Memories of the ancient jackfruit tree of President Ho Chi Minh's maternal grandparents.

The jackfruit tree had a large, rough trunk, casting shade over a corner of the yard. Whenever the jackfruit ripened and smelled fragrant, we would pick it and offer it to the ancestral altar of the Hoang Xuan family and my maternal grandparents as a token of our deep gratitude. In the years before the tree died, the fruit became sparser, and in some seasons, it didn't bear fruit at all. The trunk gradually decayed, and the leaves dwindled. Despite the efforts of plant experts, it could not be saved.

As of April 2020, according to the records preserved at the Kim Lien Historical Site, this jackfruit tree is over 130 years old. It is older than President Ho Chi Minh, the only tree dating back to his lifetime. During his time living in Hoang Tru with his grandparents, parents, siblings, and Aunt An, he often played and chatted with his family under this jackfruit tree behind their house. It was a peaceful, cool space that held cherished memories of his family. In 1961, for the first time after more than half a century away searching for a way to save the country, President Ho Chi Minh returned to his maternal hometown to light incense for his grandparents and ancestors, and to see the mementos in his grandparents' and family's house. Childhood memories flooded back. He was surprised to see that his grandparents' old jackfruit tree was still there. Moved, he said, "My grandparents' old jackfruit tree is still here?" "This tree used to bear so many segments of fruit, with thin but very sweet flesh." He clearly remembered its delicious taste; his sweet childhood, along with that of his siblings, was closely associated with this jackfruit tree. Over time, the large part of its trunk broke off, and the part we see now is actually a sprout growing from it.

Unlike other majestic old trees, this jackfruit tree stands quietly in the corner of the garden behind my maternal grandfather's house. Gentle, small, yet incredibly endearing. I've introduced it countless times, met with admiration, interest, curiosity, and affection from visitors. I wonder if it's an exaggeration to say that I feel this "old jackfruit tree" is like a very respected old friend. It stands there, silently listening to us tell stories about my uncle's family, sometimes about our life's secrets, the hidden secrets of our youth. It shares and empathizes with us on sweltering summer days, during the scorching hot winds of Laos. Someone once said, "Silence is also a language without words." Not everyone can feel that sweet sensation. Perhaps it's because I cherish it so much that I think of it this way? In truth, in our lives, familiar things are always a part of our memories. I myself have regularly seen "the old tree" for the past 15 years, and now that presence is gone. The feeling of those scorching summer days, still in that familiar corner of the garden, but no longer soothed by its foliage, leaves me with a sense of emptiness, loneliness, and sadness. I miss it!

Life and death are the laws of nature, and so are plants and flowers; they all have their own lifespans. Over 130 years is not a short time, but what is cherished always wants to be preserved. I wonder if this is a good thing we want to pass on. Right at the base of the old jackfruit tree, a small jackfruit tree has sprouted, and we are carefully tending to it. We hope it will take the place of the old tree, flourishing, sprouting new leaves, blossoming, and bearing fruit, bringing about the best things in life.

Though its passing is regrettable, what remains in the memories of visitors will endure through time. Remembering Uncle Ho and his hometown always brings to mind the image of this ancient jackfruit tree. Now, the tree has become a sacred and memorable relic, having witnessed the changes in part of Uncle Ho's life and in Hoang Tru – the place where the national liberation hero and outstanding cultural figure, President Ho Chi Minh, was born.