What I need is someone who will make me do what I can.
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
Happy Mother’s Day to every woman out there who fills that role, in any capacity. Who opens her arms and her heart to nurture another life.
I wrote the following tribute to my own mother a few years ago, and I publish it again today to remind everyone to really remember to listen to your parent’s stories, if you’re lucky enough to still have them here with you; and to rectify any grievances before that chance is gone.
Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are difficult, when your parents are gone, a million times more so when you are filled with “if only…”
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Happy Mother’s Day, Mom
This was my mother, sometime in the early 1970s, in her native Vietnam. She was about 36 years old- she was always sketchy about her age, but also proud of being “so old” (and not looking it).
They don’t celebrate birthdays, apparently, in Vietnam as we do here; nor is age such an important part of one’s identity. Simply put, there are the young and the old; the young are to be envied, and the old to be respected.
Marriage, in Vietnam at that time, was also not as we find it here in the US of A. If a man showed his preference for you, and you lived together, you were considered married. Marriage was not a legal state, as it is here.
My mother found herself married at a reasonably young age and bore three children. Her only daughter died young, of cancer.
Her husband left her. I do not know the reason. I do know that this left her in a state of disgrace in her village, a mother without a husband. She was shamed into leaving her children with her sister, who was respectably married, so that they would grow up in a proper family. She was told to go and work in the city, to pay for the upbringing of these two remaining children, my half-brothers.
Somewhere around this point on the timeline, my mother met my father, stationed in Saigon. I know nothing of their courtship. I know that my mother thought my father was “so handsome.” I remember my father saying that when he first saw my mother, she was wielding a machete. The place? The year? The circumstance?
I don’t know. It is so frustrating.
I know that my father pledged that he would bring her to this country and they would be married here. What was that like for her, the waiting? Did she trust in his word? Did she continually hope? I would have guessed that she would have little trust in men, or their promises.
My father returned to this country to find all his belongings gone, sold, and no room for him in his mother’s and stepfather’s house. Somehow he found a place to stay, a job. He saved money for some amount of time— again, the anger of not knowing how long— and secured the papers needed to bring my mother here. She boarded a plane, missed her connection in Los Angeles— what happened then? What was that like, to be in such an alien place, speaking virtually none of the language? How did she get to the East Coast?
Somehow, she did.
Somehow, this woman survived in a culture of fear, of violence, of war. She saw things, as a child, that no one should ever have to see. Never. I really don’t even like to think about it. But the images are horrific and vivid; they skitter on the periphery of my memory, along with the strange, blank tone of voice that she would use when speaking of them.
She was so proud of her third-grade education; no other girl in her village made it so far in school. She was the smart one.
When there was nothing to eat, she swam across the river and stole two fish from the village there, swimming back with the fish balanced precariously on her head. She was brave and wild.
She put her faith and trust in a young American— barely more than a boy, more than a decade younger than herself— and traveled here, alone, to a land of peace and freedom, half a world away.
I don’t know that she found freedom or peace here. Where she was once imprisoned by violence and gender bias, she now found herself shunned for her ethnicity, her lack of education, her heavy accent.
She had not understood how far America was, had not known just how big the world was, had not realized that she would not be able to ever see her family, her children that she had left behind. She lived in a constant state of guilt and worry.
My father worked long hours at multiple jobs. She had few friends. She was often alone.
Then I was born, and nearly seven years later, my brother. We misunderstood her, were embarassed by her. We did not see how fortunate we were, in comparison to her other children. I think she was often angered by that.
She was not perfect. Growing up where she did, when she did, a culture and a time so vastly different to my own, she had issues and neuroses I can’t even begin to tease out or understand. She had a hot temper. She was prone to violent outbursts. She was incredibly fearful and overprotective. She understood our problems and issues and hopes as little as we understood hers.
Guess what— turns out I am not perfect either. Hopefully this is a fatal flaw that my children will overlook in me.
“Endeavor to be patient in bearing the defects and infirmities of others,
of what sort soever they be;for thou thyself also hast many failings
which must be borne with by others.”-Thomas A Kempis
I wish that I had asked more questions.
I wish that I had said some things, and left other things unsaid.
I wish you could be here, that my children could remember you, that you could see how special they are.
So much of who I am, I am because of you. The good and the bad.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I miss you.
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Every year I share my mom’s story with my kids and my internet family on Mother’s Day, to keep it alive. Each year it hurts a little less. One day I’ll be ready to tell more of it.
However, when I migrated from my old blog to this one I lost all my old comments. If my mom’s story touched you, will you please let me know? It would mean a lot.
What a beautiful story, thanks for sharing with us Robin.
Thank you for reading & commenting, Aparna.
Your mother’s story is incredible Robin. I can’t imagine having two completely different lives or making my way in an alien culture at such a tumultuous time. No doubt her strength is in you and will be in your children.
Thanks for reading and commenting, Rebecca. My mother and I had a very difficult relationship but I have always been overwhelmed by her bravery. I don’t even like to walk into a party alone.
This kills me every time I read it. I remember the first time I read it on the old blog. This isn’t a post you can forget. Particularly since I had an opportunity to meet your mother.
Thanks for reading it again.
This is an incredible story. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for reading & commenting. Somehow, it’s important for me to show my kids that my mom’s story was extraordinary.
Robin,
This is really touching. I remember your mom really well. Her story is so interesting. I enjoyed reading it.
Thanks, Lisa. I’m touched that you read it and commented. It’s nice to hear from you.
Beautiful and inspiring story, Robin. Thank you so much for sharing it.
Thanks for reading & commenting, Mary. I appreciate it.
Robin,
Happy Mother’s Day.
Ellen shared with me the prvilege of reading your mother’s story. I am overcome with admiration for her strength and courage.
You may remember Ellen and I came to your house for dinner when you and Lisa were at Padua. I remember both your mother and father as warm and friendly people. They shared their story with us and we came away feeling really honored by that special gift.
I am something of a family historian, myself and I am impressed by the precious nature of your mother’s experiences and the fact that you were able to capture them so eloquently. Your reminiscences are really part of our history. I hope you will share them with the widest possible audience.
Best Wishes,
Dave Tannenbaum
Mr. Tannenbaum, that was such a significant event for me; your family was always so wonderful to me. I was so pleased to introduce you to my parents and vice versa.
I’m overwhelmed by your kind & supportive comment. Thank you.
Happy Mother’s Day to you Robin.
I know I have read this story before but it really hits me hard reading it again. I am sure you mom is very happy to have a daughter like you who is trying to tell her story, piece by piece. I really enjoy the photos that go along with the story and similar to the other comments above, I want to know more about her and her life. I know it would be hard for you but have you ever thought of going to Vietnam to find other family members and to learn more about your mom’s story from them?
I hope the kids (and Jeff) treated you like royalty today!
Molly
Thanks for reading (again) and commenting, Molly. Happy Mother’s Day to you 🙂
I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to go to Vietnam, it was so painful for my mom when she went back. I don’t know that I’d be able to track any family down. She burned everything after my dad died.
As soon as I saw the link to this on FB, I knew I wanted to (had to) read this again. I remember when you first published it and it is just as powerful now.
I never had the privilege of meeting your mother, but I am guessing she would be very, very proud of you and her grandchildren.
Melissa, I’m blown away by the fact that we’ve been internet friends for over 3 years! Thank you for your support (and multiple readings). Happy Mother’s Day.
Hi Robin,
I hope that you had a happy Mother’s Day. You made my day better by sharing this story. I remember your mother well, although I saw her only a few times. She was so hospitable and friendly to our family. I will never forget the delicious “roast turkey with all of the trimmings” that she cooked for us.
Your mother’s spirit is shining through in you.
Take care,
Ellen Tannenbaum
You Tannenbaums are making me cry today. Thank you for your kind words and support, today and in years past.
Robin,
Thank you for sharing this story. It brought a tear to my eye. I have no doubt your mom is proud of the who you are today. You’re passing down her legacy. How could she not be smiling?
Thanks, Chris. She was proud of her story. She would love to see all these comments.
I hope you will share more. You mother sounds like an amazing risk-taker and so very brave! It’s hard to see things in hindsight because we can’t change them. But learning from our parents is a huge step in learning how to BE parents. Your kids are very fortunate to have someone so thoughtful caring for them. Happy Mother’s Day!
Thank you! Your story and your mother’s story are incredible. I’m so glad that I clicked over to read it, even though I find it difficult at times to read stories about mothers.
I’m in tears. Beautiful story, Robin.
Your mother must have been an extraordinary woman. I’m sorry that you didn’t have her around long enough to have your questions answered.
Thanks for sharing your Mom’s story!
This is an incredible story. I know it would be hard for you but have you ever thought of going to Vietnam to find other family members and to learn more about your mom’s story from them? She was so hospitable and friendly to our family.
Oh Robin this is amazing.
your writing
her story
the palpable love and longing.
Im sending my own mother here.
xo
Thank you. She would have loved knowing her story still provokes a response, after all this time.
Was your dad able to fill in some of your mom’s story for you? Sure sounds like he has his own tales to tell. What a different mom he had who basically kicked him and his stuff out. Your mom was overprotective, but his seems to have abandoned him. Did you ever meet your half siblings?
This was such a touching story. Mother-daughter relationships are so foreign and complex to me. I never got to know my mom, she died when I was two months old. I think despite all the differences and disagreements parents will always love you, and know that you love them too. I wish you could have had more time with her to ask questions and smooth out hardships. <3
Robin, it is always amazing to me, people that you know, but you don’t know. Your story is haunting, and thank you for sharing it. What a brave woman your mom was, and what a brave woman you are for seeing her for who she really was and who she wanted to be. Makes me want to hug my mom a little bit tighter next time I see her.
Your mother’s story and your relationship with her remind me of my own. My mother is also an immigrant that came to this country and still harbors some fear. I’ve been embarrassed by many things she did or didn’t do (like learn English) or outburst,etc. Now that I’m older I feel entirely different. I often feel sad, hopeless for her and guilty because I don’t know what to do to bring her out of her isolation. She was never the type to open up about her feelings, but I can’t help but sense that this is not the life she imagined. I’ve probably said too much but I just wanted to let you know that I understand. Thank you for sharing this post. It makes me feel like I’m not alone in wanting to reach out and understand my mom. Luckily I still have time to figure out the best way to do so.
I love that you shared you this. I hope people can read it and feel like judging less, you just never know why or how a person arrives at who they are and do the things they do. Sometimes knowing makes it easier to accept the flaws and be more understanding.
What a wonderful story. Your mom was a wonderful lady.
Thank you. This is incredibly moving to read. Happy mother’s day!
Robin, this story is so touching and I can still feel the emotion in your words. Your mother is somewhere looking down on you with a happy grin because lucky for her she has you to carry on her legacy and to love her forever unconditionally. I’m sure you were one of her greatest blessings in life.
What a beautiful tribute, Robin. Thank you for sharing your mother’s story, and imparting such important lessons. I was thinking recently about the questions I wish I would have asked my elders and couldn’t help but be so moved by this post.
What a beautiful post. Families mean so much and yet they are the ones that we so often hurt and disrespect the worst. Thank you for reminding me to love my mom and her quirks every day.
This story is very beautifully and touchingly told, and it was brave of you to tell it. Thanks for sharing it–good idea to repeat it for those of us who missed it the first time around. It deserves a wider audience.
This is beautiful. Thanks for sharing. This reminded me to treasure my Mom while I still have to opportunity to do so. Thanks for the reminder.
Robin,
I love this story because I did know your mom all of those years we were in school together (both grade school and high school). I never really knew her story, so thank you so much for sharing….it is an amazing one. I have to share a solid memory I have of your mom that I may have told you before but I will tell again. It was your birthday and you were having a party after school that day. We were probably in 3rd or 4th grade and while walking to your house I was stung by a bee on my palm. I was really scared and upset. Your mom, never thinking twice, pulled me aside and removed the stinger from my hand with her teeth-something that would probably never happen in today’s world! I am sure it was something she had learned long ago and it worked. Looking back, it strikes me of how selfless moms really are and how your mom thought nothing of doing something like that to help me. Hope you enjoy your Mother’s Day and cherish the memories of your mom.-Roseann
Wow, what a story and what a reminder for us to not take things for granted. I’m adopted, and I cherish every single day – but especially Mother’s Day – the mother who made a tough choice for me and the mother who was there with open arms to receive me.
Very beautiful story and remembrances of your Mother. Sending hugs this Mother’s Day.