This photo brought back fond memories when I was growing up in Tsuen Wan, Hong Kong. We did not even have refrigeration then. Every morning you had to go to the market to get fresh vegetables and meat for the day's meals. Leftover from lunch would be stored in a cabinet with a mesh door to keep the bugs out yet allowed air circulation. At room temperature. It could be up to 90+ degrees during the summer months. At night the leftover would be steamed and stir fried again, to be eaten with the dinner dishes. No one ever got sick from food poisoning nor spoilage. Then you repeated the next day shopping for everything fresh again.

Three years later...

It has been more than three years since the passing of my older brother. I have time to grieve and pray over many thoughts in my mind. Slowly I have began to go through some of his belongings that I have in storage at my house. Last month I shredded all the old files: correspondence with nursing homes, hospital, rehab notes, medical school loans, Social Security Administration, Medicaid and more. I am surprised by how many people and places I have communicated over the years after his stroke. Last week Kendra said would it be best that Emil passed away instead of continued to suffer? I agreed but also told her I miss visiting Emil, talking to him, hearing his voice, and giving him a gentle touch. Now they are all memories. It also teaches me to cherish the limited time we have on this earth. Don't dwell on the little things. Don't be negative on silly stuff.

The Aftershock

At a funeral viewing last year a friend leaned over and said the grieving family was not feeling it yet. I asked him, a physician, to elaborate. He said they were busy in the funeral arrangement, viewing, and other tasks. When the burial is done and they return to their respective homes, and late at night and alone, then the impact of the loss of a loved one will hit hard.

Now I know what he meant.

More than a week after the passing of Emil and with most of what should be done completed, I was hoping it will be a period of rest until it's time to bring his cremains to Vancouver. Then the sad feeling kicks in. In my heart I am happy that he is no longer suffering. In my heart I am glad there is a closure. But yet I miss him.

For nine years every Sunday I will read the Walgreen ad thoroughly for chocolate on sale. Emil loved dark chocolate, the more bitter the better. I would buy one and mail to him in the beginning of the week. I would stockpile padded envelopes and small boxes just for that purpose. My children sometimes asked me why? I would tell that this is my way in letting him know someone remember and care about him. We may not be able to visit him often. But this will be your Dad's way in saying we care about you, Uncle Emil. When he could no longer chew anything solid after a dental surgery, I would get plain chocolate bars or those with soft filling. This ritual came to an abrupt end when Emil passed away. All those boxes and envelopes sitting at a corner of my basement now as a painful reminder that I lost a brother.

For a week I was busy in taking care of everything. Along with my siblings, we comforted our parents. Now it is my turn to process the loss and it is not easy.

More thoughts...

This is the first time I have to deal with the passing of a family member close up. I have been in the States for more than thirty years now. I have heard about the passing of some relatives back in Hong Kong over the years. To me they were distant memories. The only death that I shed a tear over was my younger uncle. I always remember him as a generous, even-tempered man who treated my younger aunt with respect.

It dawned on me that my three children met their uncle for the first time nine years ago, in the ICU of MetroHealth after his stroke. They were surprised to learn that they have a Uncle Emil. Over the years we paid him many visits first at St. Augustine Manor, then later on at Rae Ann Center. Emil, who spent most of his life prior in pursue of his dream in becoming a physician, discovered the joy of meeting and getting to know his two nieces, Danika and Kendra, and nephew Brendan. He literally saw them growing from kids to young adults.

Good Bless Emil

On Saturday, March 15 2008, our dear brother Dr. Chun Hing Choi went to heaven in his sleep. "Emil" as we usually call him, fought a brave battle for nine years after a debilitating stroke which left him half paralyzed. Over the last few years he has asked me to write a book about his struggles and his life. This is my first step in honoring his request.