Hello, everybody, and thanks for coming. Mom would be so honored you are here today.

Cecil Rhodes the old imperialist used to say that to be born English was to win the lottery of life. We Lins knew who the real winners were – Mom’s husband and kids.

Dad never quite believed he had landed her. In the early 1950s, a photography studio in her hometown used her photo as an example of the ideal face for women.

Mom raised us in a dizzying succession of homes: New York, Taiwan, Minnesota, and Illinois. Except for a year and a half in Taiwan, she had to master a new culture and language at the same time. I remember 3 episodes from childhood.

Once, in Taiwan, when I was about 5, I asked her why it was harder to go upstairs than downstairs. Mom was not about to start explaining gravity. “Cuz you’re lazy!” she snapped in Taiwanese.

Pun-twan. You did NOT want to hear Mom say pun-twan.

Fast forward 3 years, and I’m in 3rd grade in Illinois. I came home on the last day of school with a report card I was proud of and excitedly waved it to her in the kitchen. I was still so short that she knelt down to hug me.

Fast forward maybe 7 more years, and the twin newspaper boys who regularly biked through our back yard complimented me on how delicious Mom’s cooking smelled while they were trashing our lawn. We ate restaurant quality Asian cuisine all our childhoods.

This year, Mom needed caregivers, and they stepped up heroically. Eventually, her regular caregivers were Melanie on weekdays and Lani on weekends. That whole crew of caregivers was extraordinary. With their loving care, they gave Mom and us what nothing could buy: precious extra months. Our gratitude to them is immeasurable.

We also thank you, the residents, who befriended Mom in exercise classes, the events at Schumacher, and the Cove. She had less than two and a half years here, but you welcomed her into your hearts, as you have made clear to us in person. She knew she was loved. Thank you so much.

We just wish you'd seen what a force she remained to be reckoned with long into her 70s and 80s.

In her 70s, this is a story that dad would tell with pride, our parents were traveling through Italy on their own, when Mom spotted a pickpocket trying to lift Dad’s wallet on a bus. She punched him. That was Mom.

Now Mom is free of her illness and reunited with her parents, including her mother, whom she lost 43 years ago. That loss pained her deeply.

I like to think she is young and strong again: the girl who rode home from school in the back of ox-drawn farm carts, the stunner in the 1950s who turned Dad’s head in Lotung, the tireless mom and aspiring Californian who raised her kids in two megacities and two small towns in two countries.

Mom’s story here has ended. But our memories of and love for her will go on forever.

Hi everyone. I’m Margaret, June & HC’s youngest, bringing up the rear. Thank you so much to all of you for coming to honor and remember our mom today.

I’ll echo a few memories shared by my brothers, and I want to help convey a sense of who June was by sharing a few of my own.

From her youth, Mom stood out partly for her bold and independent spirit, especially for her generation. As Henry mentioned, she was always stylish. Her sisters – two of whom are here from Taiwan today – spilled the story that Mom dyed her hair RED as a young schoolteacher (probably 18 years old) in Taiwan. You can imagine how she must have stood out - no one else in 1950s Taiwan was doing that!! She was also definitely fashion forward, and her younger sisters still talk about some of her eye-catching outfits that they admired.

That boldness showed up in Mom generally. From my earliest years, she was my example of a strong, fearless woman. She spoke up for herself and spoke her mind, and didn’t let anyone take advantage of her. And she was something to behold when talking to street vendors - or bargaining at a market - in Taiwan!

My brothers have already spoken about Mom’s cooking … and I’ll add to that, because cooking was Mom’s love language and a central part of our lives.

I was never allowed to go to school or a weekend extracurricular event without a HOT breakfast she cooked, even when that meant cooking me breakfast at 4:00 AM on many Saturdays in high school when I had to travel to school events hours away. As an independent-minded teenager, I didn’t actually want my mom getting up to make breakfast for me at 4:00 AM - but she couldn’t be stopped.

And I have to add to George’s memory about the twin newspaper boys: Twenty years after I had left for college, I ran into those boys’ older sister when I was back in town for a reunion. And the first thing she said to me was how she remembered helping her brothers collect the newspaper money door to door and how they would all stand on our doorstep with their mouths watering when Mom was cooking dinner. That was her powerful memory that rushed back to her 25 years later when she saw me. Mom made our house smell like a great restaurant.

Beyond her great cooking, Mom was resourceful and adaptable, which made all the difference for us. Through the multiple moves back and forth from Taiwan to the US, and our eventual life in a small town in the cornfields of Illinois, where we were the only East Asian family . . . through all that, while Mom was continually learning English herself, she managed to navigate everything and figure things out, managing our home and school life smoothly – and adapting to all the customs and activities – so we did all the fun things the other kids did and never felt like we didn’t fit in. She made it her job to make sure we adjusted well and were happy kids.

She took impeccable care of us - and this year, it was her turn to need care. We’re endlessly grateful to the caregivers we had here at The Covington. Thank you especially to Melanie, who took superb care of Mom full-time … and to Aina, Analyn, and Amelia who are also here today and were also part of our excellent caregiving team.

And thank you – all of you – for who you were to Mom, and for being with us here to honor her today.

Mom, I feel so lucky I got to be your daughter. Thank you for everything. I know your spirit is still with us. I will miss you forever, but I will always carry you in my heart and know I will see you again one day.

 Hello, I’m Henry, June’s eldest. I thank you sincerely for gathering today to honor her memory. My mother was a woman of grace, strength, and kindness.

Being born into, and growing up in, Taiwan in the 1930s to 1950s can’t have been easy. I liked Mom’s stories of when she visited her grandfather’s rice farm as a little girl. She always told me from my youngest days to never waste any rice. “Every grain of rice represents a drop of a rice farmer’s sweat,” she would say. Undoubtedly, that’s what her grandfather told her. To this day, I treat each grain of rice respectfully, and feel guilty if a few grains are accidentally washed down the drain.

The Taiwanese in the 1950s envied America for its riches, and they imagined life in America was exactly as portrayed in the Hollywood movies that were shown in Taiwan’s theaters. Mom’s best friend was a seamstress who would make copycat dresses from ones June liked in magazines and movies. She once famously splurged a full month’s pay as an elementary school teacher to buy a single coat. I’ve seen pictures of her in elegant dresses from then, and she definitely had a Taiwanese Grace Kelly vibe. Mom was taller than the average Taiwanese woman, and truly embodied the Chinese idiom (鹤立鸡群) “a crane standing among chickens”, meaning someone who stood out in more ways than one.

Later, in the U.S., Dad was gone a lot for work, so Mom was the strong partner managing the household. She was a wonderful cook, and as a testament to that, every day Dad would come home from work to enjoy her lunches, and George occasionally ventured home from high school for the same reason. No, they would not settle for a packed sandwich! Her kitchen was the heart of our family.

She was excited with the arrival of each grandchild. Even in her last days, she would still inquire about Marie, Nicholas, and Michael. She cared deeply about them.

June inherited her father’s stoicism. This was starkly displayed during her illness this last year. She never complained, and bravely dealt with each ensuing health challenge. Thank you to the caregivers who are here today; you were instrumental in easing her final journey. In the end, we are grateful that she slipped away peacefully.

Mom, I miss you so much already. Thank you for everything. You are my heart forever. We will take good care of Dad. Rest in peace.