Funeral funds and tribute to Mrs. Lomang Ieng

On April 29, 2024, our lives were forever changed with the sudden passing of our beloved mother. She fought until the very end. At the time of her death, Mom was progressing towards rehabilitation after a devastating stroke. She was slated to go home in a few days. Unfortunately, she suffered quietly and had a burst aorta in the early morning. She was rushed to USC but passed away before she underwent a heart transplant. We are still in shock and numbed by the reality that she is gone forever.

She was the heart and soul of our family, the rock upon which we all leaned, and her absence leaves a void that can never be filled. Her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren will miss her tremendously.

Your donation will go towards her rites of passage death ceremonies (Seventh Day ceremony, Cremation ceremony, and 100-day Remembrance Ceremony) and any outstanding medical bills and expenses as we close out her physical life. Thank you to those who have already donated or sent their condolences. We appreciate it very much.

Please read on to learn about Mom’s life:

Our mother, Lomang Ieng, was born on February 8, 1945, in Takeo province in the Kingdom of Cambodia. The youngest of eight children, she was dotted over by her siblings and parents. Tragedy struck when, at seven years old, her mother passed away from an illness. After her father’s remarriage, she was sent to live in Phnom Penh with her maternal uncle. A lawyer by trade, his political connections allowed Mom’s entrance into an otherwise exclusive classical dance training (Robam Preah Reach Trop របាំព្រះរាជទ្រព្យ) at the Chan Chhaya Pavilion in the Royal Palace.

Her first marriage was to a court musician at the tender age of 15. It was an unhappy one; the only solace was her children, Srey Heang and Srey Nyan. Both died tragically in infancy. At age 17, against societal norms, Mom divorced her husband. This action would represent a significant theme in her life - know your self-worth. When she was 18 years old, armed with only the address of a theater troupe, our mother bravely made the journey alone from Phnom Penh to Battambang. In Battambang, she performed onstage in Lokhon (Khmer theatre) and caught the eyes of an admirer, Khem Yinn. They went on to marry and had five children: Chanda, Chantha, Chandara, Neary and Aun. Her family lived an idyllic domestic life until their happiness was ruthlessly interrupted by the Khmer Rouge regime in April 1975. The genocide lasted four years and took the lives of her husband and three of her children. Between tears and anguish, she dug graves for her babies. We cannot begin to imagine the grief and trauma she experienced during this time. But she vowed to survive, and she did. In the labor camps, she met our father, Phal Buth, who was also mourning the death of a spouse. As fate would have it, they married. Falling in love came later and boy, they did ever fall in love! Knowing the absence of a mother’s warm embrace, Mom lovingly adopted Dad’s son, Chanmony, as her own.

During the Vietnamese occupation of Cambodia, Mom, pregnant with Lakana, made the arduous journey by foot to the Thai/Cambodian border. From 1980 to 1984, our family sought asylum at refugee camps where Mom taught Khmer dances and sold sweets. She gave birth to three children- Lakana, Chakriya, and Phaktravichet. In September 1984, our family was granted refugee status and immigrated to Long Beach, California. Life in America was not easy. Our parents battled racism, PTSD, language barriers, and financial difficulties. Mom worked tirelessly in sweatshops to provide for our family. Hunched over a sewing machine, she hustled till the early morning, only stopping when her eyes got too blurry to see the threads. We were never hungry thanks to her sacrifice and determination. Despite facing many challenges and tragedies, our mother rose out of the ashes. She battled bravely against numerous health challenges (ovarian cancer, diabetes, and a stroke), demonstrating incredible courage and perseverance. The doctors and nurses adored her. Many have pulled us aside to confide that she was their favorite. We suspect it's because she blew kisses at them.

Mom did not know how to love small but loved fully. Despite being part of a conservative generation, she did not judge anyone for their religion, race, gender, or social status. Her home welcomed Catholics, Chams (Muslims), Buddhists, and Mormons. As our parents were lovers of the arts, we hosted a revolving cast of Khmer musicians, comedians, and actors. Mom saw people’s humanity and cared for her guests like they were her children. Those who knew her knew her generosity, kindness, and resiliency. They cried with her when she recounted her story, and she cried with them as she witnessed their pain and suffering. Many called her "Mom."

They say that the most beautiful people we know are those who have known defeat, suffering, struggle, and loss and have found their way out of the depths. Mom was indeed a beautiful person. She had an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that filled her with compassion, gentleness, and empathy. Our mother’s journey was challenging but she built a wonderful life surrounded by her family and friends. She didn’t take life too seriously, always wide-eyed with child-like curiosity and humor. A social butterfly, you would find her at weddings leading the social dances or, to our father’s dismay, on stage performing. Her favorite song to sing? “I Am a Female Giant.” That was her vibe- she was a badass warrior.

While we selfishly wish we could have her for another twenty years, we are comforted in knowing that she can now rest and be reunited with our dad and her babies. May she bask in the knowledge that we grieve because we loved her. She was our sun in the dead of winter, our morning birdsong, our Mother Earth. She was the comfort we sought after a bad day and the satisfied exhalation after a good meal. We will remember her hearty laughs, silly faces, wisdom, hand squeezes, tight hugs, and the sweet way she said, “I love you.” May her rebirth see joy and laughter and be a life of ease and comfort.

Go in peace, Mom. We love you.