Goodbye, Ngem.

Let me tell you about Ngem--pronounced "Niem". I met her in the late 1970s-early '80s. It seems like only yesterday we picked her up at the airport--her, her husband, and their three grandchildren. The family was quite exhausted, somewhat overwhelmed, and extremely excited. They were in America at last!

Although life in the U.S. was just beginning, memories of life as they had know it in Laos would always remain. There would be the good memories that would always bring laughter ad smiles. But the memories of their daughter's death while fleeing a hospital attack would always bring sorrow, and memories of crossing the Mekong River in the dark of night with three small grandchildren would always bring some degree of fear.

Our church had sponsored the family's move from a refugee camp in Thailand where they had lived for a couple years after escaping from Laos. Because of their ages, the grandparents doubted if they would ever get someone to sponsor them. After all, they didn't speak English, had no job skills, (grandpa was ex-military, and had only one arm), and they had three elementary aged grandchildren to support. Who would want them? Our church did.

For the first several months, Ngem's family lived with my family. We ate together, shopped together, pantomimed together, and the kids played together. We learned to eat spicy foods and Ngem's wonderful egg rolls. Her grand kids learned about Top Ramen which they called, "noodoos", and loved to eat. They learn a little English and we learned a little Lao. Then they moved into their own apartment and the kids enrolled in school. Their adventure had begun in earnest.

Over the ensuing years, Ngem quilted with the church ladies every Wednesday. She loved tying quilts. But most of all, she loved being in a room full of chattering women. Although she understood very few words, she understood laughter, smiles, colorful quilts that Lutheran World Relief would send to refugee camps around the world, and food.

Grandpa did get a job. He graced the local YMCA as a clean-up guy. Having only one arm didn't stop him. Once people got to know Grandpa, they loved him. I think that is because he love them. He loved all Americans, but especially American GIs.

By the time the grandchildren graduated from high school, Ngem and her family had greatly blessed not only my family, but also the church family, and the community.

I have had only occasional contact with them since they moved from here many years ago. The granddaughter and her family live in Texas. One grandson lives in western Washington, and the other grandson and his family live in a town near me.

Ngem and Grandpa were living in Alaska with close friends when she got sick. That was just last week. Monday morning I got a tearful call from the youngest grandson saying that Grandma had died. No one knows for sure what her age was, but she was probably around 90. How old she was is not important. What is important is that she was loved by her family and all who knew her. As her youngest grandson told me, "She and Grandpa gave up everything to give us a good life in America. They taught us to work hard. We owe everything to them, especially Grandma. We will miss her."

Goodbye, Ngem. I am a richer person for having known you.

Jan