Not quite two years ago, I wrote a tribute to my grandfather, Gong Gong, when he passed away at the age of 93. I am saddened today to write another tribute, this time for my beloved grandmother, Po Po, who passed away on Sunday. I feel so incredibly fortunate that Ryan, Spencer, Tyler and I happened to be passing through Los Angeles this weekend and had a chance to eat lunch with her at her favorite dim sum restaurant two days before she died. The photo above is the last one ever taken of Po Po.
In Remembrance of Po Po (1917-2010)
Faith and strength. I’d be willing to bet that these would be the first two words that would come to mind if you asked anyone to describe my grandma Hung Chen Tao (or “Po Po” as her grandchildren called her) – it wouldn’t matter if you’d known her for just a few minutes or if you’d known her for her entire life.
To enter into Po Po’s life was to be prayed for by her. She was as old school as you could get, starting and ending every day on her knees by her bed. I always suspected that if anyone had a direct line to God it would be her, and felt blessed knowing that not a day in my life went by that my name was not lifted up in prayer by my grandmother.
It didn’t matter that Po Po had suffered significant tragedies in her own life, fleeing to Taiwan during the communist takeover of China and dealing with a failed cataract surgery that left her legally blind while raising four young children. During these difficult times, instead of becoming disillusioned with the world, she found faith and strength in God that resulted in deep compassion for others.
Her final act the night before she passed away was to write a check for a struggling seminary student – someone she had never met but had heard about that week. Po Po didn’t have a lot of money, and the check might not have seemed particularly large, but I hope that seminary student will understand the significance of the gift. I would want to convey to him what a treasure my Po Po was, a unique person of wonderful contradictions - a woman with cloudy eyes but a clear mind, a strong will but a warm heart, a social butterfly yet a prayer warrior.
With Po Po’s death, it feels like the end of an era – the passing of a giant. On one hand, this image seems odd: my grandmother was humble and never would have seen herself as a giant. On the other hand, it is incredibly appropriate, for she was very much a giant – a pillar of faith and strength – in our family and in her community.
My aunt fittingly noted that Po Po left us just as she had lived every day before. Engaged, active, faithful, generous. On Sunday morning, Palm Sunday, a day of Victory no less, she got up, prayed, and dressed to attend her church service with a special check tucked into her purse. While eating breakfast, she clutched her heart, took three breaths in my mom’s arms, and left to attend a far grander service in heaven.
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I made a short film several years ago, documenting four generations of women in my family: Po Po, my mother, my sister, and my niece. More than anything I could write or say, this film conveys the spirit of the woman I have respected and loved for so many years and the legacy she leaves behind...
