As told by Alisa Chook, my mom

My grandma was the only one who raised me after my mom and dad left. We lived during the Cambodian genocide, which killed off more than 2 million of our people, including my grandfather, 3 of my grandmother’s children and my dad. It left the country and people in pieces, but we continued to live and grow.

We lived in the countryside and had a tight budget, so my grandma got creative with improvising substitutes. We didn't have a roof, so she piled coconut leaves on top of each other and tied the layers together using the stem of palm leaves. We didn’t have enough clothing, so she gathered rejected rags, patches and elastics and sewed them together to make my shirts, bras, and skirts. We didn’t have bandages or gauze, so she wrapped clothing lint and dust bunnies on wounds.

My grandma and I would do lots of activities together. We would walk for hours every day, fishing and harvesting fruits and flowers by hand to sell at the market. When I had to start doing these tasks independently, I was scared because I thought I would no longer have her help or support by my side. Then I understood why I always stuck close to my grandma. I started to watch and listen to her closely. I noted how she was strong, how she never hesitated to speak and be assertive. She made her time count and didn’t waste it on anyone. She knew what she wanted and had clear plans to get it done on time. Whether she was physically by my side or not, I knew that I had to become strong, not just for her, but for me too. I was not going to be afraid and wait, I was going to go. I began doing the work myself, allowing her to rest while I grew stronger. 

To this day, my behavior is very similar to hers. I would say she is still braver than me, but she taught me the importance of quality, time, and effort and it continues to save me from excess stress, procrastination, and delays.

Most of the time I would go to school, as she encouraged me to, but I was more concerned about getting food on our table than getting high marks. Sometimes she made me tea and snacks after school when she was able to find them on nearby bushes. One time, I bought food for her, but after she took 2 bites, she gave it back to me and said that she wasn’t hungry. We both knew she was lying at the time, as we were always hungry, but I took the offer right away and gobbled it down. She was always willing to serve me food first so that I could stay nourished and healthy, even if that meant she had less.

She was so kind and selfless to me. I never felt pressured by her, only loved. She loved to talk and share stories about her past, her day and my family. She taught me several virtues and lessons that are still clearly embedded in my memory. All of the lectures and prayers she shared with me, I share with my own children. All of the negotiation and finance skills she taught me, I now use with my business.

When I came to the United States, I promised that I would one day bring her here too, but the timing didn't work out. My grandma suffered from heart diseases and got sicker as she got older. She never got to see my kids and we never got to revisit each other or communicate after I moved. It was very difficult to accept that fact, as she was my life’s foundation.

My grandma was my mother, my grandparent, my teacher and my leader all in one. In Cambodia, people are usually taught early on to be respectful, patient caregivers for our elders as they have lived before us and raised us. We should continue to cherish and show love to our elders and communicate while they are still with us. Whether it’s through writing a letter, talking on the phone or visiting in person, we must be there for our elders because that will be us one day.