In 1987, a raw-boned young man with no home or memory of his relatives, was seen lingering daily at Cho Moi Market in An Giang province. Locals shared food to help him get by. 

Meeting the man, Tran Van My from Tan My commune in Cho Moi district didn’t pry or ask questions, but moved by compassion he brought the stranger home, starting a bond of care that lasted nearly four decades.

At that time, Huynh Thi Hang, My’s wife, couldn’t understand why her husband brought a stranger home. Yet, seeing the young man tremble with malaria and lost eyes as if unmoored from life, she softened. They named him “Tong”, the eighth foster child in their poor family.

Scattered memories

Tong said he was a soldier fighting in Cambodia. But he could not give answers to the questions about his unit, hometown, and family. Only bouts of malaria and fractured memories remained.

He lived quietly for years, tending cattle, taking odd jobs, and aiding his foster family. Once he got lost, the whole family rushed to look for him, and his sisters cried because they were afraid he was missing.

My tried many times to secure Tong an ID or add him to the household registry, but with no proof of his past, it was an impossible mission.

As siblings grew up, wed, and built their own lives, Tong stayed unmarried, by the side of his foster parents and a single uncle. When My died, Tong wandered in a fog of grief for months.

In My’s children and grandkids’ thoughts, “Uncle Tong” was hardworking, neat, loyal, and diligent in honoring his late foster father’s altar.

Some years ago, the uncle passed, and Hang left for BinhDuong where she found a job. Tong has lived alone, troubling no one, even saving his small wages to send to grandkids far away. Without ID or a name in the registry, he was still family, woven into their hearts.

Time wore on, and memories thought gone forever suddenly rushed back. In early April 2025, Tong murmured, “My name’s Nguyen The Long. Home’s by the sea. In Quang Hai commune, Quang Xuong district, Thanh Hoa province. My mom’s Cuc, brother’s Kim.”

Tracing roots

Minh Vuong, a 19-year-old foster grandson, leapt into action after hearing the words. He searched for information on the internet, messaged Quang Hai commune police, and got a reply from Hoang Chien, the police chief. The videos from Minh Vuong were useful. The police checked the video and found valuable information. The curtain of memory gradually fit each detail.

Hoang Chien, Quang Hai commune police chief, told VietNamNet: “It’s all true. I verified Nguyen The Long’s ‘martyr’ status myself and advised the commune chair to arrange a family reunion.”

Chien said Long, born in 1959, joined the army in 1976, fighting in Cambodia. In February 1980, a death notice marked him as fallen.

The Hai, 41, son of Long’s eldest brother, living in Hanoi, choked up confirming it was his uncle. His family had kept an altar and hunted for Long’s grave, unaware he was alive, working odd jobs, and tending his foster father’s memory in a distant southern area.

The Hai said his family members, from Thanh Hoa, Hanoi, and HCM City hurried to An Giang after being informed about Long. They came to see Long’s foster mother in Binh Duong, and together visited the place where he’d lived for 38 years as a man without a past. Tears mingled with smiles in their reunion.

Long’s memory has returned. Now, Long remembers every corner of his old village, each post and each tree. Asked if he wants to go back, he sometimes nods, sometimes says, “Maybe on Tet holiday.” To him, home is wherever love binds.

Long’s near 40-year journey has been more than a soldier’s return. It is proof of the stubborn strength of human kindness, family, and patience. This is really a happy ending story which shows the bond of the people with the same blood and the love of humans.

Long will gain ID papers, a pension, and relatives, who mourned him as lost. Above all, he has a second home—wherever he goes or stays, he’s family.

Minh Vuong, Long’s foster grandson, says the An Giang clan joined Long to reunite with his Thanh Hoa relatives after 45 years apart.

Y Nhuy