Today, the day of my birth, was actually kept hidden from my grandmother for a period of time. In fact, the entirety of my mom's pregnancy and my birth was not announced to my dad's family until I was at least a few months old. The reason is as complex, tragic, and bittersweet as a "tale old as time...."

Amidst the chaos of April 30th 1975, my dad was separated from his immediate family, who were able to evacuate Vietnam on one of the refugee boats and eventually settled in the US. A devastating blow to my grandmother, who they said wept with anguish everyday for the next 6 months from the safety of their new life in the US, knowing that my dad's fate was largely uncertain.

For the next decade, my grandparents worked themselves to the bones to save thousands of dollars to send to Vietnam to aid my parents' escape. Much of that money was intercepted and stolen by the Communist customs officers. 

Still, grandma persisted in the hope that they will be reunited. "My dear sons and daughters," she penned in nearly illegible scribbles to my aunts and uncles on faded brown paper, "when I die, you must promise me that all of the money I left will be used to take care of Tự Lập. I will not rest in peace until I know he is here."

Across the ocean, my parents were stuck behind in a hellish post-war Vietnam and, for the next 12 years, made multiple failed attempts for a chance of freedom on one of the ill-fated fishing boats. Dad finally decided to abandon the treacherous escape plan indefinitely when they found out about my unplanned conception in 1987.  

This decision saved their lives, as they avoided the increasingly precarious conditions of the refugee journey. Millions had already lost their lives at sea or were caught and were rotting away in prison. Thus, they named me Thiên Ân, which means “God’s Blessing” - a blessing in disguise.

"Don't you worry," he assured my mom, "I will repaint the house and build a teaching class so I can make more money." At that point, they had basically resolved that our lives will be settled in Vietnam, with no more hope of "the American dream."

But dad knew that news would have been nothing short of a dagger to my grandmother's fragile heart , and did not want my birth to be overshadowed by any kind of resentful energy or conflict. So for over 1 year, he withheld the announcement from anyone across the sea. Who could blame him? Who could blame her? Who could blame anyone caught in this century-long tangled web of geopolitical tragedy?

When grandma came back to Vietnam to visit in 1992, despite our awkward introduction, she greeted me with the most grandmotherly warthm as if she's known me since birth. Grandma liked to tell stories, and ironically, I was the only one of her grandchildren who could listen, absorb, and recapitulate the valuable tales she had been holding inside her hearts for over 6 decades. Perhaps she intuitively knew that her words would not be wasted in vain with me .

So today, as I celebrate my 37th year, I wish for all of you, all of us, to never have to keep our identities, our existence, ourselves…hidden again, for any reason.