Colors of Roses

Published: September 15, 2026 • 5 min read

During the Vu Lan festival, a rose is pinned over our heart. 

A red rose symbolizes the blessing of having living parents. A white rose—a noble emblem of purity—reminds those who wear it that their parents, after departing, still remain present within their very body and breath. Sometimes, a pink rose is pinned for those who have one living parent, or simply used in place of red. Yet the most tearful moments come from those receiving a fresh white rose. 

Vu Lan is a Buddhist ceremony celebrated on the 15th day of the seventh lunar month, dedicated to filial piety. Because its core message of honoring the sacrifices of living and deceased parents resonates with everyone regardless of faith, Vu Lan is embraced not only by Buddhists, but also adopted by other local traditions. It is not just for Vietnamese people, but shared around the world.

* * *

Suddenly, I found myself reflecting on diary entries from past Vu Lan seasons: 

Those were unforgettable, peaceful moments when we studied the Sutra on Measuring and Reflecting, learning how to reflect deeply for the greatest insight, and the Sutra on the Extermination of Anger, coming to understand how to handle challenging situations. Back then, we were taught to recognize millions of causes and conditions arising from a single sprig of cilantro during a monastic meal. Setting down our chopsticks, we suddenly realized why we must learn gratitude. 

Somewhere, a shining example of filial piety strove throughout life to be worthy of their parents. Though knowing they could never repay the debt of birth and upbringing, that child still nurtured a dream—walking the path to the very end through sheer dedication, all to fulfill one quiet promise: to become a source of pride for their parents. That child did not wait until losing their parents to startle into tears, realizing that “rivers flow away, never to return...”¹

When Vu Lan arrives, I see devoted mothers working tirelessly to provide their children with food and clothing. As their children grow, mothers strive to send them through school to cultivate knowledge, ensuring they can build a career and advance in life. They guide their children toward a moral and spiritual foundation, equipping them to step into the world with strength and confidence. What does a mother endure a lifetime of hardship for? She asks for nothing more than her child’s success and happiness—that alone is the ultimate reward of her life. 

Beside her, I have glimpsed a father’s love—quiet and profound, shielding his child from life’s storms. Fathers are diamonds tested in every fire; they are radiant suns, lighting up the path to their children’s happiness. A father may be strict, yet he fiercely yearns for his child to stand equal to others—he is the gust of wind lifting his child high into the sky.² 

When Vu Lan arrives, I see grieving spouses facing the sudden loss of a partner… Is there any loss of a loved one that does not feel sudden? Yet, they courageously care for their children and pour their love into charity. It is as if that departure becomes the very strength sustaining an enduring love in the ones left behind. 

At today’s Rose Pinning Ceremony, I see the heavy hearts, regrets, torments, and quiet anguish of grieving children whose parents passed away before their dreams could be realized—leaving these children with no further chance to care for their parents or repay their debt of gratitude. The loss is overwhelming when life loses its sweetness, its “capital of love”—like “a night sky missing its stars,” or “a torch lost in the dark.” ³ The warm embrace of a mother—the only miraculous love and steady haven in joy, sorrow, or failure—is gone.

I see an elderly mother who, after many long years of devotedly raising her children, now sits lonely and abandoned in a nursing home, gazing out with vacant, indifferent eyes as her life fades into the past.

I also see a child who still has the precious chance to sit beside their aging mother during long nights in a hospital bed, sobbing and asking for forgiveness for foolish quarrels over nothing—for all the times they caused her heartache and worry, for all the tears she shed over their stubbornness, indifference, and pride, for all the times they pierced her heart by chasing foolish illusions and empty dreams. Yet deep down, they always knew: “If true love exists in this world, it is the love of a mother.”⁴ 

* * *

As the Vu Lan season returns, I remember days of illness when I was struggling to eat or fall asleep. Yet my heart felt warm and full, sustained by the loving care of my parents, venerable teachers, family, and friends through visits, phone calls, and prayers. How few realize that our parents and teachers often bear immense physical suffering themselves, yet a gentle, boundless, and compassionate smile always rests upon their lips? 

I see little children walking happily to school with their parents in the morning, only for a tsunami to sweep through and tear their family apart. For days, the children sit waiting, eyes fixed on the school gates, unable to comprehend that their parents will never return. Once a mother is lost, “innocence departs from life.” ⁴ 

At today’s Rose Pinning Ceremony, I find myself startled by a sudden thought: “Today, I may still have a red rose pinned upon my chest in boundlessly happy gratitude because my parents are still here. But who can assure me that in future Vu Lan seasons, ‘a red rose will still grace my chest’?” Because of the Law of Impermanence, even in my happiest moments, anxiety lingers in my heart. I fear that tomorrow, when “life’s greatest misfortune” strikes suddenly and unexpectedly, I will have to bear the endless pain of being orphaned all alone—“starved for a parent’s love.” ⁴ No matter how much I try to imagine it, I know I cannot truly comprehend even a tiny fraction of that agony. 

When Vu Lan arrives, I see lost, bewildered children drifting through the bustling current of life like “flowers without a sun,” never having known a “gentle stream” or a “fairy lullaby.” ⁴ They steal glances at other children pouting or asking for treats in the loving warmth of their mothers, never daring to ask why such warmth will never be theirs. How few truly realize the profound sorrow of being orphaned?

This Vu Lan, I see tears fall—whether out of lingering worldly attachments or quiet joy for a sacred path—as a mother and child bid farewell, one stepping forward to embrace the monastic life. 

And I see a child for whom a mother exists only as a memory, yet that memory provides strength and willpower enough to seek the Mother of Compassion and Wisdom—the all-encompassing universal nature. That child constantly feels her presence through every trial and hardship, even if she is now just a small spirit tablet tucked into the luggage of a wanderer far from home. Sustained by that memory, the child succeeds in life: “A mother’s love nurtured the spirit of the practitioner”; “A mother’s warmth shaped me into a person of purpose. I grew up in her love and matured in the resolve to repay her grace. Mother is present in every evening bell and morning drum, in the rising and falling cadences of daily chanting. Mother is meditation in a state of non-attachment...” ⁴ 

* * *

I would rather stop here. Yet the tears of those wearing a fresh white rose are still wet under the summer sunlight. Wearing a white rose is far better than having one laid upon a casket. I see a child too small to wear a white rose, while a rose rested upon the casket of his mother—my sister. That was very long ago, yet it remains painfully vivid.

While I am writing these last lines, my father is entering in-home hospice. By the time this column is published—when you read it—I am not sure if I can still wear a bright red rose. As the saddest moment approaches on the horizon, all sense of preparedness seems to vanish. I don’t know how strong I will be in those moments.

My father means so much to my life. He is a father who makes me feel truly proud—the father a daughter could only dream of. Having him in my life has been my greatest fortune. 

In bringing our family to America, his profound, immense sacrifices gave us every opportunity, transforming our lives completely. He gave us a foundation to thrive, build, and stand strong. He gave me a future far greater than I ever imagined—a wealth of love and wisdom I never dared to dream of. He is, and always will be, the greatest blessing in my life. 

* * *

And so, at today’s Rose Pinning Ceremony, I find myself returning to discover a little more of who I truly am. I touch deeply the truth of interdependent origination—that nothing exists in isolation, but through an endless, overlapping web where all causes and conditions shape one another—and I feel truly alive in this present moment.

In this moment, let us respectfully pin a Vu Lan rose upon one another’s chest.