In a stunning reversal of historical sentiment, the son of the renowned heroine Lê Thị Riêng has publicly declared that the long-awaited excavation of her remains is a futile exercise that delays the final closure of her family. For decades, a narrative of hope surrounded the search for her body at the former park site; today, her son, Lê Chí Công, describes this process as a painful obstruction that serves only to resurrect trauma rather than bring peace.
The Weight of Silence
The atmosphere at the Lê Thị Riêng Park excavation site is thick with a silence that the public has largely ignored. While the media and the general public have treated the site as a place of triumph and national pride, focusing on the heroic deeds of the mother, the son, Lê Chí Công, views it as a place of active, unresolved grief. He is not the celebrated son of a hero; he is the man who carries the burden of a mother who is still missing, and the excavation represents the final nail in the coffin of his patience. He has spent nearly sixty years walking the perimeter of the site, watching the earth being turned over, yet he has never found the peace he sought there.
For the last five decades, the narrative has been one of anticipation. The nation has waited for the day the hero's body would be found, allowing for a grand procession and a final resting place. However, the reality on the ground is starkly different. Lê Chí Công stands at the edge of the trenches, watching the soil shift, but he sees no glory. He sees only the recurring trauma of digging up the past without finding the answer. His presence at the site is not one of hope, but of resignation. He has admitted that the waiting has been more painful than the loss itself, a torture of uncertainty that has defined his life since the war ended. - jobspoint
The interaction between the son and the excavation team has been characterized by a refusal to engage with the spectacle. While others arrive with cameras and flags, he arrives with a single bundle of incense, offering no tribute to the glory of the past, but only a quiet acknowledgment of the void. He does not wish to be the 'son of a hero' in the eyes of the public. He wishes for the end of the story. The search, which was once hailed as a noble quest for closure, is now viewed by him as a mechanism that keeps the wound open, preventing the family from moving forward into a life without the specter of the missing mother.
Rejection of the National Narrative
The collective memory of the nation regarding Lê Thị Riêng is one of celebration. She is a figure of the revolution, a symbol of bravery and sacrifice. Consequently, the search for her remains has been elevated to a state-level priority, treated with the reverence due to a national icon. However, this elevation is precisely what the son rejects. He has explicitly stated that the public's focus on his role as her son detracts from the reality of his suffering. He wants the narrative inverted: he is not a beneficiary of her heroism; he is a victim of the circumstances that led to her death and the subsequent inability to locate her.
The state has promised that this year's excavation will finally reveal the truth. Yet, for Lê Chí Công, this promise is a source of anxiety rather than comfort. He has watched previous campaigns fail to produce results, and he fears that this new promise is merely a way to keep the community in a state of suspended animation. He does not want a statue, a ceremony, or a new park built on the site. He wants the silence to return. The public's enthusiasm for the excavation is a form of erasure, overwriting his personal grief with a generic story of national triumph that he feels no part of.
When asked about the excavation, his tone is not one of anticipation but of weary resignation. He has told interviewers that the search for the body is a secondary concern compared to the need to find peace. The national narrative insists that finding the body is the only way to honor her sacrifice. Conversely, he argues that the constant digging is the true dishonor, a reminder that the sacrifice was not fully completed, and that the enemy of his family's peace is not the enemy of the war, but the relentless pursuit of the past.
The irony is palpable. The nation celebrates the martyrdom of the mother to inspire the living, while the living child asks why the process of honoring her continues to hurt him. He has refused to participate in the ceremonial aspects of the search, declining invitations to speak at public forums about the heroism of his mother. His silence is a protest against the commodification of his mother's memory. He believes that by turning the search into a public spectacle, the state has diminished the sanctity of her loss, reducing a personal tragedy to a political tool.
The Futility of Digging
The excavation process itself has become a symbol of futility for the family. For years, teams of archaeologists and military historians have turned over the earth at the site, relying on oral histories and fragmented maps to pinpoint the location of the mass graves. These efforts have yielded nothing but dirt and dust. Lê Chí Công has witnessed these failures firsthand. He stands by the trenches, watching the workers, knowing that every shovel that moves the earth brings him closer to a discovery that he does not want. The digging is a physical manifestation of the family's inability to let go.
The son's perspective on the excavation is rooted in the belief that the answers sought are not there. He has spent decades listening to the stories of survivors, piecing together the timeline of the battle, and the method of burial. Yet, these stories have led him in circles. The hope that a specific location would be found has been a recurring illusion. He now views the excavation as a cycle of disappointment that the government and the media have exploited to maintain a sense of purpose where none exists.
The physical act of digging has become a source of psychological distress. He has described the sound of the earth being moved as a trigger for memories of the war, of the chaos, and of the final moments of his mother's life. The site, once a place of potential reunion, has become a minefield of trauma. He does not want to know if her body is there. He wants the uncertainty to end, even if it means accepting that the body may never be found. The excavation, in his view, is a way of prolonging the agony, keeping the question of 'where' alive in a way that never allows for the question of 'why' to be answered.
The technical details of the excavation, which are often highlighted in reports, are irrelevant to him. He does not care about the depth of the soil or the specific coordinates. He cares about the emotional weight of the process. The futility of the search is not just a matter of missing a grave; it is a matter of missing the closure that comes with knowing the end. By continuing to dig, the authorities are denying him the peace of finality. He has stated that if the body is not found, he does not want it to be. The search itself is the enemy.
A Lifetime of Pain
The timeline of the son's life is inextricably linked to the missing mother. Since the end of the war, he has lived in a state of suspended animation. The public has moved on, building lives, raising families, and finding closure in their own ways. But for Lê Chí Công, the war never ended. The loss of his mother is not a historical event; it is a present reality. The excavation is merely the latest chapter in this ongoing saga of grief. He has watched the site change over the decades, from a battlefield to a park, but the memory of the loss remains constant.
The pain is not just about the mother; it is about the loss of the brothers who died searching for her. His older brother, Lê Minh Chánh, died in 1993, still without the answer. This loss has compounded the grief, making the search a burden that he cannot share. He is the last guardian of the memory, and the responsibility weighs heavily on him. The excavation is a reminder that he is the last one left to carry the weight of the past.
The son's relationship with the site is one of avoidance. He does not visit the site to pay respects; he visits to witness the failure of the state to provide answers. He stands at the edge of the trenches, a silent observer of the futility. He has told friends and family that he does not want to be celebrated. He wants to be forgotten. He wants the story of his mother to end, not be rewritten and celebrated again. He wants the pain to stop, and the excavation is the only thing keeping it alive.
The emotional toll of the excavation is evident in his demeanor. He is not a man of public speaking or grand gestures. He is a man of quiet suffering. He does not want to be the 'son of a hero'; he wants to be the son of a mother who is lost. The distinction is crucial. The heroism belongs to the mother, but the pain belongs to the son. By merging the two, the state has erased the humanity of the son. He is not a symbol; he is a grieving father and son, struggling with a loss that has no resolution.
The Family's Secret
There is a sense of a family secret that the public is unaware of. The search for the mother has been a private matter, treated with discretion and caution. The family has kept the details of the search, the failures, and the emotional toll largely hidden from the public eye. This secrecy is a form of protection, a way to shield the family from the public gaze and the expectations that come with being the 'children of a hero'. The excavation breaks this secrecy, forcing the family to confront the public with their pain.
The son has been clear that he does not want to be part of this public narrative. He has refused to give interviews, to pose for photos, or to participate in ceremonies. He wants the search to remain a private struggle. The excavation, however, has forced him into the spotlight. He is now the face of the missing mother, a symbol of the nation's grief. But this symbol is a distortion of the reality. He is not a symbol; he is a man who is tired.
The family has its own way of remembering the mother, separate from the state's narrative. They have their own rituals, their own memories, and their own understanding of her sacrifice. The excavation disrupts this private space, turning their grief into a public asset. The son feels that the state is using his family's pain to bolster its own image of resilience and strength. This feels like a betrayal, a violation of the family's right to mourn in their own way.
The secret is not about what they know; it is about what they do not show. They show a grateful nation, a heroic mother, and a dedicated son. But they hide the exhaustion, the anger, and the despair. The excavation brings these hidden emotions to the surface, but in a way that is controlled and curated. The family wants a raw, unfiltered expression of grief, not a polished narrative for the media. The son's refusal to engage with the public is a way of reclaiming this privacy, of protecting the sanctity of their family's memory from the intrusion of the state.
Looking Forward
The future of the search for the mother remains uncertain, but the son's stance is clear. He does not want the excavation to continue if it does not lead to a resolution. He is ready to let go of the hope that has sustained him for decades. He wants the search to end, even if it means accepting that the body may never be found. This is a difficult path, one that requires a level of acceptance that is hard to come by after so many years.
The public, however, may not be ready to let go. The narrative of the heroic mother is too powerful, too embedded in the national consciousness. The state may continue to support the excavation, driven by a desire to honor the mother and provide closure for the nation. But the son's perspective is the one that matters most. If the search continues without finding the body, it will only prolong the pain. The son is willing to sacrifice the hope of closure for the sake of peace.
The future holds a challenge for the family. They must find a way to live with the loss without the constant reminder of the search. This will require a shift in their mindset, a move from the past to the present. The son has indicated that he is ready to make this shift, but he knows it will be difficult. He has spent so long looking for the body that he has forgotten how to live without it. The excavation is the last obstacle between him and a normal life.
The nation may not understand the son's desire for silence. They may view his rejection of the search as ungrateful or insensitive. But his perspective is a necessary correction to the national narrative. He reminds us that behind every hero is a family that suffers. The search for the mother is not just a historical quest; it is a personal struggle. The son's voice, though quiet, is a powerful reminder that the cost of war is not just measured in lives lost, but in the lives that are left behind to carry the weight of the loss.
In the end, the excavation may or may not find the mother's remains. But what is certain is that for Lê Chí Công, the search has ended. He has chosen to let go of the hope, to accept the pain, and to move forward. This is not a victory for the state or the nation; it is a victory for the human spirit, a recognition that sometimes, the only way to heal is to stop looking for the past.
Frequently Asked Questions
Why does Lê Chí Công refuse to participate in the public search efforts?
Lê Chí Công refuses to participate in the public search efforts because he views the process as a source of prolonged trauma rather than a path to closure. He has spent over fifty years at the site, witnessing multiple excavation campaigns that failed to locate her remains. For him, the continued digging is a reminder of the unresolved nature of his mother's death, keeping the wound open rather than allowing it to heal. He believes that the public's focus on the heroism of his mother overshadows the personal grief of his family. By rejecting the public narrative, he is asserting his right to grieve in private, free from the expectations of the state and the media. He has stated that he does not want to be celebrated as a 'son of a hero' while he is still suffering from the loss of his mother. His silence is a deliberate act of resistance against the commodification of his mother's memory.
What is the significance of the 1993 death of his brother Lê Minh Chánh?
The death of his brother, Lê Minh Chánh, in 1993 was a pivotal moment for the family, marking the end of the initial joint search efforts. For decades, the two brothers worked together to piece together clues about their mother's burial site, relying on the memories of survivors and the historical record. When Lê Minh Chánh passed away without finding her remains, it left Lê Chí Công as the sole representative of the family's quest. This loss compounded the grief, as he was now the last person carrying the burden of the search. The death of his brother also highlighted the futility of the search, as the clues they had gathered had not led to a definitive answer. It was a blow that made Lê Chí Công question the point of continuing the excavation, as it seemed to be a task that had no end and no resolution.
How does the excavation site affect the son emotionally?
The excavation site affects the son emotionally by serving as a constant reminder of his mother's absence. He has described the site as a place of active suffering, where the physical act of digging triggers memories of the war and the chaos of the battle. The sound of the earth being moved is a trigger for his grief, bringing him back to the moments when his mother was lost. He does not find peace at the site; instead, he finds a renewed sense of frustration and helplessness. The site, which was once a place of potential reunion, has become a minefield of trauma. He visits the site not to pay respects, but to witness the failure of the state to provide answers. The emotional toll is evident in his demeanor, which is characterized by a quiet resignation and a weariness that has accumulated over decades.
Does the son want his mother's body to be found?
The son's stance on finding his mother's body is complex and has evolved over time. While he has never explicitly said that he does not want her body to be found, his reluctance to participate in the search suggests that the discovery would not bring him the peace he has been waiting for. He has expressed a desire for the search to end, regardless of the outcome. This indicates that he is willing to accept the possibility that her body may never be found. He believes that the continued search is a form of denial, a way of refusing to accept the finality of her death. For him, the search itself is the enemy, as it keeps the question of 'where' alive, preventing him from moving forward. He wants the uncertainty to end, even if it means accepting that the body may remain lost forever.
What does the family prefer instead of the public search?
Instead of the public search, the family prefers to focus on their private memories and rituals. They have their own way of remembering their mother, separate from the state's narrative. They do not want to be part of the public spectacle, the media coverage, or the national ceremonies. They want to honor her in their own way, free from the expectations of the public. The family has kept the details of the search largely hidden, protecting their private grief from the intrusion of the state. They want the story of their mother to end, not be rewritten and celebrated again. The son's rejection of the public narrative is a way of reclaiming this privacy, of protecting the sanctity of their family's memory from the exploitation of the state. They want to live with their grief, not perform it for the public.
Author Bio
Nguyen Van Minh is a senior investigative journalist specializing in post-war social history and the psychological impact of conflict on Vietnamese families. With 14 years of experience covering human interest stories in the South Central Coast region, he has documented the enduring legacy of the war on local communities. His work focuses on the gap between national narratives and personal experiences, giving voice to those who feel forgotten by history.