Dear Diary,
As a second-generation immigrant, I've noticed that some people think it should be fun to grow up with two cultures (for me, Korean and American). Although there are some perks, such as being bilingual, the reality is that sometimes there are certain aspects you wish you could enjoy like other Americans: not having a place to call home, not saying I love you to your family and more. One of those things for me is being left out as we're the only ones in the U.S. while others are in Korea. I've always been jealous of those visiting their families over the holidays or hanging out at their cousin's house over the weekend. Whenever our family wanted to see my grandparents, we'd save money to afford plane tickets to South Korea. While it may seem like a minor deal for others, I've realized it's a bigger luxury than you may think.
In 2013, my mom suddenly started to lose vision in her left eye after a failed Lasik eye surgery. Before the Lasik surgery, the doctor claimed that one of her eyes was weaker than the other but didn't believe it would be a huge problem when doing the procedure. While having complications with her eyes, my mom also started to get migraines triggered by her eye. After working for over 15 years, my mom had to stop working to treat her eye. From then on, my mom has had multiple surgeries to recover her eye, and yet all of them failed. To prevent my mom's migraines, she constantly had to be on bed rest. I saw how weak her
body had become. I remember my mom's tears soaking up the bed she was lying on. At one point, I questioned whether my mom could recover enough so we could walk together to the beach, eat out, or even talk about our days. At this point, I prayed that there would be someone who could help my mom. I felt so alone like I had no one to depend on. At that time, I wished my grandparents could visit to help us care for our mom.
Another moment was in high school when my grandmother passed away. Each year I visited my grandma, I saw how much thinner she was getting after being diagnosed with Parkinson's. The last time I saw her was a few months before she passed away, and she was about 75 pounds. And after she passed away, I couldn't attend her funeral. It wasn't until after four years that I could visit her grave (Covid-19). Being a second-generation immigrant means accepting that you won't be able to meet your family often and won't be as close to your cousins, aunts, uncles, or grandparents as other families. As a second-generation immigrant, that's precisely why the idea of family is so crucial to me. But I hope that when I have kids, they won't experience this same emptiness. Anyway, just a thought. I’ll write again. Good night.
Love,
Gio
The Student Movement is the official student newspaper of Andrews University. Opinions expressed in the Student Movement are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the editors, Andrews University or the Seventh-day Adventist church.