Take care of family
Last Monday (Feb 8) was Chinese New Year. Similar to Christmas in western culture, it’s customary to spend time with family during this festive time — a week long period of celebration, gathering, laughter, and food. The scale is massive: 2.9 billion trips in a month.
Underneath it all — it’s a simple desire to be home with family.
I love my family. Yet, I almost chose not to go home.
There are extraordinary pressures in taking a start-up off the ground. Psychologically, I felt the need to be with my business 1,000%, focused, no distractions. When there are only two of us, how can I slow down for a week? Financially, not having an income meant that the $700 plane ticket that I don’t think twice about suddenly became a big cost.
I hesitated. I made excuses. My family will understand. I’ll go the year after. I can’t afford it. I have work to do. Those are legitimate… right?
Well, it didn’t feel right. One evening in November as I played around Google Flights, it occurred to me that there are certain non-negotiables in life, and family is one of those to me. I clicked Buy.
The Giving Tree
It’s here that I want to introduce an interlude, the story of the Giving Tree. Go on, listen to the story below, it’s only a couple of minutes long.
Listen here, starting at 11:06.
I’ve heard the story before, but I never drew the comparison to parenthood. Boy, what a touching story when told from that perspective.
And I put myself in my parents’ shoes, in my grandparents’ shoes. And I thought about it — every bit of it, it’s true. All the effort, love, and sacrifice that my family have invested in my growing up seemed to have sailed away, when I decided to live independently and blaze my own trail in San Francisco. I felt bittersweet just thinking about it.
Only if there’s a way I can give back. By going home.
回家 — Going Home
When I pulled up to my grandparents’ doorsteps, I saw my grandma’s slim silhouette on the balcony. An excited voice called out “Leilei,” penetrating the cold winter air with its warmth. It’s a scene I’ll long remember — I’m home.
Seeing big smiles hanging over everyone’s faces is the biggest, priceless reward for this trip. For the next week, we did the little things that families do, watching TV, telling stories, fixing everyone’s computers and phones, eating around the same table, enjoying the here and now. It felt comfortable and worry-free. I felt invincible, that I could not be hurt when I’m with family.
I almost convinced myself that this would last forever… but I know it doesn’t. My grandparents added more wrinkles and white hair, and are markedly less mobile compared to just last year. Even my parents are getting closer to 60, an age that seems old. In fact, when you count it all out, time is running out.
You can change jobs, change cities, change friends, but for better or worse, your family is the only one you’ll get.
This is the only family that I will have. These are the people that have unconditionally loved and supported me all my life. Although faraway, they have continued to care and think about me.
This story happens millions of times, in every immigrant family all over the world.
As for me, I’m committed to being there for my family. Going home is a tradition that I will do anything that I can to continue. Everything else can wait for a little bit.