Did you eat yet?
Agape(ἀγάπη) love
“Why can’t you be like white parents?” As a seventh grader who just spent the weekend at Jacob’s house, I heard a constant flow of “I love you” and “I love you too” throughout the day. I bicycled back home just in time for my mom’s signature spaghetti and meatballs, and I sat fiddling with my chopsticks until I asked, “Do you love me?” My mother stayed quiet until she said, “Don’t ask me those kinds of questions”.
Every Korean man loves to golf. As I watched my father practice chipping in the backyard lawn, I faced him and imitated his swing. My parents were ecstatic at the prospect of their son becoming a professional golfer, and they began pouring as much time and money as they could into my junior golf career. Dad brought home golf balls that he bought from the owner of the range that he frequented, while mom trespassed beyond our property fence to pick up the balls that flew over. Hole 11 at Knollwood Golf Course, a cramped par 3 with a sharp cart-path-roundabout, will forever be my most cherished part of the course. Distracted and with no belts in the golf cart, I flew out onto the cart path due to the g forces in the roundabout. After this incident, my father held my hand whenever we rode together.
I returned home from UCSD and visited my father at the restaurant. He stuffed my face with the Galbi that he marinated especially for me. As I ate, he displayed a concerned look since he knew I wasn’t eating enough at school. After dinner, he brought me back into the kitchen to give me a suitcase that he packed full of ramen and canned food. I loaded the suitcase into the car and waved goodbye when he called my name. Confidently, with his broken english, he told me, “I Lub You”.
In my last year at UCSD, I had a minor allergic reaction to some gatorade protein bars that I scoffed down. I was tutoring Nabiha, when I was having difficulty breathing and noticed hives forming at the base of my hairline. I rushed out of the library to find the nearest road for an ambulance to pick me up and notified my mother at 8pm via text that I was going to the hospital. When I was discharged at 10pm, she was at my dorm. As she hugged me, I noticed her damp hands and lower back. My mother, one of the least capable drivers, frantically drove 130 miles to ensure I was okay. Walking with me back to her car, my mother opens the trunk and hands me a duffel bag. It was packed with food.
It’s a common theme in Asian culture to show love through other ways than vocal expression. Often times, it’s known that “Did you eat yet?” directly translates to “I love you” in asian cultures. It is undeniably difficult for Asian-Americans to come to terms with the idea of non-vocal reassurance of their parents’ love. However, once we grasp the idea that love is communicated differently across cultures, we form an undying appreciation for our parents for showing us more love than just saying “I love you”.