She gave me life and tried to raised me, to be the best version of herself as a woman.
Growing up, she tell me stories of her homeland that she missed dearly.
As a child, I couldn’t imagine the sacrifices and loneliness she felt deep within, without someone to soothe her emotional pain.
I wish then that I was old enough to wipe away all her tears of sadness and tell her, ” this will pass, everything in life is temporary.”
She gave unconditional love without seeking rewards in return, but to see me one day become a dutiful and loving daughter to her.
Is that the life of a traditional mother? Born and raised to fulfill the duties and expectations of others with selfless love and without a voice?
I could only be my mother’s shadow, walking beside and sometimes behind her. It seems that we are “one”, but we are actually “two” identities that want to continue the lifelong journey together.
Being my mother’s shadow was a difficult task. Our lives entwined with endless battles of racial discrimination, social and gender bias as a woman and sustaining a peaceful life of the “American Dream”.
All grown up, I could no longer be my mother’s shadow. I must let her go, to live her last phase of life.
By Jazzmin S. Lu
Foreword: If you are fortunate to have a loving immigrant mother that raised you to be your best self, show her that she is appreciated and loved. Words couldn’t express all that she sacrificed and not able to have a “voice”.
