I always thought that when I got my passport stamped for the first time, I’d be giddy, excited, maybe a little overwhelmed—but mostly, just thrilled to finally go somewhere far. What I didn’t expect was how emotional it would be. Because my first trip abroad wasn’t just about seeing a new place. It was about fulfilling a quiet promise… one my late mother never got to see come true for me.

She Always Talked About Taking Me to Hong Kong. She travelled a lot and Hong Kong was one of the first ones she ever visited. For as long as I can remember, my mother talked about taking me to Hong Kong. Not in a flashy, bucket-list kind of way, but with a soft sense of longing. She’d mention the skyline, Disneyland, the food, the night markets, and how alive the city felt. She’d say things like, “One day, you and I are going to go there. Just you and me.” She wanted me to try international travel because in all of hers, she said I was the missing piece. 

Life, as it does, got in the way. Between responsibilities, family, time, and money, “one day” kept getting pushed further and further out. Then came the illness. Then came the loss. And just like that, the trip we always talked about became something that could never happen. At least, not with her.

So When I Finally Had The Chance, It Felt Different

I didn’t expect the weight in my chest as I packed my bags. I didn’t expect to cry in the airport bathroom. And I definitely didn’t expect to feel her presence so strongly in my unguarded moments.

But she was there.

She was in the way I marveled at the city lights from the Star Ferry.

She was in the bowl of steaming noodles that tasted like comfort.

She was in every moment I stood in awe, whispering, “Ma, we made it.”

It Was More Than Just a Trip. It Was a Healing.

Being there without her hurt in a way I didn’t anticipate. But it also felt like a quiet victory. A way of honoring her dream of taking me there by actually living it. I realized I wasn’t just going to Hong Kong for her. I was going with her. Carrying her memory through crowded streets, amusement parks, and moments of stillness. Carrying her with my kids... Hugging her through them.

There were tears. There was joy. There was laughter at silly things she would’ve said. And there was this overwhelming sense of closeness that surprised me every step of the way. How can it feel like she's right there with me?

Grieving someone doesn’t stop when you board a plane. In fact, sometimes, it shows up more loudly. But so does love. And love will sneak up on you in the form of a breeze, a view, a smell from a food stall that makes you pause and say, “She would’ve loved this.”

In the End, I Didn’t Go Alone

I went to Hong Kong with a suitcase, my kids, and DBS fam, and a heart full of memories. I touched a place she dreamed of taking me to, and in doing so, I touched part of her longing that still lives in me. This trip was more than sightseeing. It was ticking off a plan from our bucket list, a tribute, a prayer answered in its own unexpected way.

We didn’t make it there together. 

But her simple dream of taking me there did.

And so did my kids.

And that’s the most beautiful part-- dreams don’t die with people.

Sometimes, they just wait for us to carry them home.