Earth Life Writer

Loss and the Lotus Flower – A Grief Story from Vietnam

Note: The image above was AI-generated and the lady in it looks nothing like my mother did. This is to respect her and my family’s privacy.

A couple of years ago, I got my Mother a Pink Lotus Flower Candle holder as a gift. I had returned to see her for the first time in over two years. I live in Vietnam, and COVID meant that getting home to visit friends and family was either always not permitted or entailed expenses far beyond my means.

The Lotus Flower is a prominent symbol in Vietnamese culture. Many consider it a powerful metaphor for modern-day Vietnam, as the Lotus, in all its beauty, blooms from the murkiest waters. The ability of the Lotus to grow from the foreboding muddy waters and flourish to become something so pure and beautiful is emblematic of Vietnam’s strength and ability to progress despite all the adversity it has faced over centuries. It represents the Vietnamese people’s grit, tenacity, and ability to use their surroundings advantageously.

Here is how this symbolism helps me to keep going after the death of my Mother:

My Mum unexpectedly died a couple of months ago, aged 65. Shock and heartbreak combined to present me with the hardest thing I’ve ever faced.

I held her hand as she gave her last breath and as her pulse stopped. I gently closed her eyes with my hands. She had been in a lot of pain, but she wasn’t anymore.

I remained on autopilot and in a state of complete shock until after the funeral. I needed to put my feelings aside to help my family get everything in order and to overcome an immense hurdle: writing and delivering her eulogy. I kept it together and got through the speech without crumbling. I did a dry run in the confines of my bedroom the night before the funeral. At the end of the practice run, I fell apart and wept for hours. This release of a torrent of emotions allowed me to get through it on the day.

After the funeral, the time soon came for me to return to Vietnam and to carry on with life. I’m still here, and times are uncertain. Being at home in the UK and not working significantly longer than expected certainly burnt a hole in my pocket, so the hustle continues to try and continue living well and in a way that would make Mum smile. As such, I’ve decided to pursue a career in writing, something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. I will also begin a part-time Master’s in Translation (Spanish) in the coming months, and I plan to integrate that into my writing.

But unsurprisingly, I’ve been dogged with grief, too. For me, the awareness that Mum’s gone is never absent, but the grief comes in waves. I’m not in a constant state of grief, but when I feel it, it’s about as acutely as a human possibly could. In certain moments, it’s paralysing. All my goals and aspirations feel a million miles away in those moments, but it’s never too long before I remember that life must go on, regardless of how painful that is to accept.

Recently, what would have been her birthday came and passed. It was yet another very sorrowful and challenging day. That day was when the Lotus came into its own.

With my partner and some friends, we found a quiet and serene spot in a local park. I took one of the last photos of Mum, a candle, a lighter, and, yes, the Lotus Flower candle holder I had gifted to Mum two years prior. I propped her photo up, lit the candle in the Lotus, and stood with the others as the glow of the candle lit up Mum’s face. There was a gentle breeze to offset the Vietnamese heat and humidity. Families and groups of friends were gently milling around the park, and children were playing and cackling. The engines of motorscooters purred along the roads in the distance. The surroundings served as a poignant reminder that life goes on.

The Lotus, however, gave the experience a palpable sheen of positivity and optimism. The significance of the Lotus as a symbol in Vietnamese culture became equally pertinent for Mum’s life and my own.

Mum had not had an easy life, yet, despite many hardships and ills, she had found a beautiful place of contentment and acceptance in her latter years. Like the Lotus, Mum’s life had come out of the dark depths and flowered into a life that exuded grace and serenity. In the glow of the candle atop the Lotus, Mum’s beauty shone as bright as ever.

As for my life, when I think of how the Lotus defies stagnant, boggy waters to bloom into a symbol of strength and purity, it gives me the resolve to persevere down the gloomy road of grief and bloom to live life with integrity. It gives me extra drive to offer something positive to the world. With these guiding principles, I can strive to live life for my own sake and the benefit of others. I can also endeavour to live a life that would make Mum proud.

A final note I’d like to make is that the Lotus Flower is seasonal. It comes and goes, and my ability to emanate the abiding sense of optimism and vibrance of the Lotus will likewise come and go. Still, it will come back. Long after I depart this world, the Lotus will continue to come and go for everyone else, too, so whatever heartbreak or hardship you may experience in this life, please hang in there, keep going, and wait patiently for the right time to bloom again.