Dear Mom,
Growing up, I understood very little of who you are. It was impossible for me to process the immense suffering you experienced packing up and moving to a country you’d never seen until you first debarked the plane. There was a misunderstanding between us for years, mainly fueled by ignorance of your roots. But now, I understand a lot.
From the beginning, you were insistent that I succeed. You wanted me to be the best at everything: sports, art, school…it didn’t matter what I did, I needed to be a master. I will never forget the hours practicing violin until my fingers bled on the strings, or the late nights going over various math problems, only stopping when the numbers swam off the page. You were always just behind me pushing me to do one more arpeggio or finish one more formula.
I have a hard time even now saying this, but I resented you. I resented your “Tiger Mom” methods. Of course, you were fairly mild compared to some: you never withheld food but always had a snack ready for me when I needed it. Regardless, I sometimes thought you were cruel to me. But the cruelest part of all of this is my resentment of your success. Seeing you spend hours at work during the day only to study for your real estate exam at night without so much as a sigh of complaint made me angry. How could you so effortlessly tap into some innate source of fire within you that pushed you through? I thought you were Superwoman. And then I began to learn.
You always protected me as a child. Nothing painful from the outside world penetrated my fantasy bubble; everything was perfect at home. You shielded me from your arguments with Dad and your depressive episodes. Over time, they became more frequent, and I slowly began to understand why. I became older and you told me about Romania, your home.
Nicolae Caucescu’s communist regime ruled every aspect of your life. The food shortages, the spats with revolutionaries, and the time your father was held hostage significantly impacted your worldview. Everything was terrifying; you did not know if each day was your last. So you kept your head down, doing what you needed to do to survive. You did your mandatory military service, you went to college and studied far more than I ever have. Your tenacity saw you through the revolution and the fall of the only government you ever knew. Your courage supported you through your move to a foreign land where you only knew one person out of millions. Your grit got you through those first few years of giddy uncertainty, and eventually to where you are now.
Mom, you accomplished the American Dream. Purely by hard work and determination did you manage to escape an unpredictable future. I know now that this same tenacity, courage, and determination are qualities you have worked so hard to pass on to me. I only hope that I make you proud.
Your daughter
