Sometimes she’d play tricks. After we moved into our new home, when we
were trying to divide routine house work between us, such as cooking vs
maintaining the yard, she volunteered to take care of the yard, “I like to be
outdoors.” she said. So I ended up preparing food daily. A week later, while I
was cooking, I noticed there were crews mowing the yard, she had hired yard
services and to this day, I am still cooking.

Among all her boyfriends I was the least established, least mature and least
aggressive of them all. In addition, I was 3 years behind her in studying
abroad and working due to military services. Yet she had the courage to pack
all her belongs in the car, uprooted her connections and establishments, and
drove with me to San Antonio – a totally foreign land to both of us at the time
– to start a new life. Together, for 38 years, we have worked, played, loved and
laughed. Often we disagree with each other and had heated arguments, but at
the end of day, there were always sun shine and laughter after the fight (she
always wins).

When she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2010, it was already advanced
to stage 4 . For 10 years, Ling went through numerous treatments just to
contain its growth. She kept on working, traveling, and enjoy life, until her
physical conditions could no longer tolerate any available treatment. She was
admitted to Stone Oak Methodist Hospital on August 29, we brought her
home on September 18 (had her 68th birthday on hospital bed). September
22, after 1pm, she gradually stopped breathing while holding her son with her
right hand, mine on the left (after snapping her caretaker’s hand away), with
her older sister standing by her feet.

Once, Ling told me, “I have no regret in my life. I don’t want to die, but I’m
not afraid to die. I’m just wondering what other people would think and write
and talk about me.” I replied, “By then you wouldn’t need to worry about
those things any more.” She said, “But I am curious, I may want to correct
them just a little.”
Ling, I miss you.