Those of my friends who knew MT as a five year old kid when we arrived here in the US, well, he is not a kid anymore. Here he is posing with my husband, Mlen-Too.
The life of an immigrant is quite an interesting one. For some of us, there are no long line of family members, no sisters and brothers, no cousins, grandparents for our children, and often, no friends to help us celebrate when good things happen to us, and certainly no family to weep with us when there is a loss. Holidays are especially difficult for many of us first generation immigrants. Many of us will again celebrate July 4th with only our immediate families.
I was talking to my friend from college days, and like many of my friends, she lives across the United States. Her first child and son also graduated from high school. She and I celebrated over the phone, and were tearful of course, over the phone. She said something that is common to those of us who do not have many to celebrate with: “You know, Pat, even if my in-laws felt all the passion about coming to Brian’s graduation, they do not have the means to travel across the US.”
We are pioneers, I often think, pioneers venturing into the unknown, and if we are lucky, we may help bring over a sister or brother to help us form that long extended family that was lost in the long move across the ocean. When our son, MT graduated from the University of Rochester in May, my husband and kids drove with me to Rochester to make MT’s big day.
Ashanti, Me, and MT posing after the Awards night.
MT and Ashanti, a friend of MT’s
Ashanti, MT, and Paulina, the sweet girls I call daughters.
Gee, MT, and Ade Wesley, the three children snuggling in the rainy and cold Rochester day. The rain came down only after the outdoor ceremony because someone kept the rain away until that time. After the awards, the graduation, then came the party time for both grads and parents.