Bea scoffed. “That’s completely different, Lily! Mom’s past, her history, isn’t necessarily ours. She chose to cut us off, and I’ve come to terms with that. I wish you would, too. Please drop it. For my sake, and Leo’s.”

Even after I begged Bea to read Mother’s letters, she insisted she wanted nothing to do with her, holding firm in her loyalty to Father, the parent who’d stayed and done his duty. Any other approach seemed treasonous in her eyes. She didn’t want to know anything, and I interpreted this as her way to avoid confronting the pain Mother’s abandonment had caused her.

Bea told me not to waste time on the past because I had more important things to concentrate on. She urged me not to invite bad ghosts into my life, especially with Leo here now. But Mother continued to haunt me. I thought about how she left this world. She hadn’t allowed herself to bloom and pulled the petals off the stem prematurely, painfully, denying that she needed something, someone to nurture, feed, and fertilize her. I thought about my own struggles and chose to seek comfort in a grove, where I could reach across to others. I learned to lean on my aunties, my father, my sister, my friends, and John. I would do everything I could to prevent myself from withering away on the vine like Mother.

Auntie Choo Neo, Auntie Miriam, Auntie Elizabeth, Hilary, and Bea did not disappoint. Leo’s red egg and ginger party was the family gathering of the year.

In the end, I relished the planning with my family and enjoyed learning the cultural rituals. The event wasn’t going to be authentic. How could it be? This was going to be my kind of red egg and ginger party. Plus, Leo was already eight months old. She was well past the age when children had their red egg ceremonies, where their name was revealed. In my childhood memories, even baby Billy’s party wasn’t authentic. But what was authentic? Every village or city in Asia must have its own rituals. I settled on infusing tradition into a modern celebration.

At Father and Auntie Choo Neo’s home, I drew from all the branches of my Canadian family tree to put together a hybrid Asian feast. I made my favourites: char kuey teow with cockles and lap cheong, and ayam panggang sambal grilled chicken; Auntie Choo Neo made her signature satay; Father made his Hakka-style jiu gai; Auntie Elizabeth made her famous steamed fish and bok choy with abalone in oyster sauce; Auntie Miriam made some fried rice; Bea made tiger shrimp laksa and Hainanese chicken and rice; and Hilary brought Peking duck and some dim sum favourites like har gow and char siu bao. To accompany the abundance of delicacies, Hilary could not restrain herself from arranging for a local bubble tea shop to send dozens of drinks.

I put out red eggs, as well as Ukrainian Easter eggs with red batik designs. John was surprised. “Did you pull these out?”