“I visited that hillside cemetery the next day, Weng.

Then a few days later, I went again.

Then again.

I began practicing the songs she loved
and realized I still had my voice,

though it had been silent for a long time.

When I go there now, other people visiting the graves
of their loved ones mistake me for her husband.

So in the end, Weng, you can see that I got some of my wish.”

Then Uncle Ping wrote down the poem that was carved into

his beloved’s memorial: