I was in a good mood. I had just been dismissed early from my shift at the hospital, and I looked forward to an empty house where I could eat lunch, watch reality TV recaps, and take a nap in peace. The sun shone brightly as I drove down the freeway, which was surprisingly free of the infamous Miami traffic. I love my fourth year, I thought to myself. The upperclassmen weren’t kidding when they said that the fourth year of med school is the best. Nothing beat being free from the obligation to study for exams after a long day at the hospital.
Despite the lack of cars on the freeway, I remained vigilant as I quickly scanned the road for speeders and Sunday drivers. My eyes soon rested on a car with its hazard lights flashing in the lane to my right. As I made a mental note to pass this car, I noticed that the car in front of it also had its hazards on, and so did the next few cars. It soon became clear that these cars were driving together in a procession. Is this a funeral? Just as this thought crossed my mind, I spotted it: a long, black hearse leading the line of cars with flashing hazards.
Suddenly, I was transported back to seven years ago. It was a bright and sunny California Friday, but I felt the opposite. A sea of black outfits and white headbands filled the pews of the church. (Headbands are the Vietnamese symbol for mourning the death of a family member.) I stood at the podium, fighting tears as I delivered Dad’s eulogy, recounting how he carried seven-year-old me on his shoulders to watch the fireworks at Disney World. Before I knew it, I was in a car following a hearse, then standing over Dad’s coffin with Mom and my brother to say our final goodbyes. I placed a card filled with messages declaring our family’s eternal love for Dad on his neatly clasped hands, kissed his face, and stepped back as the coffin was closed. Sobbing loudly, I hugged Mom and my brother tightly as the coffin and Dad entered the incinerator, never to be seen again.
Back in Miami, as I drove past the hearse and its procession, I allowed myself to do something I had not done in a very long time. I cried.
Marthena Phan
Miami, Florida