Duoc Nguyen

My father Duoc Nguyen has passed to join my mom in the afterlife. He was our protector, our stoic hero, and our loving watchman. Where do I begin? My father was orphaned at 8 years old after tragically losing his parents. A family found him eating discarded mangos on the streets of Phan Rang in Vietnam and adopted him. After compulsory school, Duoc began a career in the navy. He and my mom, Lai Diep, grew up together. They were in love and wanted to start a family. However, the Vietnam war had just begun and it tore their lives apart. It destroyed the lives of a whole generation. From him, I learned of the hell that is war. When the war ended, my father was forced into a re-education camp. He had to survive another hell for 3 more years. He had to change his name so the guards didn’t know his rank in the navy. He went by “Lee," a name many of his old friends still called him. With great luck, someone who had passed named Lee was allowed release from the camp and my father was mistakenly given a train ticket home. After he arrived home to Phần Rang, he knew he had to leave- uproot his life and make a new one. He was able to lead a boat of people out of Phần Rang. He used the stars in the night and the sunset to navigate their boat to Hong Kong. He knew to head the longer path north to steer clear of the pirates near Malaysia. He was a good captain, and made sure water was properly rationed. After several days at sea, he guided the boat safely over 700 miles to Hong Kong, where I was born. I heard this story from people we would meet throughout my youth. Because of his military help allying the US, we were granted permission for residency in the US and we had a wonderful welcoming community in Somerset, Pennsylvania. We moved from there to Portland, Oregon to join a budding Vietnamese community. Duoc and Lai laid down new roots. He worked at a Silicon factory for over 2 decades raising his 2 sons. He was a reserved person most of the time, as a contrast to my mom’s social nature. He loved sports, and some of my favorite memories of my youth are getting off the bus at Wallace park in Portland and seeing him there waiting for his boys (me, my brother Johnson and our other brother Gerald) and playing basketball before dinner. He loved his poker games with his boys and watching the Portland Trailblazers and Seattle Seahawks. I know that when the Trailblazers have a remarkable season, our first thought will be “Duoc would’ve loved it. Wish he was here”. We feel so blessed that he was able to see the Seahawks win a second Championship, and also play his last game of poker with his boys on the same day.

He lost the love of his life a little over five years ago. We are so comforted to know he is with her and God.

There is a saying that “a father’s silence will teach you more than his words ever could”. Dad, I have already learned so much from you and will continue to do so in your absence.

I can’t imagine a much better legacy than an eleven year old boy ending his prayers every night with, “Thank you God for my Grandma and Grandpa, I love you so much and I miss you so much.” What a life he lived.