I cried when my mom told me this - Difficult to imagine what she went through
My entire family is in Italy and my mom FINALLY met Matteo’s parents! SO much joy, laughter, tears, and delicious Italian food in our bellies as we kick off my wedding week.
Before this week, I took my mom on a solo trip just me and her to Amsterdam.
She had a HUGE OVERWEIGHT luggage that was a pain in the a$$ to carry to our 4th floor airbnb with no elevator.
But in that luggage, she carried so much.
Gifts for my husband’s parents, her outfits, old photo albums with photos of my dad so we can display his photos on our weding day, and so much of her past that she carried with her in that suitcase.
When I helped her unpack her things and we started to go through the albums, I saw old photos of me making faces at the pool, eating ice cream, and at the park with my grandparents.
Then there were only a handful of photos of my father who passed away when I was 3.
The photos had stains on them and the colors faded, but one thing really stuck out (see below).
❤ ️My mom’s BIG SMILE in those photos with him, perhaps the happiest I have seen her.
I asked her about her other marriages and these decades that passed, wondering if she ever felt as happy or safe or blessed.
She told me that since the day my dad passed, she never felt as happy or joyous again, although she is happy now that we healed our relationship.
I felt a rock in my throat and my eyes get watery as I could see hers do the same.
She told me that those 5 years with my dad were the best in her life, and she was so grateful for him, as he changed the outcomes of our entire family and helped her siblings come to the US and lifted her parents out of poverty during communism and the cultural revolution.
Then my mom drew me an outline of her childhood home on the back of a tourist map.
She lived in a tiny 2 bedroom place with 5 siblings, parents, and cousins, with NO BATHROOM, RUNNING WATER, or a PHONE inside the house.
She told me they used the communal shower/bathrooms in the alleyway for everyone and that she couldn’t invite her first boyfriend inside her house because she was embarrassed for him to see her living conditions.
Then she told me that from that day on, she vowed to make sure her future child wouldn’t have to live in that type of poverty again, because she never wanted her kid to experience what she felt growing up.
Last night, when my mom started taking out all her “gifts” she brought from China to Matteo’s parents, which are an assortment of tea, ceramics, and clothing that were knockoffs of famous brands, I felt slightly embarrassed by her.
Seeing her unpack sweatpants, gym wear, and athletic outfits she got for Matteo’s well-off parents who were surprised by her choice of random gifts triggered me. It made me want to hide from her shopping/hoarding tendencies, because she LOVES a discount and her house is full of items she hasn’t even taken the tags off of.
But as I was just about to say something to stop her from unpacking her “chinese shop of clothes” while presenting these random gifts to my in laws, who actually have REAL DESIGNER labels all over their closet, I thought about the drawing she drew of her childhood home.
How she never even had a bathroom in her house.
How she literally had nothing growing up.
Then I held my tongue and went to the other room as I heard Matteo’s parents smile and joke that my mom brought an “entire Chinese shop” to their house.
Usually, scenes like this make me really uncomfortable, but last night I realized that some things cannot be changed, as the things we carry are so much a result of our past.
That’s why this journey in healing my relationship with her has been so powerful–I finally got more context to why she is the way she is and have a deep compassion for it, instead of judging her like I used to.
Although our story isn’t perfect, I am glad that she feels safe and seen with me knowing that we come from such different upbringings.
As I type this email, I am looking at my mom’s huge suitcase she brought with her.
It is so much lighter now that she’s emptied out the gifts and random things she brought.
💕And I feel a sense of peace and relief knowing that this was HER way of showing her love and appreciation, although different from how I would show it.
Which leads me to my question to you, --
In what ways do the baggage people around you carry connect us and separate us? How can we use that baggage not to deepen the divide but get curious around the stories that shaped them, in hopes that it can lead to more compassion and understanding?
I hear my mom at the door. We are going to try on my wedding dress and match the various pieces of jewelry she brought, so that’s it for me for now.
With love and encouragement for your journey,
Gloria