Hey Mama..

Hey Mama,

In early September of 2018, you and I had to take one of the hardest trips of our lives. We had to fly across the country to pick up Seth from the hospital after his mind malfunctioned. That trip was hard enough for me, being there with my divorced parents, to pick up my brother. But I can't imagine how hard it must have been for you: to have to once again be the glue that held everyone together; to have to step back into that role after over ten years of freedom from it.

I hadn't flown in several years and the last time I had flown was to L.A. during my sex trafficking. You held me together during takeoff as the jitters made me shake until I settled in while we were in the air. You were the one that helped bridge the gap between dad and I since that relationship is strained. I didnt care to have much to do with him, but you smoothed things over. You stood up for me, while appeasing him. You did all this while worrying about your son who was in the hospital. None of us knew the severity of his condition until we arrived. That didn't stop you from taking care of the rest of us though. You, his mom, the one with perhaps the most reason to fall apart, the closest one to him, held it together the best.

During that trip, you and I had some really deep conversations about women, strength, and fighting to regain our lives. You, my mama, are truly one of the strongest women I know, and because of that, I am also one of the strongest women I know. I don't say that to sound conceited but to tell you that your hard work has paid off. You put a lot of time and effort into raising me. I think that's safe to say because I have been to the gates of hell and back and yet I am here writing you this letter.

As I'm sitting at my kitchen table, I see the collage of pictures you made for me that night during the trip that we decided to go to Hoboken, NJ then rode the subway over to New York, City. What a fun and sporadic night that was! I look back on that night almost three years later and I have nothing but the fondest of memories! I feel like it happened just yesterday; it seems so fresh in my mind. Yet, so much has happened since then.

That night you needed a little nudge. You had been wrapped in a blanket of fear. It wasn't your fault. You had been told for years to play it safe. Your mind had been filled with the notion that the streets were going to be packed with gangs and hooligans. You weren't sure. Then I reminded you that we are strong, independent women. I reminded you to squash the lies. Those are things I had learned from you. I used your own words on you. You came to, and within about thirty minutes, we were on the subway riding over to the World Trade Center Memorial. I am SO happy we went. I know you are, too.

That night they had the light towers up because they were practicing for 9/11. We only caught it since we happened to be there the week before. Remember feeling the weight of what had happened so many years ago? The weight of death that we felt as we came up out of the Oculus building and started walking toward the memorial? I wouldn't be a woman who could sense that stuff if you hadn't helped me open myself up to that part of my mind and heart as I grew up.

Remember the gal standing there admiring the memorial? I felt so drawn to her. I walked over with confidence; I knew she was special. I knew she was someone I needed to talk with. I don't even remember how I started the conversation but she ended up sharing a wealth of information. She worked in the towers. She should have been in the tower that day, but her boss had asked her to work the late shift the night before, so she was home. She was lucky to be alive. I wouldn't have had the courage to talk to her had you not instilled it in me from a young age.

Mom, you're a warrior. You have been your whole life. This was another conversation we had on that trip. You said that you didn't like the idea of being called a survivor. You said you hated that term. I was confused at first. You explained to me that you didnt just survive cancer, you fought for your life. You fought the cancer. You said I didn't just survive sex trafficking, I fought my way back. I fought to stay alive, and to get my life back after exiting that life. You fought. Warriors fight. Therefore, you are a warrior. Yes, we did technically survive, like.. we made it out alive, but we fought long and hard battles. I most definitely will never look at the word survivor the same way again. I also kind of love that you have a hard time pronouncing the word "warrior." It's cute and makes us both giggle like little girls at a sleep over. But it doesn't diminish your warrior status; not a single bit.

You have no idea just how much your love and compassion has influenced me, along with your intense amount of strength, courage, and the fight in you. Mom, you seriously have taught me almost everything there is to know about strength. You lead by example. You don't just lay down when the going gets tough... you fight, you push through the pain. I will never forget the day you lost your first chunk of hair from chemo. We were in the parking lot of Costco, in Salem, OR. I remember it so clearly. You reached back behind your head to 'itch' and pulled out a chunk of hair from the bottom of your scalp. You said "Ooh, I had a knot." I said "Mom, you just lost your first chunk of hair from chemo." You gave me a solid eye roll. You were, rightfully so, in denial then, but I think you have since come to the conclusion that I was right. Still, you kept going. Not even chemo could stop you.

Days following chemo treatments you would sleep for about 3 days straight so that you didn't violently vomit. Ken would wake you up, give you a nausea pill, then you would go back to sleep. I hated to see you sleeping; it worried me, but it was better than the alternative. It was hard to watch you go through that. Watching you lose your hair, your eyebrows, eyelashes... you even lost your toenails. Things not a lot of people talk about in cancer treatments. You were the weakest looking I had ever seen, but in reality, you were the strongest in that time. Your body was being poisoned and you were fighting for your life.

My point is, you never, ever stopped fighting. Mom, you have always been the strength of my life. You have been the glue that held our family together for all those years. When you left dad, everything fell apart for him. Your strength went with you; it's yours, but, what you probably don't know (or might not realize) is that it's mine, too. It's only mine because you have given it to me. You fought, and you stood tall, and you never let adversity overtake you. You taught me that. You showed me that. Because of you... your strength, your will... I have taken up the fight and I will never back down. We are powerful, strong, independent women.

Over the years you have also instilled in me the qualities of a good mother. While I haven't always followed your advice, I wouldn't be half the woman, wife, and mother I am today if it weren't for your love, strength, and guidance. Thank you for loving me day in and day out. No judgement; just unconditional love.

You're beyond amazing, and I love you so, so much.

Love, Ming

P.S. We are WARRIORS!!!