My Love Letter to My Mom
Last July marked the 5th anniversary of my mother’s passing from ovarian cancer. After all of these years, I have not fully and/or properly mourned her death. There is this lingering feeling like something is missing and there is a void inside me from not having closure about her death. I know I need to do something, and unfortunately, I just don’t know what to do and how to feel. I have a feeling that this is going to be the first of many letters that I will be writing to my mother as I learn to mourn her life and passing.
One of the main reasons that I don’t know how to mourn her death is that I don’t really know her. I left her care when I was nine years old, and since that time, I rarely had any contact with her. Due to my immigration struggles, I was not able to see her in-person for over twenty years, even before she passed away.
The fact that I wasn’t able to see her one last time before she passed away is an emotional and psychological void and agony that I am still reconciling within me. Currently, this inner battle is at a stalemate.
In retrospect, technically I could have gone back to Taiwan to see my mother one last time before she passed. The reason I didn’t was because it would have jeopardized my green card application. I had been battling immigration for 27 years and I was literally months away from receiving my green card. Pretty much everything I had worked for over decades was to prepare for that moment. Also, due to the political climate in 2017 and the increasing anti-immigration sentiment, my immigration attorney highly advised me not to leave the US for fear that my green card application might get further delayed, or worse that it might be denied and I might not be able to come back to the states at all. So, I made the difficult and painful decision to not go back to Taiwan.
To a certain extent, I think my mother understood my decision. At the same time, I know that she wanted to see me one last time especially since we hadn’t seen each other for twenty years. I was told that she got really sad when she heard that I couldn’t return to Taiwan.
By late-June 2017, my mother’s condition had improved and stabilized. The doctors and my family in Taiwan were hopeful that my mother would have a longer time. I was relieved by this news because her improved health condition would buy me more time to wait for my green card approval.
Then came the evening of July 11, 2017; I had a long day at work and got home late. I went to check my mail. I saw an envelope from the US Citizenship and Immigration Services and it felt like there was a credit card in it. So, I opened the letter, and lo and behold, it was my green card. I instantly felt an electrifying excitement and joy rush through my whole body. I had never experienced anything like it before. After a couple of moments, I calmed myself down. I was exhausted from the day, so I told myself that it was late, I was going to have a good night sleep, and I would celebrate and announce the great news to everyone the first thing in the morning. And, maybe, start looking for flights back to Taiwan.
I woke up early the following day and saw dozens of missed calls. I checked the messages and my mom had passed away while I was asleep. Even today, I am still grappling with it, bewildered, disappointed, and frustrated by the timing.
Out of all the mixed and unresolved feelings I have about this tragedy, only recently have I come to realize that I never really explained and apologized to my mother for the decision that I made in 2017. So, at this moment, what I want to say to my mother is “I am sorry! I am sorry that I chose my future in the US and green card over you, over choosing to see you one last time!”
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash.
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