A River Between Generations: Reflections on Time, Care, and Legacy

I was flattered and touched by the complimentary remarks, but also puzzled. Caring for my parents feels as natural as breathing. In my culture, filial piety—the act of tending to one’s parents as they age—is not an exception but an expectation. It’s an expression of gratitude for life itself. Yet I realized that, through their eyes, it looked extraordinary. When we were infants, toddlers, and children, our parents did their very best to provide for us in basic and extraordinary ways, feeding, cleaning, and protecting us, and then ensuring that my sister and I had every opportunity to receive the best college and graduate school education possible, while being as frugal as possible for themselves, even to this day.

In Western culture, independence is prized; aging parents often strive not to be a burden to their children. Our vast geography, training destinations, and the jobs we choose often mean many of us don’t have the luxury of living in the same city as our parents. But to me, love expressed through service is not a burden—it’s belonging. To walk slowly beside my father on a cobblestone street, to steady my mother’s arm, to make sure my mother-in-law had warm soup she could enjoy—all of this is simply love in motion.

Recently, Claire shared with me her short essay explaining why her favorite book of all time is “Crying in H Mart,” by Michelle Zauner, a memoir in which the biracial author reflects on the way Asian culture expresses love not through words but through actions. I have learned that even non-Asian friends and colleagues also never grew up hearing “I love you,” but instead harsh criticisms and lack of support, even worse, traumatic experiences. The river and this trip provided me with the opportunity for complete healing regarding my relationship with my parents. Instead of dwelling on past issues, I chose to focus on the present and to express my gratitude and love for them in my actions, right up until their last days.

Wellness and well-being are not always about self-care. In fact, it’s also about “other-care” —the quiet but consistent acts that remind us we are part of something larger than ourselves.

Witnessing My Parents Anew

Traveling with my parents at this stage of their lives was both joy and a reminder about their vulnerabilities. I watched my father (who was once so strong and never took a day off or sick day, did whatever was required, and learned to fix just about everything), now nodding off multiple times a day with limited energy, and moving more slowly and more carefully. Yet on this cruise, as he indulged in Coca-Cola despite my scolding, he shared a story that I had never heard. When he was 18, his first job was at the American Embassy in Taipei, where in the dining room, Americans were served Coca-Cola. He was given the opportunity to taste his first Coke then.