A mother’s loss.
In the passed year, I’ve been focusing on myself and keeping busy with school, work and social outings to break the stress. I haven’t really been around family until lately, before quarantine happened. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed hanging out with my siblings. We don’t always get along, but I love them to the end of this earth. Last week, I went to see my parents for my mothers 67th birthday. For the time that I got to see her, I noticed how much she has aged from when I last lived with her. When I got home, I began to feel so angry with myself. I have accomplished so much from the time I’ve kept myself away but I regret not seeing my parents as much as I could have.
A little bit of a background for you, my parents came to America in the midst of the ending of the Vietnam War. Before that, my father was recruited by the United States Army to fight against the Vietnam-communists. He was barely 12 years old, holding a military rifle almost his height. My mother lost her first twin children, one boy and one girl. I’ve only heard her talk about this 3x in my life. On my visit to see my mother last week, she told me about a shaman that she and my little sister went to see. The shaman brand new to our family, knows nothing about us. She asked my mother if she had lost any children, maybe 2. My mother said yes. Unbeknownst to her, the shaman said there are 2 infant spirits in front of her. She informed my mother that they have been looking for her for a very long time. Over 50 years, they have been lost... Her twins had found their way back to our mother thanks to my little sister’s spirit guides. My mother goes on to tell me how the shaman sent her twin babies free by carrying them on a Dai Nyia into the land of peace (“heaven”). I watched my mothers lips tremble slightly as she tried hard to keep herself from showing the deep emotions she’s held onto for so long. I patted her on her shoulder and told her I was happy that they are finally at peace. I couldn’t help but feel this heaviness in my heart, as if I took on my mother’s loss.
When I got home that day, I began to reflect on our conversation. I reminisced about all the stories my parents have told me over the years. Little did I know how much these stories resonated deep within their own experiences and emotions. I will never know the trauma my parents experienced during the Vietnam War and their final escape to America, but one thing I will always keep in my mind is their never ending love for us. Folks, love your parents. You’re all they have in this life.