My friend Katarina lost her father very suddenly on Sunday morning, at age 86 after a massive stroke. Frank Wong was an extraordinary man. Gentle and kind, but fierce when it came to his family. Smart and funny and generous and brave. I always loved to hear Katie's stories about him. Katie says in her email announcing his death:
"For those of you who didn't get a chance to know my dad, he was a wonderful man who, in a houseful of boisterous and opinionated women, presided in a quiet but good-humored way.
My dad was extremely proud of his military service to this country. He arrived here at 16 during the Chinese Exclusionary Law and so loved his new homeland that he enlisted for 3 terms during WWII and the Korean War, earning a Bronze Star for valor in the latter. Despite this incredible achievement, my dad was extremely modest and he would practically have to be begged to talk about any of this.
My father also dearly loved animals and seemed to always have his pockets filled with treats when he visited my sister's home -- often much to her dismay. In one year alone we swear he was singlehandedly to blame for her dogs putting on 5 lbs each.
Most importantly, he was a caring and loving father and husband."
My favorite memory of Mr. Wong is at the rehearsal dinner before Katie's wedding in Annapolis. One of their friends had a small baby who was crying outside on the patio in her carrier. I was the only other person on the patio, and he may have thought it was my baby. He had a very soft heart, and he could not stand to see something so small crying. He also had a presence, a quiet authority, and I could not figure out why he was sending me these meaningful and commanding glances. His innate politeness would not allow him to say what he wanted to say, "would you just pick that baby UP!" I was 22 years old and had no idea what he meant, or what to do with a baby. It was such a funny dance of his manners and kindness matched with my cluelessness. As soon as it dawned on me, "he thinks that's my baby!" the baby's mom came out and comforted her, and Mr. Wong visibly relaxed.
We don't live anywhere near Katie, and I don't know how I can help her. We have been praying for Mr. Wong by name each night since we heard the news. My parents pray for him and remember him at daily Mass. We told R who he was and some stories about him, so we could celebrate his long and happy life together. Each night since we heard the news, we have raised a toast to him at dinner. Tonight after the Our Father and the Hail Mary's were done, I asked her if she had a prayer of her own for him. She said, "Dear God, take care of Mr. Frank Wong and bring him quickly into Heaven, where it is always bright. It is always light in Heaven, did you know that. I heard that he loved dogs and did you know, I love dogs too. I hope there are dogs in Heaven for him. I am sure there are. Dear God, please take care of all the dogs in Heaven too. (then I asked her, can you say a prayer for his family, who are sad right now because he has left them) and she said, "Dear God, please make their hearts not hurt so bad, because he is all in the brightness and the dogs are happy to see him. Please make them know that he is all in the brightness and they shouldn't be sad."
He is all in the brightness. I know that's true.
Donations can be made in his memory either to the Disabled American Veterans (www.dav.org) or to the Humane Society of Naples Florida (www.collierhumanesoc.org).
We saw the most beautiful white butterfly on Monday night, coming home just at dusk from a walk. It was very small, but pure white. It landed on the white flowers in the front yard and for a minute you couldn't see it. Until it took off again, bright against the dark blue sky. R was totally delighted, she laughed as it flew away and ran after it. It gave me such a sense of peace and hope, I thought, I am remembering this date and filing that one away. Then that night, we got the news of Mr. Wong's death.
Tree, that is really lovely. Frank was a wonderful, dignified man with immense reserve. I remember one time he watched me as I lounged around Katie's house one summer over a couple months, drinking beer -- he eventually suggested that I might want to get into running "so you don't turn into a soft-shelled shrimp."
ReplyDeleteThat's great that your parent are praying too, as long as your father says the right prayer not the dinner blessing. James
That is classic. I don't think he minced words much. At the same time, imagine what he had been through in his life, but he was still so kind. I forgot about my Dad launching into Bless Us O Lord instead of the Our Father. Now we are the ones who do that all the time and have a little smart alec giggling at us.
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