Don't Marry Her.

If I could go back, in all the unhappy marriages of time; in the marriages of our Hmong generations, I would tell you:

Don’t marry her. Please don’t marry her.

Don’t marry her, if all that she embodies will only be a life sentence, and not a life blessing.

Don’t marry her, if she is not the beginning and only the end.

Don’t marry her, if years and children down later, you believe you would’ve lived a better life without her.

Don’t marry her, if each child born, will not make you acknowledge the life she is willing to give you; the commitment she saves only for you, the depth that grows with every heartbeat she has birthed for you.

Don’t marry her, if each child unborn, will not make your heart ache not only as much as her, but for her, and with her.

Don’t marry her, if you cannot see all the ways she loves your family, even in ways you may have never known.

Don’t marry her, if you are not willing to love her family, as fiercely as she loves yours.

Don’t marry her, for her temporary face, and her body in this moment of time.

Don’t marry her, if you can’t recognize her soul among the sea of bodies calling your name.

Don’t marry her, if you cannot see all the ways she loves you, in all the places that hurt, in all the places that you hate.

Don’t marry her, if you cannot love her in all the ways she has never known, in all the places that hurt, in all the places that she hates.

Don’t marry her, if a lifetime is more than enough to know her, to be with her. Because I will tell you, that a lifetime to her, would be too short, and nearly enough time, to be with you.

Don’t marry her, to receive acknowledgement; to fill the shoes of the men before you.

Don’t marry her, to fit the only acceptable image of a successful son.

Don’t marry her, if every decision you make, does not have her in mind, as she has you in hers.

Don’t marry her, if her very existence, could be forgotten and traded for the attention of youthful lust.

Please, please, please, don’t marry her. Not her.

And if I could go back, I would tell you:

Please don’t marry him. Please don’t marry him to find a place of belonging, to save face, to free yourself, to be whole, to be accepted, to survive.

Don’t marry. Don’t make the hearts of your future children bleed. Don’t break your own hearts for something that didn’t have to be. No longer live, blaming your pain and places of hurt on other people, on other things, on culture, on society. Don’t carry burdens that don’t need to be carried. Face your own truth, face your own consequences, face the very reality that everyone has it hard, that everyone is dealing and struggling with something unimaginable—but yet they still strive to give unconditional love.

And if you choose to receive this unconditional love, you must be willing and committed every moment of the way, to give this back too.

And if that is too hard, then please, please don’t choose it at all.