Nhớ: Missing/Remembering or The Complexity of Love in Vietnamese Families

"In Vietnamese, the word for missing someone and remembering them is the same: nhớ. Sometimes, when you ask me over the phone, Có nhớ mẹ không? I flinch, thinking you meant, Do you remember me?

I miss you more than I remember you."

I first came across this quote four years ago on Goodreads, on the same date I wrote these lines. Back in November 2020, I was living in a dorm room with four other girls in an apartment complex on the outskirts of Ho Chi Minh City, where I struggled with loneliness and lived off meals sold by food vendors surrounding the complex. Most of my roommates lived an hour or two away from their families, so every weekend, one or two would catch a cab home and return on early Monday morning. When the night came, despite my contentment with the room's quietness, I couldn't help but think how lucky they were to have someone waiting for them. My mom was half the earth away back then, and I hadn't seen her in years. Every once in a while, she called me and asked how I was doing, and I could never bring myself to tell her I wasn't doing so well, thinking she would say, You should have chosen to study back home or something along the line of criticizing my life choices, so I stopped. The conversation always ended up with I'm doing alright. I didn't mean it sometimes.

My mom greeted me at the airport on March 27th, 2021. That was the first time I had seen her in years. The first thought popped into my head was how much time had passed between us. She asked me the same question about my well-being, and just like a pre-recorded tape, the answer came out of me before I stopped for a moment and thought about it. I was eighteen and, in the span of six months, relocated from Da Nang to Ho Chi Minh and, at last, to Illinois. In a house half the earth away from Da Nang, I felt like a misplaced item, struggling and desperate to hang on to anything that reminded me of home. During those days, my mom cooked a lot. She admitted that she wasn't a great cook, but ever since my sister and I came to live with her, she never let us leave the house without a meal in our stomach.

Food is my mom's love language, and I have realized that it occurs among Vietnamese mothers and Asian mothers in general. She gets excited over a great deal at the supermarket and calls my aunts hurriedly to share this great news as they dive into a conversation about what is on the menu tonight. I never really eat out at Vietnamese restaurants because I know for sure I will be thinking, My mom could make a better meal. She gets upset if we do not eat the food she cooks for various reasons that weren't our intentions to hurt her feelings. There have been fights about this topic that made our relationships go sour. In the majority of the fights, my mom was never the one who said sorry.

I cried when I first read On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong in 2021 after searching every bookstore I found for a copy. After thirty pages in, the relationship between Little Dog and his mom struck too close to home, and I couldn't see clearly because of my tears, I stopped reading and couldn't bring myself to pick up the book for a year. When Little Dog's internal dialogue spilled on the page, I'm sorry I keep saying How are you? when I really mean, "Are you happy? " I couldn't help but think about my mom and how we love each other. My mom keeps me at arm's length, and I do the same to her; we stand side by side, yet there are a million worlds between us. Sometimes, I look at her and wonder who she was when she was young and who she would be if I weren't in her life. I have always known her as my mom, but what does it mean for me to see her as a person? I gave our particular type of relationship much thought and how mother-daughter relationships vary among races. I act as my mom's translator and spokesperson when we go out. It has occurred to me how much nuances has been lost in the translation from English to Vietnamese and that my mother will take my remarks at face value since she believes I can communicate truthfully, which I don't sometimes. I reflect on how much has been lost between us, why I leave out some details so she won't worry, and how our relationship progresses when she finds it difficult to understand me.

What does forgiving in a relationship shaped by unspoken love, harsh words, and shared sacrifices mean?, How does the act of reconciliation bridge the emotional gaps that years of cultural and generational differences create? Those questions were constantly on my mind as I wrote down these lines, seeking a justified answer. In this project, I seek to understand the intricate dynamics of mother-daughter relationships in Asian families, where love and pain are intertwined where cultural and generational divides intensify misunderstandings and tensions. I want to examine the complexity of language and its role in shaping emotional expression within these families. I want to investigate food's significance as a primary means of communication. On top of that, I seek to understand my mom outside the role of a mother. For once, I want to bridge the gap of a million worlds between us and meet her not just as her daughter but as someone who sees the individual behind the role. Through these explorations, I hope to uncover the depth of our connection and the humanity that binds us despite millions of things that pull us away from each other.

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P/s: Đây là bản nháp của đề tài tốt nghiệp của mình vào tháng năm 2025, viết bằng tiếng Anh vì mình hiện tại không học ở Việt Nam. Mình đang khủng hoảng vì không biết có làm xong, hay làm nổi không lol... Bản thảo không edit này mình viết rất nhiều, tận hai trang A4, đa số kể lại chuyện cũ lúc mình ra Sài Gòn học đại học năm 2020 và đi đến một đất nước khác đầu năm 2021. Ấy vậy mà đã bốn năm rồi.

Mình nhớ rất nhiều thứ tủn mủn vụn vặt mà đôi lúc chủ thể trong câu chuyện đó còn không nhớ . Lúc viết bản thảo này, mình trầy trật trong việc giữ và bỏ những gì, phần vì lo bài viết mang nặng tính cá nhân khiến mọi người e dè trong việc kết nối. Nghĩ thế nhưng cuối cùng mình vẫn chọn làm chủ đề này, và viết hết tất cả những gì mình muốn nói ra sau khi đã lược bớt những chi tiết chỉ thuộc về riêng mình. Bài viết là một câu hỏi mình đau đáu mãi trong lòng. Giờ đây mình làm gì, khi đã nhận ra được rất nhiều điều về mối quan hệ giữa mẹ và con gái, hay mở rộng ra, mối quan hệ giữa phụ huynh và con cái của họ trong gia đình Việt? 

Mình là gì ngoài những cảm xúc mình mang theo? Mình không biết cách nào đặc tả được cốt lõi của mình, ngoài việc nói, viết, và biểu hiện chúng ra. Lúc viết những dòng này mình còn 46 ngày nữa để hoàn thành. Mong rằng sẽ có dịp update một chương tại đây với những gì mình làm được.