The Name That Carried Grandfather Home
True Account
The Name That Carried Grandfather Home
Namo Amitabha Buddha. I am Fojun, and I would like to share with you the story of my grandfather's rebirth in the Pure Land. My grandfather passed away on 18 July 2026, at the age of ninety.
My grandfather's surname was Yap. He never took refuge in the Three Jewels, and he understood little of the Dharma. During the pandemic, a relative of ours who had taken up Buddhism and Buddha-name recitation years earlier bought some recitation counters online. There were a few extra ones, so she casually gave one to Grandfather, hoping that he would recite "Namo Amitabha Buddha" whenever he had time. Later, the family also taught Grandfather to count his recitations with grains of rice—one grain for each recitation—but Grandfather would always grab a whole handful of rice for just one recitation of the Buddha's name. He did recite now and then, though not much; most of the time he watched television, read the newspapers, and napped, living a simple, quiet life. And just like that, a single phrase—"Namo Amitabha Buddha"—quietly planted wholesome roots in Grandfather's life.
From 25 November 2025, Grandfather's health began to decline: his legs gradually weakened until he could no longer walk properly, and his spirits grew weaker too—he was often drowsy and sleepy. Throughout this period, we never forgot to keep him close to the Buddha's name. Every day we played the recitation player given to us by the Dharma center, so that he could hear the Buddha's name continually; we also hung a sacred image of Amitabha Buddha in his room, so that he could behold the Buddha's countenance at any time.
Later, my father came back from Singapore especially to care for Grandfather. To our surprise, under Father's attentive care, Grandfather's health slowly recovered: his spirits lifted greatly, he could walk slowly with a walking stick, and he could communicate and chat with the family as usual. This continued into 2026.
On 30 June 2026, I returned from Kuala Lumpur to my hometown, Ipoh, to visit Grandfather. I found that the swelling, once only in his feet, had now spread to his hands as well. The family understood that Grandfather's body was slowly declining, but everyone continued to accompany him in reciting the Buddha's name and kept the recitation playing, hoping that Grandfather could hear the name of Amitabha Buddha at all times. The recitation player never left his hand—twenty-four hours a day, it was always with him.
Around ten o'clock on the night of Wednesday, 15 July 2026, I suddenly received a call from my mother. She told me that in the afternoon, while walking about the house on his own, Grandfather had fallen and hit his head badly—there was heavy bleeding, and the family had rushed him to the hospital at once. Early the next morning I hurried back to Ipoh, and only at the hospital did I learn that the fall had left a gash nearly three centimeters deep in Grandfather's head.
Yet what surprised us even more was this: when the family asked Grandfather, "Does it hurt? Do you feel unwell anywhere?" Grandfather replied calmly, "It doesn't hurt." He even asked us in return, "Why am I in the hospital?"—it turned out he did not even know that he had fallen. Whenever I think back on this scene, I feel deeply the compassionate care of Amitabha Buddha. For a ninety-year-old man to fall so badly—Mother said that after the fall, blood had covered the floor around his head—he should have been in tremendous pain; yet he felt almost none, and his heart remained calm and at ease.
During his stay in the hospital, my family and I took turns keeping watch by his side. We recited the Buddha's name continually and kept the recitation player on, so that the sound of "Namo Amitabha Buddha" filled the ward at all times.
The night before, Grandfather had told me he wanted to eat ice cream. Who could have known that at 9:50 the next morning—Saturday, 18 July 2026—when I brought his breakfast to the hospital as usual, I would find him completely unresponsive. I immediately alerted Mother and the nurses, and the doctor confirmed that Grandfather had passed away peacefully. It was a large open ward, with patients and beds all around, yet not a single person had noticed anything—so gentle was his passing that there had not been even the slightest struggle. When I later reported this to the Master, he said, "Your grandfather passed away peacefully of old age, at the end of a full life. In this day and age, that is a special blessing indeed."
As soon as I learned that Grandfather had passed away, I played for him the Master's "end-of-life Dharma teaching for the departed" recorded in the recitation player, and then recited the Buddha's name at his side while waiting for Mother and the other relatives to arrive. After that, I contacted the Pure Land Dharma center in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, to request Dharma services for the deceased; the Master compassionately agreed, and arranged for a Dharma master and volunteers to come and lead the service, reciting the Buddha's name on Grandfather's behalf.
Later, the hospital arranged for me to accompany the ambulance taking Grandfather's body to the mortuary. When we arrived, I could go no further, so I placed a recitation player beside him. The ambulance staff saw it and did not object; they wheeled Grandfather in together with the player. I believe that, unseen and unknown, the Buddha's name has thus formed a bond with the other departed ones resting there.
At one o'clock that afternoon, staff from the funeral home came to bathe Grandfather, change his clothes, and prepare him for the wake. In the course of their work, they were astonished to find that Grandfather's entire body was still soft and supple. For a ninety-year-old man, hours after passing, to remain so soft and natural—even these professionals, who had seen so many departed, found it hard to believe.
After Grandfather's body was brought home, the Dharma master and volunteers from the Dharma center arrived, leading our whole family in assisted recitation for Grandfather. The service was solemn and conducted in accordance with the Dharma. That day, more than forty family members, relatives and friends took part, reciting "Namo Amitabha Buddha" together to send Grandfather to the Western Pure Land. Kuala Lumpur is in fact a long way from Ipoh, but bound by the affinity of fellow lotus friends, everyone was glad to do their part, offering him their most sincere blessings through the Buddha's name.
On Tuesday, the day of the funeral, our relatives came one by one before the casket to look upon Grandfather for the last time. What most of them saw was Grandfather with his mouth naturally closed, his expression peaceful. Wondrously, what I and one other relative saw was something entirely different—we saw Grandfather wearing a radiant smile, his mouth slightly open, his teeth showing, his whole face filled with joy and ease. In that moment, there was no fear in our hearts, and no sorrow—only overflowing gratitude.
I deeply believe that Grandfather has followed Amitabha Buddha to rebirth in the Pure Land, forever leaving behind all the sufferings of this world. All the toil, sickness and helplessness of this life have come to a perfect close. In Amitabha's Land of Bliss, we will surely meet again.
None of this was mere coincidence. If not for the compassionate care of Amitabha Buddha, how could a ninety-year-old man, after so severe a head injury, have walked the last stretch of his life so calmly and peacefully? Grandfather was not a man who studied the Dharma deeply, nor one who recited the Buddha's name diligently every day. He simply, through certain conditions, came into contact with this phrase, "Namo Amitabha Buddha"—reciting it now and then, hearing it day after day. Yet it was this very name that kept him always within the compassionate embrace of Amitabha Buddha.
Namo Amitabha Buddha
With palms joined, Fojun
A Note from Master Jingben
What moves me most in this sharing is how utterly ordinary Elder Yap was. He never took refuge, understood little of the teachings, and did not recite much—a whole handful of rice for a single recitation. Measured by practice, it hardly amounts to anything; and yet at the end he felt little pain, passed away without anyone noticing, his body soft, his face at ease. This tells us the most essential truth of the Pure Land gate: rebirth is not something we earn by practicing well enough; it is the natural working of Amitabha's Fundamental Vow. Whenever a being forms a bond with the Name, the Buddha's light embraces him and never forsakes him.
This sharing also sets an example for all who are sons, daughters and grandchildren. What the family did for the old man was to build an environment where the Buddha's name was always present: a recitation counter given into his hands, a sacred image hung in his room, a recitation player kept on—so that "Namo Amitabha Buddha" was ever in his ears. Afterwards I also praised Fojun: at the moment of Grandfather Yap's passing, she was the only family member at the hospital. Had this reciter of the Buddha's name not been right there, keeping the recitation flowing, how could there have been so excellent a condition at his life's end? There is no greater filial devotion than this—to care for our parents in life is filial; to see them to rebirth in the Pure Land is the greatest filial devotion of all.
May all who see and hear this account form a bond with this Name, as Elder Yap did—hearing it often, reciting it gladly, protected by the Buddha's light in this life, and reborn in the Pure Land at its end. Namo Amitabha Buddha.
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