“Can you believe it? I don’t have much in this life, just my only son to carry on the family name. But all he does is wander around aimlessly, spending time with friends who don’t care about the future. He’s already 30, and every time I mention marriage, he brushes it off or storms out for days. It’s heartbreaking. I raised him, educated him, but he doesn’t think about the future at all. Whenever I think about it, I feel like I won’t be able to die peacefully.”
“Young people these days are strange. My daughter, after graduating with her pharmacy degree, moved in with her female friend. They live together like a couple, and every time she brings her friend home, I get furious. She’s not unattractive or rude in any way. The sons of my friends would love to marry her. She causes me so much worry, and if I were to die right now, I wouldn’t be able to rest in peace.”
“You and your spouse are luckier than us. We have four children. When they were young, our sons served as altar boys, and our daughters brought flowers to the church. They were all youth leaders in the Catholic movement, but now all four have abandoned their faith. One moved far away for work. Another is busy with kids. And there’s one who still lives with us, but none of them go to church anymore. If we bring up religion, they deflect: ‘We’re still young. When we’re your age, we’ll go to church.’ It’s as if we’ll never rest in peace.”
These familiar complaints are often repeated whenever elderly folks, those around 70 or older, gather. In reality, they likely have nothing left to discuss about youth or the younger generation except their belief that young people today live strangely, recklessly, without a thought for tomorrow. They see youth as immoral, without ethics or respect for traditions. And it is for these reasons that many elders fear dying before seeing their children and grandchildren return to religious faith and proper morals. However, the reality is that, aside from rare cases, like people with poorly performed eyelid surgeries who can’t close their eyes, everyone—old or young, moral or not—dies with their eyes closed.
I remember a day more than 20 years ago when I was sitting in a park with my two sons. The eldest enthusiastically told funny stories that he thought were hilarious. While he and his younger brother laughed heartily, I couldn’t laugh at all. I understood the words, but I just didn’t find the humor. Noticing my silence, he asked:
“Dad, do you know how to laugh?”
Surprised by the question, I answered, “Of course I do. Why do you ask?”
He explained, “I told these jokes at school, and everyone laughed—even the teacher. Just now, my brother laughed, but you didn’t.”
Then, as if realizing something about the gap between us, he added, “I get it now. You were born in Vietnam, so you laugh at Vietnamese things. I was born in America, so I laugh at American things.”
That conversation from all those years ago has stayed with me, shaping my thoughts and guiding me in giving advice on matters of psychology, love, marriage, and family. It constantly reminds me to be mindful of cultural differences, individual backgrounds, environments, and the generational gap. Expecting the younger generation to live by the same values and mindset of 50, 60, 70, or 80 years ago is unrealistic and unfair, given the rapid development of the modern world.
This means worrying over things that rarely happen—worrying for the sake of worrying. This kind of concern often stems from a desire to relive the past, the memories and expectations that once existed. It is a common mentality among elderly Vietnamese living abroad. They seem to want their children and grandchildren to return to the past, to think, speak, act, and love the way they did. For many Vietnamese exiles, their past is represented by vegetable gardens, fishing nets, and rice fields. It’s the North-South migration, the harrowing boat journeys, and the long years in communist prison camps. It’s the image of village schools and provincial academies where they learned age-old lessons: “A single word is as valuable as a teacher,” or “First learn manners, then knowledge.” It’s the dream of studying hard to become a government official. Simply put, they live in the past and can’t adapt to the present.
They forget that their youth did not include iPhones, iPads, computers, laptops, the internet, Facebook, YouTube, Messenger, Instagram, TikTok, or the advanced digital and artificial intelligence technologies of today. They didn’t know about long-distance love or casual dating. They weren’t faced with issues like separation, divorce, abortion, homosexuality, same-sex marriage, artificial insemination, or gender transitioning.
Society has changed, and with it, the social order, culture, technology, and ways of thinking and living. The cultural and generational gaps between parents and children, grandparents and grandchildren, create countless differences. Why can’t parents and grandparents focus on understanding the challenges and needs of their children and helping them overcome them? Why, after all the life experiences they’ve had, haven’t they learned a practical lesson for themselves, instead of expecting it from their children? Why must everything be about “the old days,” or “when I was a kid, I did it this way”?
Every generation and every era has its own challenges. Parents, grandparents, and children all must overcome these challenges if they want to succeed and survive. And the difficulties of each period are unique to that time.
So, is there no solution? Must elders continue to suffer, watching the younger generation, thinking that they’ve become corrupt, lost their identity, and abandoned their culture and morals—dying without peace?
There is a solution. It involves open conversations and exchanges, heartfelt discussions, and empathy. It involves listening to one another. In psychology, this is called “communication therapy.” It’s used to heal and reconcile conflicts and disagreements in love, marriage, and family. It’s also a tool used by cultural, social, educational, and psychological experts to resolve social conflicts.
But what if, after these conversations, the youth still don’t listen or stubbornly choose their own path? The best approach is to let them experience life for themselves. Their mistakes will provide invaluable, though sometimes painful, lessons. Their future success will be hard-earned through their own experiences. As for the elders, they should offer love, understanding, encouragement, and forgiveness. They shouldn’t place unrealistic expectations or demands, but rather, they should trust in and remain optimistic about the future of their children and the younger generation.
In doing so, they need not worry about dying with unfinished business.
-Trần Mỹ Duyệt, PhD in Psychology-