Ming-Wai

“Chris takes a long drag. “I don’t even know Leon’s story, Dad, so I’m not about to judge him. But I don’t disagree with you about trying to give my child everything I never had. I do think that’s our job as parents, from one generation to the next. But to me, it’s not only about the material.” “Oh? Then what’s it about?” “Love.” Lolo Emil lets out a sarcastic laugh. “I made sure you grew up in a safe neighborhood with good schools. That you could focus on your studies instead of needing a job. That you always had a fridge full of food. That you could go to the doctor when you were sick. That you didn’t have to worry about paying for college—even if I thought your major was useless.” “And I appreciate all that, Dad.” “But that wasn’t enough for you? That wasn’t…‘love’?” Enzo imagines Lolo Emil wincing as he says the last word. In his entire life, had he ever said it to anyone besides Grandma Linda and maybe his own mom? If not, how sad. “In some ways, sure,” Chris says. “But there’s more to it.” “Enlighten me.” “So, yeah, it’s doing all that stuff you did to take care of someone. But it’s also knowing them. Like, really, truly understanding them as a person as much as possible. It’s getting out of the way and allowing them the freedom to be that person. It’s being proud, not when they fulfill your own expectations or conditions but when they live in a way that aligns with who they are. It’s a whole lot of other stuff, too, that I can’t put into words. That’s the love I’m trying to give to Enzo, at least.” Lolo Emil speaks again, this time with uncharacteristic concern. “I never gave you any of that, Christopher?”
― Randy Ribay, Everything We Never Had