"Mom, are you and Dad going to Timmy's for dinner on Thursday?"
"I don't know. We need to talk first, then decide what to do after," she replied. "Right now I don't feel like going."
So, this is what it’s come to. This might really be the first Thanksgiving without my folks, I thought. I didn't want this whole thing to be the reason the holiday was ruined.
My heart wanted to move forward, but there was an obvious impasse. Since our blow up over the phone, we hadn't talked for a week. After, I had exchanged some texts with Mom. Thinking I was clever, I used Google Translate to ensure my texts got across in her native tongue. Write in English, translate into "Chinese (Traditional)," then copy and paste into iMessage. My mother can't misinterpret this in any way, right?
My sister, of course, texts me a few hours later. "I think things are getting misconstrued via text/email and some things just don’t translate well I’m assuming." Translation: bro, you're an idiot. Did you really think text messages via Google Translate is gonna get you out of this mess??
I needed a pow wow with the folks, face to face. So, we scheduled for a late afternoon on Wednesday—the day right before Thanksgiving. (Cutting it close, I know.)
"Let's make sure Christy is there, too."
I relayed the message to the wifey. And for a moment, we reconsidered if Thanksgiving really mattered that much to us anyway.
“Ugh, fine. I’ll just let you do the talking,” she said. “My response will be simple. I’m sorry, thank you, and we appreciate you.”
I chuckled. She sensed there was no point in talking, and I don’t blame her. Friends who’ve dealt with similar cultural and relational dynamics with their parents would attest to such. To be honest I, too, felt discouraged. But I wasn’t resigned, I still held out hope. Perhaps they’ll surprise us, I thought.
*****
We got to the house around 4pm. I figured it was a good time, as it gave us just enough space to talk it out, but should things take a turn for the worse...Well, hey look at that, we gotta pick up the kids from daycare!
We each took a chair at the round marble table, which had served as a relic of many a great meal and memory. Today would not be one of those days unfortunately.
My father started it off, saying a few words. He mentioned how important it was to come to the table to listen and understand, that every family has its struggles, that every person makes mistakes, but the main purpose is to come at each other with love and forgiveness. And if we do that, then we'll be on the right path to mend things. He spoke of how much my grandmother (his mother-in-law) had cared for me and my sister when we were kids, and how he made things work with her, and so I must approach this in the same way. "There's no two separate families, only one family. And you must learn how to be the bridge."
I’ll admit, there are times when Dad and I don't see eye-to-eye, but I could never knock him for his demeanor. Through it all, I've always admired his sensibility and wisdom. He knew how to bring calm in the moments when the ship seemed to sink, and this was no doubt one of those times.
Now, it was my turn. I had to figure out a way to navigate this with sensitivity (in both my broken Cantonese and English, no less).
"Well, I just want to start by thanking you both for being willing to talk. I think it's good to meet face to face, as I've realized a lot has been miscommunicated through text and email. Mom, as I mentioned before, the past is done and all is forgiven. The hair is gone, but it'll grow back. No need to bring it up anymore. For me and Christy, I think the bigger concern is, how can we prevent these types of incidents from happening again in the future?"
I went on to say how it seemed like a lack of boundaries or undefined expectations (or both) have caused minor slights to build up, where we had no healthy outlet or permission to address, and things would inevitably explode. And it's not that we don't appreciate their help, or that we're rejecting their love, but it's the idea of knowing when and how best to help, especially when the grandkids are involved.
I looked over at Mom and Dad, not sure how it was going over. I don't think they were offended, but it's hard to tell. There was a slight pause before Mom chimed in. "OK, if you are finished, let me say what I have to say, and then you can respond."
She started off with a heartfelt apology about her big mistake. She didn't know what came over her, she said, and regardless there was no excuse—Mom owned it fully. She reached out, with palms open at the center of the table, and said, "If you receive this apology, and truly forgive me, then please take my hand." Christy and I took her hand. She went on...
"Clearly, I made a mistake, and I can understand your hurt and anger. But what hurt me the most is, after I asked for forgiveness, it felt like you kept trying to punish me. I understood not seeing each other for a couple weeks, letting both sides cool down. That's fine. But then you emailed and said maybe let's see each other only once every couple weeks from now on. And that you wanted to spend more time with your family. And it felt like you wanted to create more distance between the two sides, rather than try to bring us all together, as one big family. Maybe it starts from once every two weeks, to once a month, to once a year... that's what my heart felt like you were saying. And I know you have a tough job as husband and father, but you also have to remember that you are supposed to be a bridge, not a divider. I don't think you were doing your best with that."
She paused. "I know I can be aggressive at times. Please forgive me when I act in that way. I've had a tough life ever since I was eight. You know, in China, I had to take care of my family—my grandmother and my sister—because my parents were away. I had to figure out how to buy and provide food for the family on 30 dollars a month—so I had to be aggressive. That was the only way to survive. It's been 60 years of that, and it's hard to change my mindset.
And you know, marriage with your father was very tough at times. And now that I am a grandparent, I want to put those times behind. All I want is just to enjoy this time of life. So, from now on, let's learn how to communicate better. If there are things I do that hurt you, tell me. But also, be patient with me and know that sometimes I will make mistakes. But no matter what, we need to approach it with a heart of healing and forgiveness."
She had one final thought: "Please, think about how you can help us all move forward as one big happy family."
I paused, letting her words sink in. I suppose in some ways, she was right. When the snippage first occurred, it seemed as blatant as war. They dropped a grenade, and we had to defend ourselves in the bunker. There needed to be lines drawn. I hadn't given much thought to mending both sides.
"I hear you, Mom. And you're right. Looking back, I wish I would've done some things differently. Just know I'll do better next time."
We ended our time with some hugs and smiles. It had gone better than I had expected. In fact, it was as good as it probably could have been. I turned to Christy, she seemed to signal the same.
As we were leaving, Mom remarked, "We'll see you tomorrow. I'll bring some sticky rice."
*****
The conversation that we dreaded had ended up being just what we needed. It allowed us to put everything on the table, speak with empathy, and approach heart matters with a spirit of reconciliation. It was a healthy, healing balm.
More than that, it gave us permission to be messy. And that’s the thing: all families are messy, in one way or another. But problems arise when we pretend like it’s all good (when it’s not), or when we don’t give ourselves space to be open and honest, speaking truth in love.
To be sure, I had concerns that my older, immigrant, “filial piety” oriented parents would rebuff any efforts to hold them accountable, or to even see our perspective. I couldn’t have been more wrong. And for that, I gotta give my folks credit.
I know I’m still learning how to do this spouse-parent thing. And I suppose it is the case for my parents, even in their wise golden years.
*****
The next day we enjoyed a king's feast.
We all came together under one roof: cousins, aunts and uncles, about 18 in all. We were united by turkey, board games, and laughter. We were also united (unwittingly) by a stomach bug that was spread quietly throughout the night. (The symptoms hit hard a few days later with the vomiting and diarrhea...thanks, nephew.)
Indeed, it was a holiday to remember for more reasons than one. Thanksgiving was saved. More importantly, our one big happy family was, too.