Not a word was spoken, not a sound was heard except the weeping and shedding of painful tears. Mother, aunts, uncles and cousins ​​all gathered in an atmosphere of utter grief. And there I was, holding Grandpa Le's hand for the last time, without breaking the terrible silence, Grandpa's soft, struggling voice whispered in my ear, "Con nhớ phải sống cho nên người," then slowly faded away. Without a trace I felt a void inside me strewn with sadness and desperation, along with the pride and honor of knowing that my grandfather chose me as the legacy of his ultimate ambition. Not long after the accident, my mother decided that she and I would come to America for family health care benefits, and as I stubbornly denied at first, I suddenly remember what grandfather told me, so, I proceed along with my mother requested without questions. Similar to a fish out of water, being an American immigrant was a significant disadvantage to my culture, as well as my social and academic lifestyle. Even today, after many years of struggle, I still experience these discomforts...