mental travels of a Chinese-American Hijabi in Arizona.
After writing a sentimental (note: mushy) love letter to my mommy, it reminded me of my dad’s old ways of celebrating my mom.
Whether it was Mother’s Day or her birthday, he would go out and buy presents (all spent in his money) and assign each one of us a ‘present’ that was ‘from us’. He would laugh to himself that he was so wily, and then nudge me with that playful elbow.
The way my daddy cherished her, was how I learned to cherish family.
I knew he respected, admired and loved her. And he showed it.
My mommy and daddy were in love, nearly 3 decades after getting married.
Mother’s Day this year is half-empty.
Sometime around this time last year, my dad had emailed a week or two ahead of time, and instructed us kids to not forget to take her out for dinner or buy her presents.
This year, my inbox is empty of his name.
But full of love for my mommy.
My strong, beautiful mommy who carries on the family torch on her fragile, weary shoulders.
Whose life partner’s hand no longer holds her through all the trials and tribulations.
But whose back will forever, always be supported by the children she raised with care and love.@6 days ago with 3 notes