As a child growing up, I've been fortunate enough to have beautiful memories. I've had memories of a young girl traveling, transiting in Osaka, abroad a plane to California. This path was not a one-off event, but was an occurrent event. It happened every year. Mostly before Christmas. I am not a Christian. Nor am I a Buddhist. But I was a person who was fortunate. Fortunate to have a house in the California. Rowland Heights to be exact. Rowland Heights, was not my first memories in 'our house' in the States. We had our first house somewhere nearby, but as for now, I cannot remember the name of the street. All I do remember is that it had a stair case up to the mountains. I remember this, along with one of my earliest memories of 'the few people' in my life. My earliest memories cased a few. A few of those individuals. Those individuals whose characters - despite time, connection and distance apart, remains solid like a permanent mark at the back of your mind. The kinds of people that befriended by parents, despite their differences.

Today I lost someone. An individual who made that very mark at the back of my mind. As a child, I had him in each and every scene of my memories, especially those in California. I have a memory of asking someone I knew where he was, and he was still at work. I felt that my time in America, would never be in the same without him in the picture. What picture, you may ask? The picture of him with a Budweiser in his hand, and in the other, grilling the beef and chicken over the barbecue by the pool that no one ever used, during Winter. The picture of him teasing me, with the same jokes over and over again, "Nan, tell Pete, Pee the Wee Straw, Devil's Son in Law". He was there during my 'witch-phase'... Where I would be sitting in my backyard under my tree with foil covered leaves just withstanding the L.A. lights. My cooking + playground contests. And those delicious cakes he would bring over. They were just to die for. Sara Lee could just go fuck herself. It was from 'Ar' Pong. My Thai friend living his life in California. On Christmas Day, my dad and him would decide to 'surprise' us with a Clown at the doorway and towards the end of the evening, a very, very good raffles. We had cheques! But most importantly, we were together. We kept busy. We had fun. We had fun in that very living room. I remember the Christmas tree, the presents all wrapped up - like it was yesterday. The barbecue at the backyard, against the rush cold breeze, and the 'spicy green sauce' Trisha and I shared with our salad inside with our lettuce and tomatoes.

I am glad you were my Uncle. I am just sorry that I could not have been there to tell you my experiences of these past years.  You made me laugh, and you were family. And now, angels are leading you in.