Remember me
Though I have to say goodbye
Remember me
Don’t let it make you cry
For ever if I’m far away
I hold you in my heart
I sing a secret song to you
Each night we are apart
Whenever the song Remember Me plays, childhood memories unfold before my eyes like scenes from a movie. The film Coco, which I watched years ago, reshaped my understanding of remembrance and the significance of connecting with our ancestors. Every April, a season filled with longing, I find myself asking: Do I still remember my grandparents? Do I still remember those childhood moments?
The Struggle of Holding Onto My Roots
During my first year in the U.S., the pressures of daily life forced me to rapidly adapt to an English-speaking environment.
One day, an Asian American friend, knowing I had Minnan (Taiwanese) heritage, casually asked me how to say a common phrase in my native tongue. I thought for a long time, but that simple phrase, one I had spoken countless times as a child, eluded me. Even my pronunciation felt unfamiliar.
At that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of frustration — not just because I was navigating life in a foreign land, constantly preoccupied with how to improve my English, integrate into American society, and establish my identity here, but because I realized that part of my past, the special bond I had with my grandparents through language, was slipping away. It felt as though the “new me” was slowly eclipsing the “old me” — the part of me that was deeply connected to home, the part I wanted to cherish and preserve.
I feared that the longer I stayed in this foreign land, the more I would forget my homeland.
Rediscovering “Home”
What can I do to hold onto these memories? The most natural and immediate answer was to write them down — to document the stories my family and I still remembered.
As I embarked on this journey, I began recording weekly video calls with my parents, listening to their recollections of the past. Over time, I expanded my efforts: organizing old family photos when I visited Taiwan, researching photo restoration techniques, and writing down family stories. I realized that family history is everywhere — in a photograph, a document, the way my parents move, the décor of our home, the landscape of our yard, and even in the historical events that shaped their lives. All it takes is for us to begin.
The Power of Family Stories
In the U.S., from October 31 to November 2, the country celebrates Día de Muertos (Day of the Dead). Traditions include offering food and flowers, visiting family, praying, and gathering to honor deceased loved ones. For Mexicans, this holiday is both sacred and joyful, centered around the idea of “family stories” — a recognition of identity and heritage.
Similarly, in Taiwan, I believe that the essence of the Qingming Festival lies in remembering and staying connected to our family. The passage of time should not dilute or digitize these traditions, but rather, deepen our understanding of their core values and find modern ways to honor them.
Why Is It Important for Adults to Remember Their Family History?
1. Memories of Our Elders Build Confidence
As I delved into family history, I came across a New York Times article by Bruce Feiler, This Life: The Stories That Bind Us, which introduced me to the work of psychologist Marshall Duke from Emory University. Duke and his colleagues developed the “Do You Know?” scale, which asks children questions about their family history — questions like:
- Do you know where your grandparents grew up?
- Do you know where your parents went to high school?
- Do you know how your parents met?
- Do you know about any hardships your family has faced?
- Do you know the story of your birth?
The study found that the more children knew about their family history, the stronger their emotional well-being, happiness, and resilience. They also had greater confidence in building their own families in the future.
2. Strengthening Bonds With Loved Ones — Both Living and Departed
Actively remembering and sharing family stories deepens our connection with our parents and helps bridge generational gaps.
Our parents’ lives are shaped by two key relationships: their bond with their own parents and their relationship with us, their children. As I started discussing my grandparents with my parents — learning about their youthful dreams, struggles, and joys — I felt an invisible thread drawing us closer together.
Even if one does not subscribe to the spiritual beliefs behind Día de Muertos, I hold onto one truth: when I remember my grandparents and ancestors, they remain with me.
3. Understanding Who We Are
If someone asks you, Who are you? Where do you come from? — how would you answer?
When introducing ourselves, we often focus on the fun aspects of our hometown — the best food, the must-visit spots — because we assume that’s what people want to hear. But now, I ask myself: If I strip away the tourist attractions, how would I truly describe where I come from?
When I think this way, the places I once lived take on deeper significance. Moving houses was no longer just about changing addresses — it was a reflection of my grandparents’ and parents’ decisions, their struggles, and the sacrifices they made for a better future. Each home tells a story, shaping the life paths we walk today.
Living in the U.S. has also heightened my self-awareness. Constantly being asked, Where are you from? has made me reflect more deeply on my identity, and it’s why many American-born Chinese (ABCs) embark on “roots journeys.” Companies like 23andMe and Ancestry exist because when people see reflections of themselves in their ancestry, their sense of identity and belonging becomes clearer.
4. Unlocking the Mysteries of Family History: A Path to Self-Awareness
Every question about Who am I? connects us to our personal awakening.
Recently, while watching Light the Night, I was fascinated by the in-depth character analyses in online discussions. It struck me — I could apply this same analytical approach to my parents!
By revisiting their choices — such as why they moved to certain places for better opportunities, the risks they took, the financial burdens they carried, the values they instilled in me — I started piecing together the puzzle of my family’s history. Listening to their stories felt like uncovering hidden threads that explain who I am today.
Over time, I’ve realized that while family stories remain unchanged, our evolving perspectives allow us to connect with different aspects of them at different points in life — much like watching a film where different scenes resonate with us over time.
What Does Qingming Festival Mean to You?
A few days ago, my father from Changhua spoke about this year’s Qingming Festival. As he reminisced about my grandparents’ hardships, he expressed his deep gratitude. He recalled how their generation prioritized their children’s well-being over their own, how my grandmother never truly rested or enjoyed life for herself. That is what Qingming Festival means to him — gratitude and remembrance.
For me, especially after experiencing a global pandemic, Qingming has taken on an even clearer meaning: it is a reminder to cherish the ordinary moments of life — the seemingly mundane yet precious everyday interactions with family.
So, what does Qingming Festival mean to you?