We said our final goodbye to my Uncle Tony today. As the youngest of my Dad’s 4 brothers, and the 4th sibling of the “Sensational Six,” not a single one of us foresaw that he would be the first one to leave.

As predicted, his funeral service was full of testimonies of his incredible journey from a boat refugee to becoming one of the most respected aerospace engineers at the Federal Aviation Administration - a spectacular achievement by any standard, but then also nothing less one would expect from my family.

Whether we brutally lost our loved ones and homes to a war, or became political prisoners under the Communist regime, or how many times we had to restart our lives from the ground up, it was never a question of CAN we rise again like the Phoenix from the ashes, but WHEN.

But my first impression of Uncle Tony was none of that glamorous glory, but a reminder of our humility and appreciation for life. In 1997, on the 3rd day of my family’s newly settled life in the US, Uncle Tony, who had been here since 1975 and had been a successful FAA engineer for a while, introduced me to one of his favorite American delicacies:

It was the McDonald’s Apple Pie Bake.

And as menial and ordinary as that sweet little pastry was, the way he was enamored by it and enjoyed it with absolute delight - you might as well think he had bought it from a 5-star bakery in Paris.

And that is what I want people to remember about Tony: He Loved.

He was the embodiment of his Vietnamese name, Xuân Thu, which means Spring Autumn - vibrant and cheerful like a bouquet of Spring Daffodils, but also dreamy and romantic like a misty Autumn stroll. If the Greek goddess Venus of love and beauty was reincarnated in male form, she would be Uncle Tony.

He fell in love with everything around him, no matter how ordinary or extraordinary. He loved the fine embroidery details on the curves of his furniture. He loved the fruity aftertaste of his Chardonnay. He loved cars and mechanics. He loved the aroma of fresh coffee in the morning. He loved his music, and there was no one he couldn’t cheer up when he whipped out his guitar and serenaded them with his soothing voice. And if he could, he would tell you how much he loved the beautiful flowers at his funeral. He loved life.

And even though he appreciated the finer things in life and would never be caught dead in a wrinkled shirt, his favorite place to eat was Long John Silvers, and of course the McDonald’s Apple Pie Bake. Nothing was ever beneath him. He savored every little moment, and his enthusiasm for life was infectious.

And even though he was far from perfect and, like all of us, battled his own demons, I will still remember my Uncle Tony by these two words: He Loved.