The Love of a Child
There's nothing better!
This Substack is about life in Việt Nam from the viewpoint of a 10-year expat who spent his first 60 years in a low-context culture.
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As I complete my 71st revolution around the sun, it recently occurred to me that I am a very lucky guy — for many reasons. The number one reason is that, although I spent my first 62 years actively avoiding small children whenever I could, one of them entered my life when I least expected it, stole my heart, and is making the rest of my life better than I deserve.
It’s AMAZING!
The absolute best love, the one that I’m so blessed to have found late in life, is the limitless love only my daughter could both give to and create within me.
It’s something that I could never imagine until it actually happened. Only now do I realize what I’d missed until she appeared. My entire life, I never wanted children and actively avoided serious relationships with women who wanted to have children. Whenever I could, I also avoided being around children.
Would it have been the same? I hope so, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?
Life changes (both noun and verb)
In 2014, I moved to Vietnam. I soon discovered that many Vietnamese women appreciate what an old guy can offer, and I started dating women much younger than I.
After about a year here, I met someone in her 30’s whom I really liked and the relationship got pretty serious. Her daughter (H) was four at the time, and for at least a month after I met her, wouldn’t even look at me, much less smile in my presence. Her only English word was, “Hello” and I felt fortunate on the days she deigned to say it to me. It took probably three months before she started to accept me as someone she might have to learn to put up with in her life.
Many decades ago I figured out that young children (and, unfortunately, emotionally-stunted adults) think that love is finite; a zero-sum game. To them, this translates to,
If mommy loves this random guy, she’s going to love me less.
That is almost never really the case unless mommy’s a total loser, but try telling a young child that; it’s not going to compute.
I knew if I was going to win her over, it would only happen in its own time. So I waited; treated H with respect; did what I could to make her feel safe; spent time with her when she allowed; and tried to help her see that I was not a threat to her mother’s love for her. I knew I was getting through when her mom told me that H had asked her (in Vietnamese, of course),
Why does Daddy love me so much?
Once I started spending time around the extended family, H’s grandparents and her mom wanted her to call me “Bố” (pronounced bá), the Vietnamese word for father. I was flattered, but declined. She already had a father and I was NOT trying to (nor did I want to) replace him. I wanted her to see him whenever possible and hoped they would have a good, healthy relationship. Although she doesn’t see him much since he moved six hours away for work, I never wanted to chance that she or someone else refer to me as “Bố” in his presence, because he would lose face. Besides, there are always alternatives.
I made a list and her mother offered them to her:
John
Dad
Daddy
Bố John (Uncles are often called “Bố [first name] as a sign of respect.)
She immediately chose “Daddy”, and that’s whom I’ve been to her ever since. I was very happy with her choice, because that’s what I would’ve chosen; it feels right and I smile inside (and sometimes outside) every time she says it. Even now.
A few years later, seemingly out of nowhere, she looked me dead in the eye (uncommon in VN) and said,
When I first met you, I didn’t like you.
I laughed and replied, “And now you love me.”
She laughed and said,
Yes!
One day she was asking me questions about my family and what it was like growing up in the US. I mentioned that although we were biologically a family, I never really felt close to my parents or siblings in the way I felt close to her and her mom. She asked why, and I said, “That’s just the way it is, sometimes. I also told her that I don’t remember either of my parents ever saying ‘I love you’ to me until after I graduated university and was out on my own.
She looked at up me, smiled broadly, and said,
I love you, Daddy!
A few days later, her mother told me that H felt very bad that my parents never told me they loved me. She told her mom that she was going to tell me she loves me every day, forever.
And she does. Every single day.
My daughter brought so much sunshine and love into my life, I can’t imagine it without her.
Thank you, daughter! I love you!!!
One last thought… if you ask H “What’s Daddy’s job?”, she will quickly say,
Daddy‘s job is to protect me!
I agree with Jo Jo from Jerz:
My daughter is a firework who hasn’t yet had her chance to streak across the sky, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone or anything stop her from being able to light up the night and dazzle the world.
That is a beautiful story. It's rare to be unconditionally loved but you lucked out. Very poignant piece full of meaning.
As a single parent that raised my youngest child from birth alone, and especially being a Black Man in the United States raising a female child, I have often been asked (almost always by European-Americans) "what is your secret?" She's so this, she's so that. "We really LOVE little Suzie but we have been unable to accomplish what you have.
My response always is: "you are focusing on the wrong four-letter word. LOVE is subjective and your child may have a different concept of it...if any at all. However, if give your child TIME, they will come to know love. You can buy all the crap in the store, but TIME is the most valuable thing we have, it is what we cannot get back. And, as in any relationship, when you give your most precious gift, TIME, it will be reflected and LOVE becomes moot."
Time and protection are the birthright of every child. Because we can keep our pants zipped, and legs crossed.
Glad to see your travels were safe and feel especially privileged to know H's" real name. My regards to you both.