As we reflect on the 50th anniversary of the fall of Saigon, we honor not only the act of survival but the enduring legacy of the Vietnamese refugee journey—a journey defined by unshakable resilience. This story belongs to countless Vietnamese refugees, especially our parents, whose sacrifices and quiet strength shaped our lives and inspired generations to come.
Opening Reflection
When I close my eyes, I can still see it—the past. Time feels paused, like a scene from an old film or a faded photograph.
I hear the rustling wind through the rice paddies, a sound that fills the air with quiet harmony. The fields stretch endlessly, their emerald stalks swaying in the breeze, rolling like waves across the land. The morning mist clings to the earth, lifting slowly as the day unfolds—like a veil revealing the world’s quiet splendor.
This was our life in rural Rạch Giá, in the southwest of Vietnam. A peaceful existence, deeply connected to the land that nourished us. But the tranquility of that life—like the mist—would soon be swept away by the dark clouds of a war-torn future.
The Decision to Leave
In 1982, everything changed. The gentle stillness of our village, the rhythms of everyday life, gave way to a stark reality—one defined by a choice: do we stay, or do we leave? I was just a child, unaware of the full weight of what was happening. One night, I was jolted awake to a house shrouded in silence. The usual sounds were gone, replaced by hushed whispers. My mother came close, her voice trembling. “We are leaving,” she said.
My heart raced. We were supposed to visit my maternal grandmother in central Vietnam—but something in my mother’s eyes told me there was more to it. The air felt heavy. The warmth of the sun, the birds greeting the dawn—all gone. We moved through the house in silence, gathering only the essentials. Everything familiar—every memory of home—was slipping away.
The Perilous Journey
We made our way to a small boat waiting on the shore, barely visible in the dark. The sea, usually calm, now felt vast and menacing.
At the time, I couldn’t grasp the enormity of what lay ahead. We were leaving behind our home, our memories, our lives.
The journey was perilous. The sea was unforgiving, and the risks were unimaginable. We had heard the stories—of pirates, children taken from their families, lives lost to the merciless ocean. Our boat was small and fragile. Each wave reminded us of how vulnerable we were.
Still, we pressed on, carried by hope into an uncertain future.
Our Parents’ Strength
In moments when time seems to stand still, I think of my parents. Their lives are a testament to quiet courage, resilience, and unwavering hope.
They were just children when war ravaged their country. The fall of Saigon in 1975 marked not just the end of an era but the beginning of hardship— poverty, displacement, and instability.
But even in devastation, they carried an inner strength. They endured the aftermath of war, faced impossible odds, and eventually made the hardest choice of all: to leave.
In 1982, with four young children, my parents set sail as boat people. They sought asylum in Thailand and the Philippines, enduring harsh conditions in refugee camps. But they never gave up. Their faith in each other—and in the promise of a better life—kept them moving forward.
Even in the calm between life’s storms, I find myself dreaming of those rice paddies—the familiar sounds, the green fields, and the birds that animated our landscape. I remember especially the herons and egrets, stepping carefully through the flooded fields at dawn.
Their slow, deliberate movements were a quiet strategy for survival—an instinct refined through time. In many ways, this mirrors how our parents approached their journey: careful, purposeful, and focused on securing a future amid chaos.
A New Life in America
Fortune smiled on us when we were granted the opportunity to start fresh in the United States.
We first settled in Florida, where the warmth of the sun felt familiar. But my parents sensed there was more out west—in the golden state of California. With my mother’s quiet strength and my father’s steady determination, we moved to the Inland Empire. There, they founded A&Z Landscaping—a small business built on sleepless nights and a shared dream of building something their own.
What began as a handful of jobs grew steadily. Word spread about their dedication and work ethic, and soon, they were handling major projects across the region. Each milestone wasn’t just business growth—it was proof of what could be achieved through sacrifice and perseverance.
The Inland Empire, a vast stretch of Southern California where desert meets mountains, became home. My parents worked tirelessly, side by side, ensuring every project reflected pride and precision. Even when the weight of the world pressed down, they never stopped working.
Expansion and Adaptation. But my mother was not one to settle.
In 2000, with the same resilience that carried her across oceans, she led our family into a new chapter. This time, it was Georgia—a state known for its thriving poultry industry. There, they bought 88 acres of land and started a commercial chicken farm. Cattle roamed the pastures, and 14 poultry barns each housed 35,000 chickens.
They quickly learned the intricacies of the industry, adapting with discipline and precision. Georgia’s strict regulations provided structure and safety— and in feeding thousands of families, my parents found new purpose.
They weren’t just surviving. They were building something enduring, once again.
Return to California and Later Life
After years of hard work, my parents returned to Southern California and settled into a quieter life. There, they tended to a grove of 400 sugar apple trees and cultivated tropical fruits. In the peace of those hills, they found a kind of joy—a reward for decades of sacrifice.
The fruits they grew symbolized their journey: nurtured through difficulty, transformed into something sweet and sustaining.
Legacy and Reflection
As we commemorate the 50th anniversary of the fall of Saigon, we honor the refugees who fled with nothing but hope. Like my parents, they built new lives from the ashes of the past.
Their resilience shaped not only our family but the broader Vietnamese American community. We’ve become doctors, teachers, military officers, entrepreneurs, public servants. Every one of us carries the lessons they instilled: hard work, perseverance, and the belief that no dream is too big.
The sacrifices of our parents created the foundation on which we now stand. As we reflect on the path they paved, we celebrate the future they made possible.
This Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, I remember the unimaginable journey my parents undertook. Their strength is woven into the fabric of our family—a legacy of survival, love, and relentless hope. Every hardship they endured, every decision they made, was rooted in one unwavering belief: that their children could live a better life.
The fall of Saigon marked the end of one chapter— and the beginning of another. One of resilience, reinvention, and triumph. Our parents are not just survivors. They are visionaries, builders, and beacons.
Their story teaches us that resilience is more than endurance. It’s about creating opportunity where none existed. That legacy lives on in us, as we strive to honor their journey.
So, on this Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, I celebrate my mother and my father—two people who not only survived the fall of Saigon but flourished beyond it. Their legacy will continue through generations, as a testament to what love, courage, and sacrifice can build.
Written By:
Dr. Xuan Vu, MD
A former member of the Air Force, where he served for 10 years before pursuing a career in medicine.
