Saturday, November 7, 2015 "I Love You."

Saturday, November 7, 2015
Week: 12
Songs to Remember: I Wonder Why - Dion and the Belmonts

        I overheard my parents fighting today. Didn't really had to try that hard though because they're loud enough that I can hear them from in my room.

        This is a honest-to-God letter post about both my dad and my mom, whom I in all honesty, believe that I have not tried to interact much with lately. What's to blame? My insecurity, laziness, tiredness, and just outright because I'm a teen, where I have the mentality that "nobody understands me, what I'm going through, how I have the hardest life right now."

        Both my parents have come from long ways to get where they are now, here, in American, where I can have the best life possible. They seen and experienced with troubles I cannot even imagine. My dad, I've seen photos of him working as a rickshaw driver back in Vietnam. There was one time, back at our old, old house where he showed me pictures he took back in Vietnam. There was a picture a young guy whom I did not recognize. My dad said this was a guy he gave bread to each day because he was hungry and poor. He said that guy later on committed suicide.

        My mom grew up in a family with around 8 other siblings. Her parents, especially her father, had high expectations for her to do well in school. Her family was also scraping to get by. I don't exactly know when or where my parents met. I'm thinking it was when they were in America, when my mom told me this story of how my dad took my mom out to Mountain Mike's Pizza when they were dating.

        Living in America, my mom got a job working at a beauty salon. My dad, he's worked in an industrial gas supplying company for around 15 years, ever since I was born. My mom quit her job and has ever since stayed home, taking care of me. Both of my parents never attended college.

        My parents got an apartment, and soon got a house. Just a small 1-story house in a quiet neighborhood. We stayed there until I finished 4th grade, and then we moved. I still remember everything, from the stories my mom told me, waking up early in the morning for school, sittigng in front of the heater, watching Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network while drinking my milk, progressing from sleeping in the same bed as my mom ,watching The Brady Bunch on T.V, to having 2 separate beds, to a bunk bed. I remember me playing in my dad's room, him showing me the basics on using a computer, how to turn it on, when we went to watch Monster House and Star Wars Episode 3 in theaters together, when we went on bike rides around our neighborhood and at my school. I remember all of that and even more. When I told my mom I wanted to go visit our old, old house again (this was at around 2010), she said we couldn't, because the sight of the house will bring back memories and make her cry (in a good way).

        As a family, we've reached bumpy roads at the second house we've moved to. I didn't like leaving my friends, didn't like the people at my new school, the administration was outright racist, poor funding, dangerous neighborhood, it was just bad overall. I got into trouble with the school somehow, there was police involved, my parents did not like it one bit. We moved shortly after I finished 5th grade there. And now here, in the house we've been living in for more than 5 years now. That's a really long time if you think about it, from 6th grade, all the way now to 11th. A lot of things happened in just 5 years.

        We've made friends with the neighbors, I finished elementary school, went on to middle school, finished that, and now, trekking along through high school. Over time, my parents, they've gotten stressed out, with, all the things I have to get involved in. My mom drives me to school at 7:30 AM in the morning, buying school supplies, by dad has to pay for my SAT, drive me to and from school events, or to hang out with friends on the weekends. I'm in high school, I should be trying to be independent by now, that my parents shouldn't have to worry about all this, but apparently, this is actually all too much work for just one person, and it sorta becomes my parents' responsibilities as well.

        During my parent's fight today, about an hour ago, this was the line that triggered me the most: "Just say it. Just the say the word, and I'll take Andrew and raise him myself." That brings me to tears just by remembering how my mom said it. It breaks my heart. I was worried that my dad would snap and say okay to a divorce, but, thank goodness he didn't. I don't ever, want my parents' arguments to go to the extremities of something like that.

        What would break me the most would not be getting rejected by the girl I like, failing all my classes, losing my friends, or losing relatives, but losing my parents. Without them, I wouldn't have been able to meet my friends, enjoy being around my relatives whenever we visit, or even, had the idea to start this blog to gather my thoughts. I've heard all their arguments, from house to house, school to school, from age 1 to age 16. I have thought about suicide and running away before. I have never attempted either of those things. For running away, it's because it's not permanent like suicide, and I want people to realize my presence and when I'm gone. For suicide, I'm too cowardly for that, I'd be too scared to commit to it. But worst of all, it would do more bad than good. It would devastate my parents.

        So, to you, my parents, this is what I have to say as of now. Mom, even though I never really show expression or enthusiasm when you do, or try harder in my classes, or want a career in the medical field, or, try to speak more Vietnamese, the first language I've learned, I still love you. I always have, I always will. I love you, mom.

        Dad. I'm sorry for neglecting to talk to you. It's just because I'm tired when coming home from school and your constant questions annoy me when I'm tired. But now that I've actually looked at it from your perspective, you're really just trying to interact with your son, even if it's just a "How was school? How much homework do you have today? Keep up the good work, it's almost the weekend." You've hugged me ever since I was little. You still give me kisses. What any other kid would give to have a dad like you. I love you, daddy. Even if I don't show it, even if I don't say thank you, I mean it. I love you.

        After the 16 years, soon to be 17 years, of us being together, through all the arguments, through all the fun experiences, to all the things trying to separate us, I'm glad that we're still together. I love and appreciate what you've done for me. So to my mom and my dad, please don't divorce. I love you.