It had been seventeen years since I saw my parents last, and the hurt from our past still hurt. But nothing could have prepared me for the shock on their faces when they came up to my front door and saw how fancy my house was.
When I was 17, I went against my parents’ wishes for me to become a doctor. That was the start of my journey. They thought it was funny that I wanted to become an actress and a business owner. My dad said to me, “You were born to be a doctor.” He meant it in a mean way. After the fight, they threw me out.
I set out on a hard road with only $100 and a bag of clothes. It was hard for me to make ends meet because I couch-surfed and did odd jobs. But I didn’t give up, and in the end I built a successful business and starring career.
At the same time, my family was most proud of my famous older brother, who is a doctor. His accomplishments were more impressive than mine, and our parents never asked me about my life or wins.
After many years, my parents moved again and came back to Sydney. But the city’s housing market was hard to understand, even for doctors. They were having a hard time finding a cheap house, so I asked them to come look at mine.
When they walked into my modern, well-landscaped haven, their faces went blank. My dad was shocked and asked, “This is your place?” I said, “Yeah, I own it.”
They went from being amazed to shocked to accusing. They asked, “How did you afford this?” as if you were rich in a dishonest way. But I set the record straight: I had made a good living in business.
Their tone changed from angry to desperate. “Please take us in,” my mom begged. “We can’t be seen as worse off than our own son.” I knew what they were trying to do, so I laughed.
“You think you can judge me, make unfounded accusations, and then ask to live in my home?” I asked. “After 17 years of silence?”
Their faces turned serious, and my dad threatened to take away my inheritance. But I just shrugged it off. “What will I do without the inheritance from people who can’t afford to live in my neighborhood?”
At that moment, I understood that our meeting wasn’t about making peace; it was about them wanting to take back their history. But I made my own.
They were leaving when my mom said in a whisper, “We just wanted the best for you.” But I smiled because I knew what was true. “You wanted your own best interests,” I stated. “But I’ve made my own legacy, and it’s much bigger than you thought.”
