The obituary notice of Cong Phong THAM

Read at the funeral (continued - final part):

We will be forever grateful to him for holding his arms around us to support our own growth and success, and that he was able to spend his later years surrounded by the love of his six grandchildren who adore their Gong Gong dearly.

Dad, we will miss your cooking classes and tasty dinners, the summers making hundreds of perfectly uniform Moon Festival cakes, your family photo sessions, your medical advice and treatments, your tips for gardening and growing vegetables, your questions on how to use the computer or how to respond to letters, your stubbornness when insisting on doing something in a particular way. Dad, we will miss you being you.
You already know that you live on through me, Suey, Binny, Susan and Andrew, and that between us we will look after mum, who you’ll be pleased to know is doing a great job with your greenhouse and vegetable patch. We promise to do you proud.
I’m going to read part of a poem that you researched and left notes for us to find, because I think it’s about you. By Robert Frost, from The Road Not Taken:
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Dad, in life you took the tough road but leave behind a beautiful legacy through us that you can be truly proud of.

You can now go and enjoy your deepest and most restful sleep.
Good night, Dad, we love you.

Read at the funeral (continued(:

...practice for many years after; documents for his Chinese takeaway business, clearly showing the blood, sweat and tears sacrificed to make it work; his own recipe cards for both food and medicine; newspaper clippings and research into autism to better understand his son, Andrew’s, condition. These are but a few of the things that painted dad’s life story, much of which he didn’t share, such was his quiet and humble nature.
What I love the most is that for every letter written, there are several drafts, where it’s clear to see that dad was a perfectionist. Of course, English wasn’t his first language, so he spent hours writing even the shortest of letters to get it right. He even produced his own Chinese-to-English dictionary, done steadily over the last 40 years on reams of paper dotted around the house.
There is absolutely no doubt that dad was a trier, always seeking to learn and do his level best. A true grafter through and through.
What stood out the most amongst his many things were the chronologically ordered photo albums of family from lovely pictures of him and mum when they met in 1975 to portraits of his grandchildren; and more recently his trips to China with mum and their friends; all beautifully organised into storybooks with great care and attention to detail. My description of the albums honestly doesn’t do them justice. He had huge respect for the motherland and especially the journey that the 036 Boat People endured to get to where they are now. As many of you know, dad organised the annual 036 reunion party for many years because it was hugely important to him to remember where we came from, and I’m personally grateful for the insight this gave into our background.
Above all, dad was an extremely dutiful son and husband, and proud dad and grandad. It’s plain to see from this brief life-snippet that everything he did, he did for his family.

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Read at the funeral:

This is the hardest thing I’ve ever written and, I hope, will ever have to read.
At first, I wasn’t sure where to start because dad was a quiet man, who didn’t give much away; always keeping his thoughts, feelings and himself, to himself. Even his hospitalisation wasn't known by a single friend or the wider family at his request, insisting that there was no need to let them know as he didn’t want to trouble anyone, which was typical of dad’s character. He was humble to the very core.
Many of you know that dad was a storyteller and did this through his love of photography and especially writing, regularly posting his own poems on Facebook for friends to enjoy.
So, it’s fitting that even after his death, he’s been able to tell his story in the most beautiful way, by leaving me a trail to now share with you; because in the days and weeks that followed dad’s passing, he left me and my sisters the wonderful job of sorting through his things. As ever, dad was the biggest hoarder, refusing to throw anything away, possibly because he started with nothing when he arrived in the UK and it was his way of cherishing everything he had, no matter how big or small. In doing so, we found hundreds of photos, huge piles of hand-written notes (enough to make several books!), newspaper clippings and letters he’d written dating back to the early 1980s.
Most notable were dad’s drawings of the 036 Vietnamese Boat People when they were rescued by British ship, Roachbank, together with photographs of that life-changing day in 1979. Then there was the certificate for learning English shortly after settling in the UK, which I know would have been extremely challenging for dad; certificates of naturalisation and NHS cards for immigrants which wouldn’t have been easy to get; several job applications (and rejections); letters revealing great tenacity and persistence to qualify as a member of the British Acupuncture Council, enabling him to then...

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We’re all missing you very much dad. We hope you’re now with grandma & grandad and the rest of your family chatting away. We all love you. Until we meet again, RIP dad❤️

Words cannot even begin to express our sorrow, may you rest in peace.

My condolences to my big sis family. You will be in my prayer. Be strong.

My greatest condolences to all family members.

I am saddened that I never got the chance to meet you. You have nothing to worry about because you have a great family and great legacy. May you Rest In Peace.

RIP Uncle 🙏