Story 3 of the 'Thinking Allowed' series
Written by MEGAN TAN
“Mama, next stop.”
Cindy slightly nudges her mom to get her attention. It’s been almost an hour since they landed, but her mom’s head was still in the clouds. To be fair, when it came to things other than work, her mom was what you would call scatterbrained. She singehandly disproves the stereotype that moms can find anything. She’s the type to accidentally lose something while looking for something else. Cindy’s unofficial official jobs were to be her mom’s password keeper and to find whatever her mom needed, and keep track of everything. Her mom didn’t do maps or directions if she could help it. Same thing applies to technology. All she knew and all she needed to know was how WeChat works and how to access YouTube to watch her funny compilation videos and blast her classic Chinese songs on full volume. Whenever they left a public space, Cindy was the one looking back to see if they left anything behind, while her mom was already halfway out the door. Cindy couldn’t even count the number of times she had to grab her mom’s sunglasses that were left behind. Cindy also had to keep track of time. If they happen to pass by one of her mom’s friends on the streets, Cindy knew her mom could talk to them for hours. Her mom was always the last out the door and Cindy always had to remind her of the time. This was exactly what happened when they were leaving for the airport. She was telling her mom that they were going to miss their flight, but her mom just said to not rush her. They almost always made it just in time and her mom would always tell her so and also not to rush her next time. Yes they might have made it, but back at home, Cindy would be there helping her mom get ready and out the door. She would be on the other side, helping her mom put in one of her earrings. And she would be there holding out her mom’s jacket, helping her quickly put it on. Without her help and at her mom’s pace, they would’ve missed half the things they were going to and probably their flight too.
This day in particular, her mom was more disorganized than usual. By the time they had stepped into the airport, her mom realized she forgot to take her favorite pair of sunglasses when she was leaving. Then at the airport, she misplaced her boarding twice before Cindy decided to hold on to it for her. At times like these, Cindy felt more like the parent than the child. Some of the times she didn’t mind. She liked that she was able to help her mom and liked that her mom trusted her with these responsibilities. But sometimes the same old routine gets frustrating. Like days today. She knew that was just her mom’s personality, but she still couldn’t help but feel her mom should act more responsible as a parent. But at the end of the day her mom was still her mom and still acted like her mom. She still woke Cindy up in the mornings. She still made sure Cindy ate dinner before they left the house. And she still made her daughter rehearse what she was going to say when she saw her grandma.
(bold = speaking in Chinese)
“Now when you see PoPo, what do you say?” Her mom gives her the expectant mom stare.
“Hello PoPo. I missed you. I hope you are … you are ummm. Wait, how do you say health again?” Well, oopsies.
“Cindy, I already told you before. It’s good health. Remember. Good health. I hope you are in good health. Now say it again.”
“Hello PoPo. I missed you. I hope you are in good health.”
“Again.”
Again and again and again. Cindy has had this same exact exchange with her mom at least 3 times in the past 24 hours. Cindy resists the urge to show any signs of annoyance as she knew her mom would give her a 30 minute lecture on manners and respecting her elders if she saw even the slightest downturn of the lips. So she just repeats it over for both her and her mom’s sake.
“Hello PoPo. I missed you. I hope you are in good health. See mama I got it.”
Cindy tries to reassure her mom before she makes her repeat it 5 more times. She practiced those lines 5 minutes before they boarded the plane. And again, 10 hours into the flight. Then again, 5 minutes before the plane landed. It’s not like she didn’t pay attention to what her mom was telling her. The words just momentarily slipped her mind, but even if she forgot all her Cantonese, she would still remember those phrases. Let’s just blame it on the jet lag. That's what Cindy told herself. But, that wasn’t entirely the truth. She didn’t show it, but she was a bundle of nerves. A summer in Guangzhou sounded fun and exciting, but it also came with its fair share of problems. First and foremost, the language barrier. She understood more than she could speak. That sounds counterintuitive and maybe it is, but that’s how her American-born Chinese (ABC) mind worked. For the most part, she could follow a conversation, but when it came her turn to speak, all the words would suddenly escape her mind. Her mom would be ashamed over the amount of Google searches she’s made on how to say blank in Cantonese. But what kept her up at night wasn’t that she wouldn’t be able to speak to strangers, it was the reality of not being able to properly convey herself to her grandma and not being able to connect to her family. But at this point, her grandma might as well be a stranger. It’s been 6 years since they last saw each other in person and she only ever called her grandma on holidays with rehearsed lines her mom would give her. Their exchanges consisted of happy whatever holiday and “I wish you good fortune and a long life,” along with wows and “gwaai” (good/well-behaved) from her grandma. As they both got older, she could tell her grandma would sometimes forget her face and she didn’t know if her grandma truly recognized her even after she told her her name or if she was just pretending.
At a young age, Cindy learned the differences between sympathy and empathy. She would listen to her friends’ stories about their grandparents and their weekend trips to their homes. Or how their grandparents would randomly drop by to bring their favorite foods. She was surprised to learn that some even lived with their grandparents. She thought that all grandparents lived halfway around the world and it was normal to rarely see them. When she was in elementary school, she was jealous of all the kids whose grandparents would pick them up. She was always reminded that what she felt was sympathy and rarely was it ever empathy. She was truly happy for her friends and their great relationship with their grandparents. She so badly wanted to relate. She wanted to spend the weekend with her grandparents whenever she missed them. She wanted to eat their cooking. She wanted to be able to do even the mundane, boring stuff with them.
When her grandpa died, she felt sad, but that was the extent of her emotions. She was just sad. Not crying sad or miserable sad or heartbroken, inconsolable sad. Just sad in the unhappy sense. She could empathize with her mom over losing her dad. But what she couldn’t understand was her feelings as a granddaughter losing her grandpa. How do you miss someone you barely knew? Whenever she thought of her grandpa, there was always a sense of guilt. He was her grandpa, but she didn’t feel like his granddaughter. He was gone, but for her, he wasn’t really there to begin with. And now he won’t ever be there. All she had left of him was only one single memory.
Whenever she thought of her grandpa, she would also think of her grandma. She was thankful that her grandma was still alive, but she also took for granted that her grandma was still alive. As she got older and got a better understanding of death, her grandpa’s passing made her realize that she should prioritize her grandma. But she couldn’t and didn’t. The fact that her grandma was still alive gave her a false sense of reassurance that she had all the time in the world to reconnect with her.
Last time she visited, they immediately bonded like it was second nature to them. They were practically attached at the hip. She remembered how while cooking, her grandma would slip her food behind her mom’s back since her mom thought she would get full before the actual meal. Grandma would defend the two of them by saying Cindy was just her little taste tester. Her grandma had introduced her to her love of cucumber salad. The crunch of the refreshing cucumber paired with the spice from the chili oil was the perfect bite, but the sesame oil was what really tied it all together. She could still vividly recall standing on a small red stool in the kitchen watching her grandma skillfully slicing up some cucumbers and mixing all kinds of ingredients together, like a tasty potion. Watching her grandma make food was basically magic to Cindy. Initially she wasn’t the biggest fan of cucumbers, but the aromas coming from the dish convinced her otherwise. Till this day, whenever she saw or even got a whiff of sesame oil, she was reminded of her grandma. From the very first bite of cucumber, she was hooked. She could just feel that this was the best thing she’s ever eaten and will ever eat. After she left Guangzhou, no one’s cucumber salad could even come close to her grandma’s cucumber salad, not her mom’s even when she was following the recipe. To be fair, there were no actual measurements, just feeling. Maybe that’s why she never got the same feeling when eating other people’s cucumber salad. No one could ever capture the right feeling of being back in the kitchen with her grandma when it was just them against the world.
But even the closest people can go from literal family to strangers.
Currently, she was standing in front of grandma’s door, her lines all prepared and geared up to go. She knew what to say, but would she know what to say when she saw her grandma? Before she would spiral any further, the door opened and her mom immediately engulfs her own mother in a hug.
Seeing the sight of her mom hug her own mom reminded Cindy that this was also her mom’s first life. In front of her wasn’t just her mom, but a child feeling at home in her mother’s arms. She felt guilty for feeling frustrated with her mom on the trip here. Her mom was also just a child wanting to see their mom again. Hearing her mom still call her mom “mommy” reminded Cindy of the fact that her mom wasn’t born a mom. She had to learn how to be a parent and was still learning how to be a parent. There was no guide to be a perfect parent. Her mom may have been clumsy when it came to things, but she was genuinely trying her best. As much as Cindy was growing up, her mom was growing up alongside her too.
As Cindy had come to this realization, the two women in front of her had begun to break away from their hug. Finally it was her turn. Her mom pulls Cindy towards her grandma and reminds her of the words for good health and also to remember to smile.
“Hello PoPo. I missed you. I hope you are in good health.” Yep, totally nailed that.
But after that, they didn't talk much. As they sat at the table eating lunch, Cindy just ate in silence, enjoying all the food her grandma made. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested, she didn’t know what she could contribute to the conversation. She couldn’t keep up with the translation in her head and they were using words she didn’t know. She felt out of place. Her grandma would acknowledge her here and there, but there wasn’t much Cindy felt like she could express with her range of vocabulary.
She thought once she was finished eating, she could escape. But then her grandma offered her more rice or rather decided for her that she needed more rice. And once her grandma left to the kitchen, her mom started to reprimand her for not engaging more.
“When PoPo comes back, talk with her more. And don’t use too much English. And speak louder. You know PoPo is getting old and doesn’t understand.”
But Cindy didn’t know what to say, let alone how to say it in Chinese. She was trying her best here. How was she ever going to connect with her grandma? But by some miracle, that connection would come sooner than she thought.
“Look Cindy, PoPo made your favorite.”
Cucumber salad. Her grandma had remembered. Since her introduction to cucumber salads, Cindy has eaten it countless times. It was, after all, her go-to dish for the summer. But none of them were like her grandma’s. And after 6 years, Cindy would finally taste what the other cucumber salads couldn’t capture. It tasted like love and memories with a hint of sesame oil. Even though she thought she felt disconnected from her grandma, there was always something tying them together.
Over time, some things are bound to change and people do unfortunately drift apart due to things outside your control, like being separated by oceans. And there are some things that stay the same, like the love we have for our family and a shared connection that cannot be easily broken. And sometimes you find your way back to each other. Cindy and her grandma just so happen to find each other through their connection of food.
The story above is part of the series, 'Thinking Allowed', Each issue dives into the inner turmoil of each generation and highlights the feelings the AAPI community are “taught” not to express. It’s a story about the anxiety of feeling disconnected to people who you feel should be close to, but at the same time, a tale of connection. Many in the AAPI community can relate to the story of a family separated by a generational barrier, a language barrier, or a physical barrier.
Read more about the series by clicking here.
Are you struggling playing different roles or experiencing role reversals within your family dynamic? You don't have to face it alone. Reach out to YourPlace Therapy today and let us help you get started on your journey to healing.
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