We are not here today to mourn, but rather to celebrate the life of my mother, Fei Tian, who passed away last Friday, June 12. And I am here today to tell you why, to my sister and me, she was a fire.
Fire is interesting in its paradoxical nature. It can burn fiercely, spreading and catch easily, yet can also be extinguished quickly. My mother, too, had a paradoxical nature. She was a working mother and a family mother. She was a scientist, a cook, a handywoman, a landlord, a dancer, a singer, a fashionista, a chauffeur, a confidante and best friend, and of course, a beloved mother.
Throughout human history, fire has been used for many things. It has been a source of illumination, to light the dark when night fell. My mother, too, was a beacon. She was there from the first day, literally. I am potty-trained thanks to her. I know my ABCs thanks to her. I can shave thanks to her. And when I called her, crying, because my children’s cartoon DVDs wouldn’t play, I got them to work thanks to her.
Fire has been used to create, using heat to shape raw materials into new objects. Fire allowed humans to turn pieces of metal into beautiful sculptures or impressive weapons. My mother, too, has shaped my sister and me into the people we are today. She guided us in our studies and in our lives. She was willing to go to any length to see us succeed, even if it meant impersonating Gollum to beg her precious to do more SAT practice tests.
And now, fire is used to provide the energy we use. Fire consumes the fuels we burn to run generators. My mother, too, was a source of strength and energy in our family. She was always willing to let her playful side show. Many of you know she loved to dance. What some of you may not know is that she could do more than Chinese folk dance. If you don’t know me, I am a breakdancer, and I would often practice at home or randomly break into dancing. One time, I was doing a few steps, acting all cool, when she saw me and said in an unimpressed tone, “I can do that too” (demonstration). My mother also loved to run. By that, I mean sometimes my father would jokingly insult her, which resulted in her chasing him around the house in circles wielding her slipper.
And finally, fire has been used a source of heat. Like a flame, she spread her warmth to those around her. She has touched all of us, particularly Amy and me, and we hope to honor her life with our own. As Lao Tzu once said, “the flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long.” We wish she did not depart so soon, but ultimately it is not length of life but rather depth of life that matters most.