In her later years, my mother was a patient at Whittier Hospital in Los Angeles, U.S.A. On May 31, 1996, I received news in Taipei that my mother’s illness had taken a tum for the worse, and I immediately boarded a plane for Los Angeles. During the flight I kept reflecting on the past. In my mind I could see my mother’s tender, smiling face as if it were before my very eyes. My heart filled with all manner of emotions, and I silently recited the name of Amitabha Buddha as a blessing for my mother.

Upon arriving at Los Angeles International Airport, I raced over to the hospital, but my mother had already passed on. All I could do was go over to Rose Hills Memorial Park to pay my last respects.

The nursing staff that had been looking after her told me that she was kind and frugal, and was plain and simple in her daily needs. She rarely bothered others and was always thinking of other people. My mother did not even want them to tell me about her worsening condition, to spare me any alarm or worry. My mother always took everything upon herself, and kept her feelings of care and loving concern inside. Twenty minutes before she died, she still left instructions with Venerable Tzu Chuang, the abbess of Hsi Lai Temple who was attending at her side:

Thank you for reciting the name of Amitabha Buddha on my behalf. I am leaving now, so, please, under no circumstances are you to let my son know, thus sparing him any distress. He should busy himself with the problems of all sentient beings and not be troubled on my account alone.

In the face of disciples and family members who had hurried to Los Angeles from various places, I decided to follow my mother’s final instructions by not disturbing the outside world and keeping everything simple. In accordance with her wishes, no formal condolences, no funerary contributions of money and no gifts or flowers were accepted. I then dictated the following obituary notice to solemnly inform all those concerned:

My mother, Mrs. Liu Yuying, peacefully passed away at 4:20 A.M. on the 30 of May, 1996, at Whittier Hospital in Los Angeles, U.S.A, amid the sounds of chanting “Amitofo:’ She was ninety-five years old. Many of her children and grandchildren as well as my disciples were by her side. Her body was then transferred to Rose Hills that same day.

Four days later, my mother was cremated at Rose Hills. Amid the sounds of those assembled there chanting sutras and reciting Amitabha Buddha’s name, I gently pressed the green switch to activate the cremation process. At that time I composed the following poem in my mind:

Between this mundane world and the Pure Land,
There remains the unchanging bond
between mother and son;
For whether here on earth or there in heaven,
She remains forever my dear mother.
With a burst of fire,
A puff of wind,
And a flash of light,
I bid eternal farewell to my mother.

My mother was twenty-five when she gave birth to my body. Since then seventy years had slipped away, and my mother has passed on. And so, with a push of a button, the body of my mother was cremated. Our physical bodies are like houses that we live in only for a short time. Time passes and the house becomes leaky and in need of repair. This temporary residence of ours will surely decay, and there will come a time when we will be unable to live in it anymore.

Some twenty years earlier, my mother once came to stay for a while at Fo Guang Shan, and on one occasion during a grand assembly of lay disciples, I asked whether or not she was willing to meet with them and say a few words. She agreed, but I was worried that my mother would be intimidated by stage fright. But to my surprise, she faced the assembled audience of more than twenty thousand and said with a calm assurance, “Fo Guang Shan is indeed the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss; a heaven on earth. We should rely upon the venerable master to be our guide in the hope that everyone will achieve enlightenment here at Fo Guang Shan. Everyone has been so kind to me, but this old woman has nothing to give to you in return. I can only offer my son as a gift to everyone.”

Her words were met by thunderous applause from the audience. My mother was illiterate and had never read any sacred literature, nor ever prepared herself to speak in front of others. But she had experienced the chaos of the late Qing dynasty, the Revolution of 1911, the establishment of the Republic of China, the armed occupations of the warlords, the Sino-Japanese War, the stand-off between the Nationalist Party and the Chinese Communist Party, and the Great Cultural Revolution, as well as the changes over time in relations between Taiwan and Mainland China.

The turmoil of the times had kept her constantly on the move; she lived through nearly one hundred years of epoch-making change. In her life, she practiced the Dharma, but she was too busy to let the question of whether or not she had a firm background in Buddhism bother her. She had already transcended the scriptural understanding with all its careful wording to bring fulfillment to her own life.

And yet, through the power of a vow, we have the power to return again to this human world.

Source: Hsing Yun, Four Insights for Finding Fulfillment: A Practical Guide to the Buddha’s Diamond Sutra, Los Angeles: Buddha’s Light Publishing, 2012.

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