Going Back to Where Our Family Started: A Bittersweet Journey to Seattle
Updated: Sep 13
Last summer, I took my parents on a journey back to Seattle, Washington. On the surface, the trip was a visit to my brother and his family. But Seattle holds a much deeper place in our family’s history. It isn’t just where my brother lives now; it is where my parents spent their early days as young immigrants to America, and it is the birthplace of both my brother and me.
My parents standing in front of the giant "W" at the University of Washington—the very campus where my dad earned his PhD decades ago.
Decades ago, my mom worked tirelessly at whatever jobs she could find—as a nanny, a housekeeping attendant, and a hairstylist—to support my dad while he studied and earned his PhD in Linguistics. Taking them back to this city was beautiful, but it was also very bittersweet. I knew, given their age and health, that this would likely be their first and last time visiting their son’s home.
The Reality of Accessible Travel
As a caregiver, you quickly learn that love means doing a million little things behind the scenes to keep everyone safe and comfortable, even in the smallest, most stressful details. I completely underestimated how challenging it would be to fly with two elderly parents—one living with dementia (my dad) and one requiring a wheelchair (my mom).
While my dad could walk with a cane and the airport provided wheelchair service, I still had to manage the luggage of three people. Even with checked bags, just getting everything to and from the car to the terminal was an exhausting physical feat. It was a firsthand, eye-opening lesson in how challenging travel can be for those with disabilities, and how limited accessibility and hands-on help can truly be.
A Moment of Gratitude: I want to give a massive shoutout and props to Ontario International Airport. The level of assistance they provide to travelers with disabilities is unmatched. Their employees were incredibly kind, compassionate, and helpful when we needed it most.
The Heartbreaking Reality of Going Back
When we arrived, my brother picked us up from the airport. I sat in the passenger seat, with my parents in the back. As we drove, we gently asked my dad if he knew who was driving the car.
He had no idea.
It had only been two months since he last saw his son. But the unfamiliar environment of the airport and car had triggered a wave of confusion—a common and heartbreaking reality for dementia patients whose brains struggle to process sudden environmental changes. I quietly turned around and explained to him that the man driving was my brother, his son.
Our time at my brother's house was a constant reminder of my dad's dementia. He would shuffle around late at night when everyone was sleeping, rummaging through items and putting away clothes that didn't belong to him. He would forget where the bathroom was and need to be guided. There was even a scary episode where he walked outside of my brother's family business when I was distracted and was found wandering down the street. As much as the trip was a vacation for him, I couldn't wait to get him back to the safe, familiar environment of his memory care facility.
Despite those incredibly stressful moments, the trip also gave us memories we will cherish forever. We spent priceless time with my brother's family, especially my parents' only grandson. They reconnected with old friends, and we listened to stories of a lifetime ago. We visited the University of Washington, driving through the campus where my dad earned his PhD and passing by the hospital where I was born.
Looking around, my dad softly remarked on how much everything had changed. It had been 51 years since they left.
Looking out at Lake Washington, my mom asked me if I knew what her job was while she lived here. She worked in housekeeping in a hotel.
Carrying My Own Heavy Secret
What my parents didn't know—and what I couldn't bring myself to tell them—was the weight I was carrying in my own heart.
I took this trip just one week after returning from a Seattle and Alaska trip with my husband and daughters. It was a chaotic timeline, but it was urgent: this trip with my parents was the exact reason my mastectomy date had to be pushed back.
Throughout the entire trip, as I wheeled my mom and guided my dad, they had no idea what lay ahead for me. How could I tell them? It would have broken their hearts, and as their sole caregiver, my focus had to be on their peace. To this day, as I continue to care for them, they still don’t know.
It was, without a doubt, a physically and emotionally grueling trip. But looking back at the memories made, the old stories shared, and the quiet moments by the lake, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. I wanted to do this for them, and I am so incredibly grateful that we did.
