curtains), we discussed how we could fold the sheets and each took one end and stood away from each other, then we agreed on which end to fold first, until finally, we walked towards each other again to make the ends meet and the sheet became a compact little bundle. That was a magical moment for us because I think we both saw that together we can do things that each would find hard to do alone and we had enjoyed the teamwork. From that day on, mama and I always kept our ritual of folding sheets and, I think, we both would think back to that evening in Yellow Springs each time we folded together. Even towards the end of December last year, mama and I folded sheets one last time and we reminded each other of that first time we performed the task.

Birds by Neil Young

Lover, there will be another one
Who’ll hover over you beneath the sun
Tomorrow see the things that never come
Today

When you see me
Fly away without you
Shadow on the things you know
Feathers fall around you
And show you the way to go
It’s over, it’s over.

Nestled in your wings my little one
This special morning brings another sun
Tomorrow see the things that never come
Today

When you see me
Fly away without you
Shadow on the things you know
Feathers fall around you
And show you the way to go
It’s over, it’s over.

Hunan Chicken Recipe

This is one of my most treasured emails from Mama, because it always makes me laugh. During summer school, I was living with Justin and our new housemate Bosco (who Mama had never met). I wanted to make her delicious Hunan Chicken, so I called her to ask for the recipe. I guess we got into an argument, so she decided to send the recipe to Justin instead:

Hey, Justin,

Bosco’s housemate, you know what’s her name, wanted this recipe, and since she called me “annoying”, I think I will annoy her some more by e-mailing to you this recipe, and she has to pay you $5 for it.

Here it is:

First, you have to buy free-range chicken, and ask the butcher to cut a whole chicken into 20 pieces or so. ( I usually get Eberly chicken).

Ingredients:

organic chicken, cut into small pieces
ginger root
scallion
one large green pepper, or two small ones
3 -5 tomatoes
salt, pepper, cooking wine
olive oil

In a stainless steel pot, cover the entire bottom with olive oil ( about 3 -5 tbs) , and slice some fresh ginger root into it. When the ginger is
golden, Stir fry chicken until the outside is slightly golden, and add
green pepper which has been cut into small sections, continue to stir-fry until pepper is soft. Add the cooking wine ( two capfuls of rice wine or sherry) and finally add the diced tomatoes, salt ( 1 tsp.) and simmer for 15 min. You can check to make sure nothing is getting stuck on the bottom. The entire cooking time should be between 45-55 minutes, but it depends on how large or small the pieces of chicken. Needless to say, the dark meat takes longer than the white meat. so if you want, separate the breast meat from everything, and add that last when you’re stir-frying.

You will know when it’s done, because the kitchen is smelling really good by then. Make sure you sprinkle lots of white pepper on top with some chopped scallion when serving.

Bon appetite!

p.s. you might as well have Bosco eat with you, and have him contribute fruit or ice cream.

I love this email because it shows her sense of humor, her cooking skills, and her care for others — even though she had never met Bosco she was always calling to make sure that Justin and I included him for meals and were good housemates. If you haven’t before, try this recipe, and in the spirit of E.F., share it with someone who doesn’t expect to be invited to dinner!

But p.s: as with all our family recipes, we don’t really measure, we just go by feeling, so take those measurements with a grain of salt, and season to taste.

E.F.’s Birthday

May 7th will forever be E.F.’s birthday to us. A day when she asked for no presents, just simply for us to clean up a little and be nice to her. She would also have specific food cravings — scallops, live steamed fish, calamari or prosciutto…

So on this day, think of E.F. and of how joyously and generously she lived life. Eat something delicious, take care of your living environment, and give of your love. And if you miss her, here are some of her words on May 7th, 1997:

May 7, 1997

So, I turned 51 today. It is a blessing to be 51 for me, because it’s taken me a whole year to accept and to get used to the idea of being 50. Now that I’ve lived with the idea of being 50 for a whole year now, I’m beginning to celebrate my age, because I can’t pretend to be “not ready” for the big occasion. I guess I’m finally feeling deserving to be the 50 years old that I am, or was. See, maybe for other people who turned 50 last year, it might be anti-climactic this year, but for me, I’m relieved that the pressure of turning 50 is off, and I don’t need to find the significance anymore. Instead, I can say that I have survived being 50.

Drinking that cup of tea first thing in the morning has become a ritual. It grounds me, gives me a good dose of caffeine, and I think the tea likes me as much as I like it. Still, I am in search of more of that mountain tea that Wang-pi has been sending me. So far, nothing compares with that most refreshing and fragrant mountain green tea. Ah, sweet green tea, pure and simple, clear and true. Wang-Pi, are you listening?

On my way to the dentist, I have my Earl gray tea next to me. I have my stories in my head. I have my children in my heart. I have my hands on the wheel, and I drive carefully, but I’m so annoyed with the road repair, and I become worried that I may be late. The peridontist, Dawn, is a gentle, pretty young lady in her twenties. She is especially patient and competent. It’s worth driving all the way to Olney for the kind of care she provides. I felt bad that we went over-time a bit, and her boyfriend had to wait for her.

Last week, I saw a bird-bath that liked. I thought about it all week, and today, I bought it for my birthday. It looked really at home in our garden, much to my joy. I also bought two purple petunias. When I went back to my car, I decided to go back into the store, buy another bird bath, for Jacki.

When I came home, I tried to paint, but I was on the phone a lot. I called Papa and Mama, and they called back after the Liaos left. Eddie’s mom called to wish me happy birthday.

Paula called from the hospital with a tube still in her throat, to wish me happy birthday. How sad and grateful I was to hear from her. The news wasn’t what I had wanted to hear. She has complications now from the surgery, and the tumors are growing back, and she is experiencing kidney failure. If I had more money, I would fly to Houston to see her.

Ruth called. We’re still very close, even though we hardly ever see each other. I feel that we can talk about anything. She is taking off 6 months to get her home more organized. Good for her.

Tina called to wish me happy birthday when I was out. Ah-Gia called and left a birthday message as well. Nessa called just as I walked in from Harlow’s where Lin cut my hair. He told me to grow out my bangs and part my hair on the side. He was very helpful and very friendly. The receptionist was a bit aloof, but that is who she is. Nessa and I had a lovely conversation, except I could hear the sleep-deprivation in her voice. Bibi called and left a nice happy birthday message. Ying-Hwa called to tell me she sent off the essay to me today to be corrected. Chi-Chi thanked me profusely on my birthday. I don’t know if I deserve her gratitude, but I do care about her happiness.

I almost went to school with Sandi Chamberlin for a faculty and class parents meeting, but at the last minute I decided to stay home, so I could eat my dinner without wolfing it down, and a few minutes later, Simon called to wish me happy birthday. We had a long conversation. How surprising and sweet that he remembered! He has reserved a ticket to N.Y on the 25th of June.

Meesha called while I was talking to Simon. The poor baby left a message and sounded so tired and so overwhelmed. I have to send her encouragement and hope and good energy. I am sending her a prayer of well-being. May her Guardian Angel be not far away, and may God’s compassion and love see her through these hard times of final exams and final projects. Thank you, God.

Dinner was good and a bit oily, just the way I wanted it. Poached fish, two kinds – scrod and skate. The watercress was good, too. And I had a few noodles just in case the long noodles would stretch my life longer. Probably doing yoga and tai chi might extend my life span and my chi, but I am lacking the discipline to do it everyday. There’s always something more urgent. Much more urgent than doing yoga or tai chi, even if doing either can make me live longer. This life and death business is such a mystery. Where was I a hundred years ago? What was the state of pre-birth anyway? Was I partying and networking with other spiritual beings ? Even Papa and Mama weren’t born then. Did we know one another then, and did we know we were gonna hook up later?

Saw fragments of a program about cheetahs narrated by Holly Hunter. Good, exciting stuff. When I see the cheetahs run, a kind of adrenalin spreads inside. They are the Michael Jordans of the jungle, the Tiger Woods of determination.

E.F.’s writing: Sky and Water

In 1997, E. F. started a series of “Gratitude Letters” to acknowledge various people who had played a role in her life. Among the letters was one to the sky:

May 26, 1997

Dearest, infinite, lovely, vast, and blessed Sky Above,

You and I have been good friends now for over 50 years. In fact, we have always known each other, and loved each other.

Whenever I drive, it is not the radio who keeps me company. . . it is not the buildings or streets that hold my attention . . . But it is you, beautiful blue sky that always grabs my heart and soul. Of course, I am a careful and attentive driver, but I also happen to be a careful and attentive observer of cloud formations and their language and their moods while they float and splash against your expansive backdrop. I am actually grateful for a red light, so that I can study the scenery above and beyond.

For many years now, you have witnessed my tears of joy on many occasions when the poetry and imagery in your sky was so utterly arresting that something melted inside me almost as if I had to surrender to these majestic visions. The tears are sweet and grateful, cleansing and joyful.

Let the skeptics and scientists and meteorologists give their own explanations of who and what you are, who and what the clouds are. They will, with perfect precision and irrefutable logic, provide such terse and correct explanations of how you come into being, but I reject their stagnant definitions, however accurate. I do not wish to define you or contain you. I only wish to relate to you, to befriend you, to observe you and inhale you with the eyes of my soul, and to believe in you.

Dear sky above, you have been my constant companion, my constant source of joy. You were always there for me, even when I was a little girl in China. Your stars twinkled for me when my Grandfather told me countless stories. I was spellbound under the Ultimate Dome, night after night, as the stories were spun out of my Grandfather’s voice and heart. These stories, although forgotten on one level, are still very much alive gathering momentum on a deeper level, churning away in my soul, awaiting the right time when the yeast has been enough activated with the other “ingredients”. When that time comes, will you, dear Sky, still gaze upon me and recognize me as one who has looked up to you every day of her life, whether I was in Shanghai, Hong Kong, Evanston, Champaign-Urbana, Minneapolis, New York, Boston, Eugene, San Francisco, Taipei, Kuala Lumpur, Singapore, Seattle,Vancouver, Cheverly, Tokyo, Memphis, Silver Spring, London, Forest Row, Amsterdam, Genoa, Paris. Or back in D.C.? A thousand times, I looked up to you for guidance, for comfort, for reassurance, and a thousand times, you have rained down upon me love and compassion and inspiration. Perhaps “showering down” is a better description. You rained and shined on me over and over with your essence, your light.

Do you remember that even in a dream you appeared to me, and do you recall that when I looked up into the sky at you, I did not see clouds or stars but I saw the sea, and what a beautiful sea it was, and so miraculous that the water was stuck to the flowing ceiling even in movement, and not a drop came down. That was one dream which, upon waking up, I felt new energy course through my veins. I am never the same after this dream.

Thank you a thousand times, no, a million times, for your enduring kindness and acceptance, as you keep my hopes and dreams and visions alive and renewed each day of the year. In spite of humanity’s cruelties and ignorance through the generations, you have tolerated and witnessed and suffered our weaknesses and greed and insanity. Surely, dear Sky, it is because you are so Almighty that you have no need to look upon us with disdain. Is it because you are aware of our strivings and our good intentions to better know and love God and the Universe, and to better serve the most imperfect beings in this world, humanity, so that together we can co-create a more perfect communion between the Spiritual Beings and the Earthly Beings, with our frailties and baggage?

Dear Sky, do you recall how I was so awed that I cried at the beauty of the Sunset and Sunrise, once at the Graham’s shore house, several times in England, and a few times on my way to the children’s school? Those times are forever etched into my body, mind and soul, and those moments are among the most Blessed moments, for each time I felt rebirthed, and each time, the tears healed a wound inside. Were such tears only for me, or were they shared?

Poets and writers have tried to honor you and capture your Essence. I praise them for their worthy efforts, their metaphors. When I greet you each day, though, the words vanish, and I am again and always a simple child in wonder. . . a happy, carefree child, feeling so at home, and so pleased to know that You are always there, and that God exists through you. I see the clouds, and these clouds are like Mozart, fleeting and playful, or like Beethoven, darker, deeper, or like Rachmaninoff, a bit turbulent and restless . . . How could anybody in this world ever get bored, when there’s so much going on up there, as well as what’s going on down here. How has the word, “bored” ever found its way into any language, when you, the Sky, never close ! You are an open invitation. You don’t charge for admission. You are not an elitist. You are not a racist. You are not a sexist. You embrace all of us, equally.

Thank you for following me everywhere I go. You are forever in my life, in my eyes, in my heart. You are forever in my memories, in my dreams, and in all my tomorrows.

I wonder if I can live long enough this time to capture you into my paintings. Will you also come live in my art?

Your faithful child, “Shiao-Ren” or E.F.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

In July 2007, E.F. decided she wanted to write about the elements. The first one she tackled was water. She emailed this draft to her family, and we share it now with you. By reading it, we get a peek into her countryside childhood, and feel her gratitude and reverence for the beauty of the Earth.

Element of WATER

The mystery of water ran through my early years as an an evolving theme that still continues today.  As a little girl, I was drawn to water not only because of the sounds it would make in a stream or creek as the currents ran over rocks and seaweed, but also because I saw how present and useful it was in our daily life in our pristine tucked-away Ling Village, outside of Shanghai.   My grandfather was the local mayor, scholar and calligrapher there and my grandmother was respected and appreciated for her sewing, embroidery and knitting skills.

My grandmother washed our clothes in the clear stream, and some people washed their rice and vegetables there as well.  I remember a delectable fruit or nut that also grew out of there, which was often an appetizer for our family.  It had big green foliage, but under the leaves would be a clump of edible fruit which had a hard, black exterior with some extensions that looked like small horns.  When you cracked the hard exterior, inside was a tender, white and delicious “meat” that tasted somewhere between a chewy fruit and a sweet nut.  Also, out of that same fertile stream, rose beautiful waterlilies and lotus flowers when they were in season.  When one follows along the stream from my house for 15 minutes of walking at the pace of a child, came a bridge, a stone bridge that seemed big to me until I saw it again as an adult some 40 years later.  This bridge would link one side which was familiar to the other more exotic and less familiar side.  I would cross this bridge back and forth to go to school, and I learned to both respect and fear the crossing, because I innately sensed its function and its potential for danger.  I found that whenever I cross the bridge, I could not look at the stream on my right or left, but I had to face directly forward.  Only after I have crossed or before I crossed the bridge did I dare to look at the water.  It was as if I needed to focus ahead while I was walking on the bridge.

My childhood was magical and unique in that I had little presented to my soul that was not natural.  My eyes really never laid on anything that was synthetic. Even before any formal education began in school, I was formed and educated by my encounters with the elements, as presented to me by Nature around me, and by my devoted grandparents and relatives who raised me, nurtured me and “watered” me from a sprouting seedling to a young plant, before I would be transplanted to new soil in America.

I would say that from the earliest days, water was a phenomenon, and a teacher to me. . . Whenever it rained, I felt invigorated and revitalized in my soul, as if a part of me was being re-connected to a vast part of me that had been forgotten or asleep.  Oh, how I still remember the sweetness in the air after the rain when my nose and my lungs felt a clarity and joy that made me skip and jump and hop with such freedom.  My cousins and I would beg to go outside in our bare feet.   We would notice sadly some beautiful spider webs interrupted and broken from the rain, but we would also marvel at a rainbow in the sky, or notice the fresh smell from the rice fields.  Without commenting verbally to each other, we could not ignore that the trees and bushes were now glistening with new vigor.

After a good rain, I remember my cousin and some neighborhood children and I  loved to splash around by stomping in wet puddles.  We were not given toys per se, but we created our own games with the help of Nature in its seasonal abundance and our God-given imagination.  Although sunny days were aplenty and glorious,   it was the rainy days that I always found exciting and fascinating.   Fortunately, as a child, I didn’t have the responsibility to cope with the inconveniences of rain, so it was always pure entertainment for me.  I remember vividly that it was sometimes mighty and  powerful during thunder storms, and at other times, light and lyrical and playful, drizzling against my cheeks and tickling my arms.  The drama of thunder storms was not too frightening, because I was always being reassured by my grandparents, but it was just scary and exciting enough to satisfy my sense of adventure.

One unforgettable image is of my cousin I-Xing and me eagerly watching my grandmother set out big, wooden buckets to catch rain water, and later, these buckets would be brought indoors.  The pure music of rain falling onto trees and the ground making different sounds was hypnotic and soothing with the added melody of rain falling into the buckets.  Literally, for hours, I would be lost in my own fantasy world, as I tried to imagine where the rain came from and how it was made.  Just how far up was the sky, I pondered, and were there people and beings helping the rain to come down, or did the rain come from even higher than the sky. Questions and puzzles chased my curiosity, and I would be watching and listening to the rain as children now watch t.v., I imagine.  At the end of the rainstorm, my grandmother would bring inside the buckets, and from them, she would ladle out water to make soup and tea and noodles, etc.  It was not hard to deduce how useful and necessary water was.

I observed also that even when it was not raining, we had water all around us.  As children, we were sent to rice fields to harvest snails for meals, and we saw how the snails needed both water and the soil to which they would cling.  The most dramatic and amazing meeting I had with water, though, was the time I saw my own face reflected in a stream near our home.  I had never seen a mirror, so around the age of 5, when I happened to notice that an image in the
stream moved according to how I was moving, it was to become a moment of epiphany that the face in the water was the very face that my grandparents smiled at and washed and caressed daily.  The self-discovery was both happy and sobering, for it rang a bell in my being that my face belonged to me, and that I had to take care of it.   In my innocence, I accepted and acknowledged the image in the water, and I made some faces into the stream, and then ran home to tell my grandparents what I had just seen and found as I was trying to catch a dragonfly in the stream.

Another primal connection with water was having my face, body and hair washed.  Forever, I will fondly recall the sensation of being absolutely blessed and “baptized” again and again when my grandmother would wash me.  You see, there was a big bush near our house which had large pungent leaves, and when these leaves were soaked and then kneaded and massaged,  a rich aromatic lather would foam.  I had not the vocabulary for many encounters and aha moments, but this was the first “shampoo” that I ever experienced. It was not from a bottle from a supermarket, but it was from a bush near our house.   Although I have found some wonderful rosemary and lavendar shampoos that I like today by Weleda and Hauschka, still nothing compares with the home-made shampoo that my grandmother hand-picked and so lovingly and tenderly rubbed into my tingly enlivened scalp, leaving my hair smelling heavenly for hours and days after the final rinse.  In those days, I took it all for granted.  I thought those days and experiences would last until the end of my days.

I did experience water yet in another form, which was not fun.  I remember seldom being sick, but upon occasions that I was with fever, herbal medicine was brought to me to drink and it was bitter and strong-tasting. I trusted my grandparents, so I ate and drank what they brought to me, even if I did not like the taste.  I could always smell the medicine being brewed, for when it was simmering for a long time, the essence traveled throughout entire house.

Another semi-pleasant and semi-unpleasant experience with water was a boat trip from Ching-Pu, a city with hundreds of pagodas,  to Ling Village, my home.  My youngest Auntie who still lives there near the pagodas today put me on a boat to visit her, and I remember enjoying the ride on the river feeling the breeze, and seeing gentle hills behind the shore, but I also had my first experience with motion sickness, because I became too interested in watching the waves and looking deeply into its patterns.  Later, much later, when I was 18, a friend gave me some punch with alcohol, and I felt the same uneasiness and loss of equilibrium from the alcohol as I did being seasick as an eight year old.   In both cases, my body rejected and rebelled and vomited.

During my childhood in the village, there was no heat or electricity, and the winters could be quite challenging and harsh.  I remember going into a room where food was kept and how cured meats would be hung, but I also remember seeing what I later found out were called “icicles “hanging next to the salted chickens and birds and pieces of meat.  So, water was not always liquid, as I learned.

Finally, to celebrate and praise water, I recall with bliss the pure taste of rice porridge, cooked in rainwater, and offered to me in a porcelain bowl, with a porcelain spoon.  This will always be a treasure from childhood.  The still-green rice grain, just harvested from the fields, released an aroma that no bottled perfume could ever rival against.  I ate the porridge and could envision  the local farmers in the village planting and harvesting the rice.   I knew that my grandmother had cooked it with the rainwater she collected, and that the smooth, soft grains so fragrant, fresh, green with life,  and tasty in my mouth, would make me grow.  A child when happy and satisfied, cannot suppress a joyful smile in between every swallow, and this child that was me, would look around the table and see kind, good, beautiful loving faces that were also enjoying the same green rice porridge.  The simplicity of a family eating the first harvest of rice was a ritual that deeply instilled into my being gratitude and joy and thanksgiving.

Thank you, water, for all your gifts and lessons and qualities.  May we humans never take you for granted or waste your generosity.

Abstract Expressionism Paintings

A few photos…

Wedding in San Francisco, August 26th, 1972

Senior year of college

With Jacki; red sweaters red leaves.

when was this baba?

A happy mama and baba

In China, 2007

In the garden

Select Art Samples

Here are some samples of paintings from E. F.’s pre-”veil” painting days.

Select Samples from E.F.’s Email (Nov. ’07-Jan. ’08)

Being clean and pure doesn’t only mean clean hair and bathing regularly and dental-flossing and having clean clothes to wear but I think it’s using clean words and wearing truthful feelings and the heart is innocent.

10/28/07
I’ve witnessed a lot of energy and space in my life. . . and I’m seeing that as I grow older, the difference between ghetto and power is a state of mind, and that state of mind is in the very “hands” of the person who can will and shape and bless any ghetto condition into a sacred one. Using one’s hands to heal, to clean, to create, to soothe, to sweep, oh my Lord, to cup Sebastian’s cheeks . . . we can use our hands to transform anything.

10/31/07
Sometimes, I feel silly for getting myself all worked up, because if you really were to be aligned to the Creator, all the nonsense is insignificant, and then there are times when I think actually all these encounters and conflicts are in fact important, because each piece is like homework that we have to do, and if we ignore it, then we fall behind . . .

11/02/7
The Universe is ancient and forward-going and has its own momentum. Those of us with a clarity of vision can feel a power within to shape our own destiny. I am doing all I can to create order in my life, because I see chaos and disorder and filth as profanity which brings darkness into one’s consciousness. Unfortunately, I am not as strong or healthy as I once was. Well, I take pride in doing what I can.

11/07/07
I used to love talking to friends and to hear what could be born between two kindred spirits, who can share ideas, stories, anecdotes, laughter, tears, plans and dreams, but today I prefer to write.

11/15/07
A home is alive and organic and has a history of all its drama and people’s feelings. I am very “in tune” with the house, as my nose is very keen to notice smell, good and bad. So, I am not merely chasing an obsession to have an Anderson window, for my pride or vanity, but I “see” into the past, present and future of our house very deeply and clearly, and I’m telling you, it is needing a lift, a freshness, and new vigor.

11/23/09
Dear Johanna,

My daughter Meesha mentioned it was your birthday today, so on behalf of her family, I’d like to wish you a most joyful and blessed year ahead. May you enjoy good health, good friends, good food, and golden opportunities that await you and invite you to walk and explore fully your journey in this world. Although we’ve not met in person, Meesha has painted a wonderful portrait of a very special person for me in words.

May you meet and greet parts of yourself thus far undiscovered, and be amazed by your own creativity. As Meesha’s absolutely grateful and oh-so-proud mom, I trust that she is fortunate to have such a close friend as you. So, I thank you that you are in her life . . .

11/26/07
Like a bear, I’m looking forward to some good hibernation period, until it warms up. Peter Hinderberger is treating me now with some anthroposophic medicine, and I have a very colorful and happy life indoors, so don’t ever feel sorry for e.f.

11/26/07
No rush to learn how to ride the bike, until you really desire it. It’s all in your inner eagerness for that which you are after, and just envision it. If the Mommers rode her “Black beauty” around Champaign-Urbana for 4 years, ( and only falling once, cuz the tire got caught between the grass and cement), Tree can learn even more easily. Actually, I learned to ride when I was in 7th grade, and I still remember the raw skin on my knees when I fell, but you know when I got it? I started to not look on the right or left but straight ahead to the horizon, and my dan-tien felt steady and tight and in control, so my arms and legs just followed and obeyed. That was how I learned to pedal, pedal, pedal, and then I had to learn how to squeeze the handle bars, to stop.

11/29/07
Have I mentioned what a special and beautiful person your Mommy is . . . inside and outside, sideways and all around, she is as golden and as true as they come. Wait until your Uncle Keon carries you in his arms. He may just kidnap you . . . you are a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful soul, and what a gorgeous face. . .

11/29/07
Dear Arianna,

My darling daughter has a heart of gold, and she gives so freely to those she loves. Her generosity is like her art, never measured, always spontaneous, unique, creative, and continues to benefit Simon, her family and friends.

Your father in the spiritual world is no longer in his body for earthly activities, but he is very much alive and well and able, in spirit, to be connected to your life in a profound way. When you remember him by lighting a candle, or going to church, or eating some food that he used to like, you are blessing him and comforting him and nourishing him. The more his family and friends remember and celebrate him, the more invigorated he is in Heaven.

No doubt you two will be reunited someday, when you yourself have lived the full journey here in this world. When you are ready that day, perhaps 90 years from now, he will be the first to welcome you to that place he now calls home. In fact, all those who loved and cared about you in the spiritual world will be planning a “party” or a reunion gathering.

Death is a continuation of life, not only an end in the physical world, but a re-entry to “home”. where we all came from, once upon a time. My Meesha worries that her parents are getting older and more “fragile” and she is sensitive and empathic to you because of her love for her parents. She is a daddy’s girl, through and through, but I am proud of that, because it comforts and touches me to see how she puts her love into doing the most mundane things for her family, thereby elevating and spiritualizing the very act of making a sandwich or setting the table, or folding laundry, ironing her daddy’s shirts, etc. It’s the love that never dies, and speaks so eloquently through the humblest activities.

Your father is so grateful to you for the “meals” you continue to cook for him with your gestures and thoughts. I have read that our memories of those who have departed are like food that they hunger for, because they can’t eat cheese or apples without a physical body and without that desire, but their souls yearn for and hunger for another kind of food, the food of love and devotion.

The best Christmas present we can give to anybody we love, in this world or in the spiritual world, is to create a space in our hearts to celebrate our stories, our memories and connections, and to energize one another with joy. This sweetness and nectar are the food that cannot be bought in a store or ordered on line . . . (smile)

Happy Christmas to you, Arianna, and know that each time you think of your father, he is receiving your love like a plant receiving water and fertilizer. All the best to you, with a big hug, Meesha’s mom

112/1/07
All my life, I have been in search of a special condition of the soul, to be with a person who unconditionally loves and accepts and supports me. We’ve been together 36+ years now, and God will grant us more, but how we fill the hours are the contents and substance out of which give wings to our future destiny, or not . . . it’s the choices we make, in our thoughts and words and deeds, and when we offer them to each other, and share “meals” out of them, we nourish our spirit as well as our bodies.

12/7/07
Life is a blessed struggle right now . . . interesting justaposition of words, but I am balancing myself between the two states.

12/14/07
I’ve got nothin’ for ya, just my heart full of organic, pure, and holistic love, directly ordered from God and the angels.

Tue 1/01/08
…Today is the first day of 2008, and I am feeling positive that it will be a better year than the last. Of course, challenges will come, but I have more life experiences to help me “solve problems” too. I was thinking how even though we are not students in school any more, we still have “homework” and assignments which are handed in not to a biology teacher or history teacher but to the Ultimate teacher, God. . .

1/22/08
Meesh-Meesh,

…You humble me, you shock me, you touch me to the core . . . what could a Mom say to a daughter who just gives and gives and gives, not only her wealth and wisdom, but her patience and her impatience, her beauty and her time, her laughter and her tears, besides, “I love you, and I thank you forever.”? In search of health, wisdom and strength and compassion and courage and focus, your devoted Mama

1/23/08
…We all struggle with scheduling and existential as well as practical questions and solutions. It’s how we develop our soul muscles…

1/24/08
…You know parents wait a life-time for these words that often never come, but look at these words from you, they’re like emeralds and rubies just sparkling and glittering in the darkness of uncertainties, transforming and giving hope. You are, how shall I put it, my future, my legacy, my treasure seed. . .

From 三表妹 San Biao Mei

“Why is God not able to create another identical 表嫂” I asked 表哥 (Eddie) through tears. I had turned my head to look at the people walking and chatting in Parish Hall and I wished you could have been there with us physically. I felt a chilly wind sweep across my face and travel further and further down, into my heart. It seemed to I falling into the frozen ocean…

It’s been five days since I came back to New York from your farewell service. I still cannot believe it. I can’t help shedding sorrowful tears whenever I think of you. I’m still struggling to settle my mind and face reality.

The memories are still fresh. It’s been over two decades since I flew from China and arrived in the United States. As an international student, I barely spoke English at the time. You and 表哥 not only taught me English, but also the coping skills I needed to survive in this foreign land. When talking to 表嫂, I always knew that I would be given valuable guidance and advice that I could trust and utilize. Indeed, you were always standing by me, ready to lend not one, but both hands. Your analytical thoughts and appropriate suggestions had always helped me the most when dealing with life’s hardship. I’ll never forget all the great times we spent together celebrating holidays, appreciating your unique artistic creations and enjoying chatting and laughing… I’ll never forget that last talk we had a while ago when I was having a hard time dealing with my teenage daughter. Although you were suffering from short breaths and terrible coughs, you still tried to discuss the situation with me in great detail. You told me what words should be or should not be used when communicating with a teenager. Your patience and affection warmed my heart while I expressed my negative feelings…

My dearest 表嫂, you are still standing by me with a warm smile; you are and will be in my heart, forever!

当我还沉湎于昔日的回忆,
你却悄然离去。
我试着理清万缕的思绪,
却又坠入感伤的谷底。
今冬的寒风格外凛冽,
记得在天国裹紧你紫色的长衣。
安心地,歇息巴,
歇息在那淡蓝、静谧、圣洁的天际。

永远缅怀你的三表妹

You have silently left while I’m obsessing in those unforgettable memories.
I have been trying to re-arrange my thousand thoughts, but I can’t.
I have fallen into the bottom of the ocean with a broken heart.
This winter is extremely freezing,
You must tie up the ribbon on your purple robe in heaven.
Never needing to worry, just resting and dreaming.
Resting and dreaming in the light blue, silent and holy heaven.

Love and miss you, forever.

Your San Biao Mei

Mama’s Music

Music that my mom listened to/that reminds me of her. xoxo.

Messages from Friends and Family

~~~

Words cannot express what I am feeling for you, but I have to let you know now I am thinking of you all and your darling mom. Very much wish I could be there to help support you and to be able to say goodbye to your mom. I am going to ask if they will include her name at the service on Saturday at The Christian Community – apart from Cristina (I know her connection with Anne Stockton but whether she will be too frail is the question) but are there other contacts still here in the vicinity??

Since hearing the news last night from Cristina, I have found it impossible to settle to anything – I just feel so helpless, shedding many tears , but also recalling many happy memories.

With much love, support and strength.
Sonia

~~~

Thank you for keeping me informed even at this time… I am preparing to come to Silver Spring with Don today and will stay overnight at a nearby hotel so we can attend the service tomorrow…

My heart is and has been with all of you for the past 3 weeks, and I have been trying hard to send love and light to E.F.’s spirit, although I am filled with my own sorrow and yours…

Please let me know if there is anything we can do or bring…

with love,
Rose

~~~

Dearest Mommy-

E.F., in case I don’t see you in this world anymore let me tell you you are the best mother to my Meesha, so thank you for bringing up Meesha to be my princess and wonderful wife. Thank you for teaching me English, for your wisdom, for believing in our early relationship and thus making it possible. This world looses your wit, your creativity, your warmth. I promise you I will do whatever I can to support the Wen-Chang-Huegin family, I will take care of the deep wounds your illness has left in Meesha’s, Bops’, Nessa’s, Tria’s, Justin’s and my heart. I promise you I will take care of Meesha and Bops. I am very, very sad but we will all see each other sometime again and laugh and dine.

I love you Mommy,
your Simon

~~~

Words cannot express how sorry we are for your loss. We would like to be able to express our sympathy somehow. Is there a charity that your mom had or something that we can donate to in her memory? Nessa, it is so nice to be able to listen to some of your mom’s favorite music. She was an amazing and wonderfully kind spirit.

We love y’all.
Mandy, Mike and Joshua

~~~

I have felt so helpless since this morning when Meesha shared the terrible news with me. I don’t want to bother you at such a hard time, but I want you to know that I feel your mother’s loss so greatly. I have always felt that she was my second mother, even through just the few close conversations I have had with her.

If there is anything I can do for any of you or Eddie, please call me at any time. I am in New York and am on break, so am close by if you need anything at all.

I love you all and am praying for your strength and for E.F.

With all my love,
Samina

~~~

I am confounded by this news, and the sadness and loss that envelops me.

My spirited, talented, and adventurous college art buddy! A role model for me in creative and joyous mothering and homemaking. A role model who also inspired me in how she shared her talents and knowledge of Chinese language and culture, visual art, and writing through teaching and through diligent exchange with her friends.

My deep sympathy and respects to your family. It must have been so hard to let everyone know and I thank you for communicating with me.

Sending you strength and love, hugs and kisses,
BIBI

~~~

I am devastated to hear of E.F.’s passing. She never told me that she was so ill, even when I saw her at your lovely home last May and we walked together around the neighbourhood with your little grandson – no mention was made, although she was weak. I remember saying goodbye and thinking we might never see each other again, but I put the thought behind me as some false alarm on my part. I knew she had weak lungs since her bronchitis but never imagined she had an illness so serious…

E.F. was one of the most wonderful people I ever knew and we had a bond from the moment we met. I will always remember her artistic, caring, detailed, delightful nature, your home with its pastels and dried flowers, dolls and delicious foods. I remember her joy at your new refrigerator, all white and sparkling.

I hate to think of her ebbing energy and will only remember the kind, sweet energy that prevailed, I am sure, to the end. How could she have faced such an early recall from life? How brave she was not to mention it to me. How selfless a person, so gifted in love and tenderness. I know you will miss her bitterly. As I told E.F. and have always hoped, you are welcome to come and stay in my little garden house on the river with the girls. It has three small double bedrooms and overlooks a forest and the river runs right through the lawn. I will create a special garden there for my wonderful friend – E.F.’s garden – and will care and nurture it just like she nurtured our friendship. Please come and stay and be our guest. I know E.F. would love it there and would accompany you in spirit. Of course you can’t travel immediately, but consider it a real invitation whenever you regain your strength and courage, a time to recover and regain your strength.

I send you all my love and condolences. It is a terrible loss for us all.

My very best goes out too to your lovely daughters. Send them all my love.

Your friend and E.F.’s friend for eternity,
Gretel

~~~

I am so sorry for your loss. She was such a special being. She created you. I know you will forever honor her unique perspective and love for this world.

Do you need me to come down there? Is there anything I can do to help? Meesh, you are family. I will drop anything for you.

Matt

~~~

I am filled with sadness at the news of your mom’s passing. She was a wonderful and amazing woman, I have so many memories of her and am a better person for having her in my life. I’m sending you and your family strength and love during this very difficult time. Please let me know if you all need anything, I’m here.

Love and Hugs,
Megan

~~~

C’est le mail que ta maman m’a envoyée il y a 3 an et je ne l’oublierai jamais…elle t’a donné son don pour l’écriture et la créativité. Elle t’a élevé comme j’aimerai élevé mes propres enfants…It is my mum model for ever! I love her and I love you.

J’ai relu ce mail 20 fois et je le trouve toujours aussi touchant…It is so beautiful, it makes me cry..
Your yam+

Translation English:

This is the email that your mother sent to me three years ago that I will never forget. She gave you her gift for writing and creativity. She brought you up as I would like to bring up my own children.. She is my role model mother forever! I love her and I love you. I’ve reread this email 20 times and I always find it so touching. It is so beautiful it always makes me cry..

———- Forwarded message ———-
Dear Yamina,

Happy birthday to you, and don’t forget your parents for giving you “free transportation” to the Earth from the spiritual world. . . It is a big day for the parents, too.

Do you know why I say that? It’s because I’m Meesha’s proud Mama. Her birthday is April 22nd, and every year on that day, wherever she is, I light a candle of gratitude and celebration for her. She is her daddy’s little girl and my pride and joy. . .

Thank you for being such a wonderful friend to our Meesha. You seem to share much in life. May this year be a fantastic, productive and healthy and happy one for you. Life is beautiful, life is challenging, and you young people seem to be so agile and so strong and so creative in how you solve aesthetic as well as practical problems. To you, to friendship, to youth, I raise a glass in celebration of your birthday! Cheers, Meesha’s mom

~~~

just heard the sad news. give our warmest sympathies and deepest respect to Tria and her family.

We’re very thankful that we met E.F. and spend time with her, she such a warm, loving, welcoming person and will be missed by us.

Let us know if there’s anything we can do.

God bless
Hoi, Andrea, Elizabeth

~~~

I was in shock, and grief, when I opened your message. E.F. must have kept her spirit strong, the way she communicated, the things she communicated, just two weeks ago. I am truly saddened by the news. Please keep us (Rae, Debbie, Earl…) up on what you are doing going forward, and remember to take care of yourself in this kind of time.

–Leonard

~~~

When I saw the subject line on your email message, my heart stopped. Yes, words fail at a time like this and what I can give you in this moment are my words, however inadequate to my great sadness they may be.

I spent a good part of this morning rereading all the emails that E.F. and I have exchanged over the years. She called us “low maintenance friends.” I think our friendship was always one more of spirit than flesh.

So I am with you now in spirit and will be in days to come. She will be in my thoughts. I will pull the copies of her artwork from my file and look at them tonight. Her beautiful, beautiful artwork.

Let me leave you with this one line from an email. We had been exchanging thoughts about being able to see each other again. I was trying to find any conference I could held in D.C. so that I could talk my boss into letting me attend. I wondered if we’d recognize each other after so many years and she answered, “you can say I’ve been sculpted by time, and the wind, and the sun, and the stress, and yummy food, and happy memories, and all the encounters with light and darkness.”

love,
georgeanne

~~~

I am beyond belief and in deep sadness for each of you and all of us who were so blessed to have known E.F, so pure of heart and motive. I only received/read your e-mail this afternoon. I am trying to figure out if I can make down for tomorrow afternoon’s service but for sure I will be there on Saturday. It just seems so far away. I am sure that you are right now busy with friends visiting with E.F. and you. I do wish that I could be among you all but I am as always there in her spirit. more later. I am so sorry and devastated. Please let me know anything – no matter how small or large that I can do…

love -
kathy and kelsey

~~~

We are so sad to hear E.F.’s passing. Too sad to understand why. E.F. was still too young to leave. Whenever we close the eyes, we see E.F. in Eugene, young, friendly, passionate and talented. Now we know she is free as she always wants to be. We can see her spirit is smiling ,talking and flying around like fairy.

Do not cry anymore. God is cherishing her and make her peaceful.

Words fail here indeed. We talked about one Chinese believe. Within 7 days, the deceased would come back to visit all the loved ones, family and friends. We hope E.F. can also find the way to our house. We will be waiting her in our dream.

E.F. has not spending many years with us physically. But when talking about her, we always feel with emotion and a sense of love. We are really regretful not being able to visit her and you last summer. We thought we would see her this year after Wang Pih retires. Oh, this thought hurts….

Please take care yourself,
Pih and Chung-Yuan

~~~

What an extraordinary experience it was yesterday.

A thousand thanks to all of you for sharing in such a deep and meaningful way your love of E.F., the marvelous memories and reflections upon her life and yours with her — and for allowing others to share their stories too. An experience none of us will ever forget. An act of immense generosity.

The greatest comfort that everyone took away with them is seeing how E.F.’s spirit clearly lives on in all of you, and in Sebastian, and in all of us — and that she is still alive in each of us in so many ways for having lived her life so fully, so focused on family and friends, and with such a unique flare for color, compassion, and conviction for her beliefs. Lucky are we who had the great pleasure and privilege of knowing her. A lasting source of inspiration to us all, to be sure. Of course we all lament not having spent more time with her — and we all wish we could move into your home and bask in the beauty that she created for and with you as a family. I loved Rosemary’s comment about how there was so strong a sense of family that it was hard to think of you as anything but a collective unit, even knowing of each or your individual strengths and talents and beauty. That is a very special and rare gift.

Much love,

XOXO
Busy

~~~

We are very sorry at the sad news of E.F.’s passing. Sanny and I spoke at length yesterday and today trying to come to terms with her death and remembering her and our happy time together in Eugene. We will miss her.

With condolences, and all our love, to you and your family,
Phiroze and Carolyn

~~~

But she barely got to the hospital! We’re shocked and grieved at these sad news. She was such a beautiful person, giving, sharing and inspiring to all. Please accept our deepest sympathy and let us know if there is anything we can do to help.

Love,
Hwaton, Andres, Peter and Coppelia.

~~~

I remember you very well from your time in Forest Row. I know your dear wife was so happy to have such a special life partner and husband as you. My son Daniel was very fond of Tria and they used to play together.

My heart goes out to you and the girls. I will be with you in spirit.

Shiaoren, E.F. was very special to me and I think I to her even though we only met whilst you were in Forest Row. She felt like my ‘sister’ and I think we understood each other in an unspoken way.

My blessings to you all

love
Val

~~~

Thank you for taking the time to let me know about e.f.’s passing. She had been so much in my thoughts these last few days and you may know that I had phoned yesterday afternoon. I can only imagine your grief and that of your girls. I have put a short letter in the post to you today and want you to know you are all very much in my thoughts at this sad time. Sending my love and blessings to you and your family and may E.F. rest in peace.

With much love
Cristina

~~~

Thank you for keeping us in touch. Kung Wai and I send our deepest condolence to you. I’m so sorry that I didn’t know she was so ill with cancer. And yet she was always encouraging me with her beautiful and warm heart, I am so fortunate to meet her and share most meaningful things in the life. I can’t imagine how big your loss and grief is. We will pray for her tonight. We will always with E.F. and with you.

with deepest thoughts
Junko

~~~

I can’t tell you, Eddie, what a shock I received when I opened my computer this morning. What happened? I have had no news for so long, but I always welcomed her warm and loving telephone calls. Greatest sympathy to you and all. I can imagine what it means to lose such a special and angelic being such as E.F. She gave everyone around her fun and the fullness of her heart, in all our doing and sharing her own. What can have happened to her?

Love and thoughts go to you in this hard time and I will be thinking of her. What a beautiful programme you gave her as a send off which I’m sure will carry her far and give her strength.

With love to you, strength and courage.
Anne

~~~

Hi!

I would like to pass along my ex-husband’s, Tak Inagaki, sincere condolences and respects to your family. He was saddened and shocked at the news I shared with him, as he too knew E.F. from when she was at BU and we were at Columbia. Also my mother and our Misko and Katrina share in my grief.

From Tak’s email:

“Once again my condolences on E.F.’s passing. As we get older and our health is not as sturdy as our youthful times, we all become feeling more vulnerable, especially when our friends fail in their health.”

I just got over this interminable cold virus in time to get back to teaching this week. But my heart is with E.F. I am feeling her presence and her comforting around me. I’m grateful for that because I do not want to say goodbye. As when my father left us 3 yrs ago, I feel the spirit of the departed stays around for quite some time.

with love to all,
BIBI

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I am filled with sorrow at this news. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family during this difficult time. May E.F.’s spirit fill the warmth of your home and heart. Please let me know if there is anything I can do. I will be there tomorrow.

Love to all,
Megan

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I am weeping in an Internet cafe in Capetown, South Africa, reading your message… I am very sad not to have known of E.F.’s condition, and am feeling so regretful that I have not seen her more recently. I know how private she is, and appreciate that she wanted to keep things quiet, but still, still…

We left on the 27th of Dec., and do not return until the 17th of Jan., so I am not there for you, I am not there for her, and I am so sorry.

Your words mean so much to me, which is part of why I am weeping – she is such an artist, and so particular and private, that knowing that she trusted me for her final journey is a huge parting gift to me.

So Eddie dear, I am trusting that perhaps Alison and I and Crossings have done our work (with your help) so that you and E.F. are getting your needs met without my physically being there. May it be so. May it be so.

I am holding her, and you, and your daughters from oceans away.

Bill and I send you so much love,
Beth

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Regrettably, I did not spend enough time with EF. However, I can think back to a visit to the Chang household I made with Samina in January of 2006. We were welcomed to the house with hugs and a cozy wood burning oven. We spent much of the weekend sitting around the wood burning oven talking and feeding the fire. I was excited because I never had seen a wood burning oven before and because EF sat with us, asked us questions about our lives and took a genuine interest in us. She emitted such a warmth and concern for all friends of Meesha. She cooked comforting and delicious food for us and made us feel at home. She taught me how to make scallion pancakes. Every time I make them, I get to think of her. I can’t think of a more positive connection. I did not want to leave the house that weekend. I felt so loved and relaxed. I know EF took a large part in creating that environment; such as her little flourishes in the house like her painting of the kitchen cabinets. She was and continues in spirit to be the matron of a family of unique souls who truly think in different ways than the rest of the human populace of our planet. I was fortunate to spend the little time I spent with EF. Now, I am lucky enough to experience EF’s spirit through Meesha and the rest of the Chang family.

She is and will be greatly missed.
Matt

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I always thought your mother and I would grow old together as the best of friends–as sister and brother, as she would say–and I, as I can well imagine you, feel deeply shocked by her passing and the emptiness in my heart feels unbearable at times. Though we were erratic in our actual correspondence to each other, I think we both communicated in other ways and a simple “What did you eat today?” would convey the world of meaning and feeling in an instant–she spoke to me so often that way, leaving that briefest of messages on my voicemail or as a email. There is more I feel I’d like to say but I am weighted down by my sorrow and each articulation is painful, even the passing memories of the past.

Is there a charity or charities you mother believed in that I could contribute to? I’d like to send flowers for the service on Saturday–I feel particularly isolated right now and am sorry I am not physical there to commune with you–it does pain me, But I understand how much pain you all must be feeling, so I cannot compare mine with yours but I am inconsolable. If you can let me know about the flowers–can I send them to the house if they don’t make it in time for the service or would you prefer I send a donation to her favorite charity? Will your mother be cremated and where will her remains be? I’d like to know so I can one day pay my respects to her in person.

As you know, I never had the benefit of growing up knowing family–both my parents’ families were cut off from us after the Communists seized the mainland in 1949–and E.F. was the sister I never had; having just lost my father, I feel doubly orphaned now–more unnaturally so in E.F.’s case since I thought we would grow old together, as I had said.

I have so many images of your dearest mother–mostly from a long time ago–and they sustain me, as I hope all memories you have of her will for you.

Please give my love to your dad, Meesha, and Tria.
George

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I just read the sad news of your mom’s passing. Your whole family remains in my thoughts and prayers and I hope that you can find comfort in the fact that you have friends who love and support you. I have many wonderful memories of your mom and times spent together with our families. Your mom’s spirit is now free from all earthly suffering but I know that the pain of separation is heartwrenching. I can’t help but wonder if my mom will help your mom on her journey. What a happy reunion that would be!

Please be patient with yourselves as you move through the grief. I am here for anything that you need.

Love and friendship always,
Heather

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