No amount of words or photos can convey the heartbreak of losing my mom. I witnessed her fight for her life within the span of a couple weeks – doped up on morphine, with tubes and needles stuck in every part of her, unable to walk or sleep, told that she could no longer eat, and still clinging on to a sliver of hope that she could make it home and go back to the way things were. I don’t know if I’ll ever know anyone as fearless as her. Seven years ago, she was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer that had already spread to her liver and vertebrae. She was given six months to live, and not once did she let that diagnosis stop her from living her life to the fullest. After my grandparents passed away, she devoted her life to Buddhism, and with it, found a renewed sense of self and community. I have no doubt that it was her spirituality and support network that allowed her to live well beyond what the doctors had told her. Her enthusiasm and vital force sometimes made me forget that she was battling a terminal disease. No broken bone or fatigue could stop her from traveling back and forth to Arizona to construct a temple, or organizing a caravan of Buddhist disciples to a factory in China to cast an 18-foot bronze guanyin statue, or spending every weekend at temple to cook for hundreds of people. I can’t deny that moving through the world without her will be easy. She had an irreplaceable presence, with a sense of humor and compassion that remained true even in toughest of times. The nurses and doctors at UCI can attest – she never failed to crack a smile. She was a woman with unfaltering energy and resilience, a passionate storyteller with a voice that could make a room go quiet, a visionary and a leader, a caring and strong-minded teacher, a fearless and independent woman, an intuitive and artistic chef, and the best mom that I could ever ask for. I hope that I can continue to honor everything that she’s taught me in all that I do. To mom, Hong-Phuc Bui Tran 🤍🕯 5.3.63–5.28.22