Lessons from my mother
Love, when it’s real and deep, doesn’t have to shout for attention.
One of the things I am most proud of is being my mother’s son.
As far as I can tell, no one else can say that. I didn’t know it when I was younger but I realize now that having my mom be MY mom makes me far luckier than any lottery winner. It’s not close.
Mei Wah Tang — now Rosen — was born in an ancient aboriginal village in Hong Kong during a year I won’t disclose. Raised in a close-knit community that featured its own moat and 20-foot brick walls, my aunts and uncles tell me she was a reserved, shy child who was spare with her words yet certain in her beliefs.
She is all those things as a mom, too.
Growing up near China’s southern border, from an early age my mother was familiar with both the specter and reality of communism and Mao’s regime.
As a young adult, the then Ms. Tang spent time living in England, where she learned the excellent British English you can still hear in her accent today.
She later returned to Hong Kong to work in her mother’s shop in the village, which was often frequented by tourists from the West — including one named Larry Rosen.
Some time after my parents met in that old Chinese town, my mother left her village, family, and culture to immigrate to America and marry. Soon after, my sister arrived. I wasn’t far behind.
My mom has told me of the lengthy legal immigration process — years of paperwork, delays, and studying for government exams. She did it without complaining or decrying the (very slow) system.
Just recently my mom hit a birthday that signified she has officially spent more years in the US than in Hong Kong. It’s been decades since she immigrated, yet she’s still more proud to be an American than most of my US-born friends.
Perhaps it’s the Chinese way, but my mother verbalized very few lessons over the years. She showed me how to act and live by her own example.
From my mother I learned unconditional love can take the form of an invisible, guiding hand.
So many of the risks and lessons I took on as a kid were enabled by the wisdom I felt all around me but may not have been expressly articulated.
When I was younger, I believed I taught myself new things and behaviors. In reality, I was picking up the traits I had been observing in my mother my whole life. I now believe this is what gave me early confidence and sense of autonomy.
From my mother I learned compassion, patience and tolerance.
From my mother I learned how to balance speaking up for what I believe in and shutting up to not waste breath.
From my mother, I learned complaining about something gives it power over you.
Love, when it’s real and deep, doesn’t have to shout for attention. It’s quiet and graceful, and perseveres when things fall apart.
Mom teaches me this every single day, even from the opposite side of the country.
Happy Mother’s Day.
