PHOTO COURTESY/ Samuel Liu When I leave for college, I will forfeit time with my parents. I wish I spent more quality time with my parents and less scrolling on YouTube, but I take it as a lesson learned. That’s all we can ask of ourselves.
By Samuel Liu,
Graduating Managing Editor
I would like to dedicate this senior goodbye to my mom and dad, who have loved me even though they sometimes don’t feel loved back.
Growing up in the American education system, choice and independence is highly emphasized. Every day, you choose your own lunch, and we champion individualism and independence. So when my mom tells me to “eat more,” because I’m “too skinny,” and adds more food onto my plate, it bothers me to no end. In Chinese, we ask “have you eaten?” to show care, and families bond around making dumplings or feasting around the holidays. Making sure that I eat is how my mom shows affection, but to me, my mom’s actions diminish my ability to choose. She was pouring out her care, and yet I get annoyed with her. No wonder she feels so hurt in this miscommunication of love.
Senior year, for me, has been about reconciliation. Earlier in the year, when I was cleaning out my closet, I found a clipboard that read “I hate my mom” in second-grade chicken scratch. Wow. In that moment, regret punched me in the face and I felt shame crashing down on me. I scurried to find the best eraser and wrote over the message how much I loved and cherished my parents.
Embarrassment, too, is something I’m still atoning for. Recently, during college visits, I would frequently walk ahead of my parents, as if I was a criminal trying to lose the cops. Somehow, I subconsciously burden myself with others’ potential judgments upon them unto myself, and I feel a strong desire to escape, as if those judgments will represent me too. The more I type this out, I feel silly, irrational and guilty because I’m proud of my parent’s struggles, tooth and nail, their triumphs and their pride in me.
I can’t say I’ve been the best son even when I try to be. Some of the things I’ve said will stay with my family forever, etched in our memory. For the others, all we can do is draw a heart over it, like when you mess up on a card. The mistake won’t disappear, but we’ll only see the heart. Hopefully, we won’t be tormented by words we wield, but instead remember the healing that comes after.
Now, as I move onto the next stage of my life, all that’s left to do is not to feel guilty, but to grow from my mistakes and use them to better translate love.