Skip to content
The Archive of The Carrboro Citizen
Menu
  • Home
  • News
  • Community
  • Schools
  • Business
  • Opinion
  • Obituaries
  • Sports
  • Mill
  • Flora
  • Print Archive
  • About
Menu

My nephew Viet

Posted on October 30, 2008 by Staff

Viet was killed in a car accident Oct. 10, 2008.
Early 1980s

My little nephew, sleeping next to me. In an unguarded sprawl, he marks longitude and latitude across most of the bed; this little 3 year old, snoring like a cow. His adenoids, removed soon after.

Mid-‘80s

My nephew, an afternoon outing. Amazingly, his folks trust me with their young son. I strap him in, hoping/guessing I’m doing it right. I drive through town, unaware of playgrounds and fresh air, suspecting the record store can’t entirely accommodate us. We go to the mall and poke around. I get ice water at McDonald’s, put Sweet’n’Lo in it. “Here, it’s sweet but won’t make you crazy high on sugar. It’s a free Tab without the caramel coloring. Or bubbles.”

Late ‘80s

My nephew, dropping hungry hints, noticing those birds and bees. I ask his parents’ permission if I can tell him. They nod eagerly, I think relieved. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but spontaneous diagrams happened. I remember his Asian eyes round with awe, his body upright on the edge of his seat at the dining room table, in a completely quiet house except for my odd voice. I pause periodically, looking for recognition on his face to confirm he understands. Just more awe.

Early 1990s

I give him the rest of the story. Beyond the anatomical … the politics of sexuality. I tell him if anyone moves you out of your comfort zone and isolates you, if anyone backs you into a corner, it’s okay to defend. Then I tell him how. I tell him some will be well-intentioned and kind, some will not. I vaguely remember this. Years later he says, “Auntie, remember when you told me there are rats? You were right. I met a rat.” I don’t remember saying those words; I’m glad I provided a reference point for him to firmly reject an ill-intentioned taker, grateful he told me my risky investment (candid talk to a young soul) had value.

Mid-‘90s

He’s so awkward. He’s trying on faces and voices and gestures. He’s too agreeable. I wanna know what he thinks. I’m not sure he does. I wait.

Early 2000s

He’s a hard worker. He forms opinions. He’s been listening at family gatherings. Our table talk is Classic Chapel Hill Liberal. We are unapologetically educated. He crosses his legs, leans an elbow on a knee, and props his chin in that hand. He interjects. I don’t notice; I have something to say and won’t stop. He interjects. I realize he’s talking. I sit back and listen. He talks.

Mid-2000s

He sends postcards from Paris, Moscow, and Hanoi. I tour his tiny one-room Upper West Side apartment by merely glancing side to side. He and his cat generously accommodate me. I love being in his space, more elegant and organized than my tiny one-room East Village apartment fifteen years earlier. He studies French literature at Columbia and works for Louis Vuitton, then Chanel. He gives me a cream silk scarf with a large black motorcycle across it, calling it tasteful and edgy like me.

October 10, 2008

Viet is in the back seat of a jeep. He and two other young men are almost at the Big Sur retreat site where they’ll spend the weekend with other MBA students from Stanford University. The car goes over a cliff and falls 700 feet. All three men die.
Today
I miss my ever-blooming nephew. I must release my anticipation of being your old Auntie, asserting challenges and humbly correcting myself under your love and care. I must accept that you will not age past your photographs. I looked forward to discovering you throughout your years, living our continuum. Apparently no. I love you and I thank you, Viet. I miss your heartbeat in this world.

Viet Quoc Nguyen was born November 23, 1979. He was raised in Carrboro. His family includes his mother and father, Nga Cao and Kim Nguyen, his grandmother Ba Why, his grandparents Carl and Eve Shy, his aunts Leslie, Rosalie and Ann, uncles Temo, Mike, and Stuart, and cousins Delmar, Jordi, Brian, Lia, Caleb, and Cash. Viet’s Pennsylvania family includes his maternal Uncle Hwa and extended family. His California family includes Craig and the paternal Nguyen family. His Australian family includes his maternal Uncle Trung and family. Extended family remain in Vietnam.

Viet started off at Frank Porter Graham Child Development Center in 1980 and finished up at Chapel Hill High School in 1998. He earned his undergraduate degree at Duke in political science and French in 2002. He earned a master’s in French literature from Columbia in 2008. Viet began the MBA program at Stanford in September 2008. With his parents’ hard work and commitment, he followed his goals. The family appreciates the support of every community that touched him along the way.

A memorial service will be held at 2:30 p.m. today (Thursday) at St. Thomas More Catholic Church, 940 Carmichael St. — Ann Shy

8 thoughts on “My nephew Viet”

  1. Phyllis Jean Green says:
    October 31, 2008 at 5:53 am

    Having read this in the paper, I just had to see if I could find information about Ms. Shy. This tribute is so touching! Excellently written!! {Writer-friends will be able to tell how excited I am when they see the no-no -ly adverb!} I am very sorry for her loss, but she has made me feel that I knew her nephew Viet, and for that, I am grateful. Love to see more of Ann Shy’s writings! Color me impressed!! Phyllis

  2. daniel bonnel says:
    November 1, 2008 at 8:33 am

    ANN
    i am a very closed friend of Viet from France
    Viet told me often about you
    I met him in Paris in 2001,
    i did not get any reply about my recent mails, i was worried, i search on google,i had a strange feeling
    i am terribly sad.
    your writing is excellent i am crying
    i lost more than a friend a lover
    my dearest Viet
    we have visited London together,
    i called him this sept 11, this day every human remembered what he did, from Nice, a sea front public phone, it was 8;20 am at Duke…

    I was in Nice 7 years later this Oct 10!I found the public phone and thought about Viet i did not come back there since 2001!

    Later i went to Duke a few days , he proposed to come to visit you it was the easter day maybe i was shy this time …
    anyway it would have been nice to meet you this time
    i have so many good souvenirs with Viet!
    my heart is devastated
    i can stop to cry
    Love to you and his family
    daniel
    (sorry for my bad english)

  3. meg says:
    November 7, 2008 at 10:12 am

    Ann, I’m so sorry. What a beautiful memory you have of him. My love to all your family. Meg (yes, that one)

  4. daniel bonnel says:
    November 18, 2008 at 11:50 am

    My love
    my warm feelings to Viet wonderful family

    May Viet help us to live without him

    i miss him terribly

    daniel from Paris

  5. Glen says:
    November 21, 2008 at 9:21 pm

    Daniel,
    Did you find a way to contact Viet’s friends and family?
    GlenTig@gmail.com

  6. daniel b says:
    November 22, 2008 at 12:39 pm

    My dearest Viet

    your birthday 23th nov
    a date we ll never forget
    i could call you
    i could send you an ecard
    this time you will not reply
    but you know : )
    Happy birthday my little angel
    i miss you

    love
    daniel

  7. daniel b says:
    December 24, 2008 at 4:55 pm

    Merry Christmas My Angel

    You are in a place of delight as you said
    ……so far or …. so closed but we know!

    We loved you ,
    We do love you !!!!!!!

    Special thoughts to your family

    love
    Daniel

  8. Michael Nguyen says:
    December 31, 2008 at 12:54 am

    I just came across this tribute. It is so beautifully written, I had to comment! I love the description of my good friend Quoc Viet crossing his legs and giving his opinion on something. That was SO him. I miss him a lot and I really can’t believe he’s gone. 2008 went by too quickly…

    Miss you much Viet,

    Michael

Comments are closed.

Web Archive

© 2025 The Archive of The Carrboro Citizen | Powered by Minimalist Blog WordPress Theme