The Fall of Saigon, 40 Years Later
My parents’ story as told by me.
The Fall of Saigon, 40 Years Later
Inspired by Stephen’s post, a good friend and mentor, I thought I would also write some words about the significance of today.
When I was much younger, I was downright ignorant and had no idea about the importance of this day. My parents would tell me their first-hand account of the war and I would blow them off not only because I didn’t know any better, but also because I was ashamed of being Vietnamese and being naive, I just did not care.
It wasn’t until my first visit to Vietnam that I realized what hardships my parents had to go through in order to give me the life that I have today.
My dad’s story goes like this.
Thao, my dad, was just laying around at home when his friend poked his head in the window. My dad’s friend told my dad to follow him and they ended up leaving the country. Two weeks later, my dad’s dad (grandfather) askes, “Where’s Thao? I haven’t seen him recently.”
My mom’s story goes like this.
Moon, my mom, was given the task to take her cousin to her cousin’s parents. The journey was really far and my mom ended up using all of the money she had on her to get there. My mom was hungry and exhausted by the time she arrived. She asked her uncle and aunt for money so that she could get home. One of them said, “Are you stupid? We’re leaving the country for a better life and you want to go back? Go home and be stupid then.” My mom didn’t know what to do so she just stayed quiet and ended up following them to leave the country.
In both stories, my parents left their families without the chance to tell them. No goodbyes, no time to pack, no nothing. They were on their way to a completely foreign land with no money and no knowledge of what was going to happen.
I can’t even imagine the fear going through their minds, living with warfare in their home. Before my mom left Vietnam, she told me of nights when they would have to go into the forest and lay in the swamp for hours while bullets went flying overhead.
My parents both ended up in the same refugee camp in Thailand, which is how my parents met. They went to the U.S. separately, my dad to Virginia, my mom to Mississippi. Eventually, my dad went down to get my mom and brought her back to Virginia.
Today, I am always more than happy to listen to what my parents have to say and I am proud of being Vietnamese. My parents may have came from a place of poverty, but it is also a place full of culture and hardworking, brave people.
