I visit Mum's grave in Melbourne whenever I am in town and have car to drive out west to lay flowers and pray to her. Mum was never big on flowers, but leaving food there to rot is against the rules and also just wrong. The memorial garden is peaceful and well-maintained. Flowers that begin to die are removed by the groundskeepers so the cemetery is kept nice and fresh for grieving visitors.

I make the trip and lay the flowers to show my respects, but I don't feel connected to Mum in the graveyard. I feel connected to her when I find myself standing with my hand on my hip while I stir food in the stove like she used to. I feel connected when I wash my face in the morning and glimpse myself in the mirror looking like Mum Pham - except that she looks a bit blind because she can't see much when she takes her glasses off to wash her face, whereas my LASIK laser eyes are tired from not enough sleep.

I feel connected to Mum on Mother's Day when we celebrate with Dad Pham because it always falls near his birthday. This year it happened to be his birthday. We celebrated by making Dad one of his favourite dishes - bánh cuốn. But then because he'd spent his morning mopping the kitchen for Phamly feast, he was fast asleep before we got to dessert. That's OK, I'll be back this weekend for our tradition of sleepovers, and 5am wake up calls for the Eurovision Finale.