Lately, I've been having a lot of thoughts. My daughter just turned 27 this year.

It feels like just yesterday that we started living in America, and now my daughter is at the age to get married.

We've been settled in Palisades Park for over twenty years now. I came to America with my husband when my daughter was six.

When I first arrived, I couldn't speak English and was scared to drive, so I stayed home for a while.

Then, as I started sending my daughter to school, I began to meet other parents, visit Korean markets, and go to church, gradually adapting to the neighborhood.

Since Palisades Park has a large Korean community, I think that helped me feel more at home. There are plenty of places to buy Korean groceries, and hospitals where they speak Korean, which was very reassuring.

My daughter only attended kindergarten in Korea, so English is almost her first language. She understands Korean perfectly since we only speak it at home, but sometimes she struggles to find the right words when speaking.

Still, I'm grateful that she always speaks to her mom and dad in Korean. She graduated from Rutgers and now works at a company in Manhattan. She has been living independently in a small apartment in Fort Lee for two years now. Although she visits often since it's only a twenty-minute drive, it's different from when we lived together.

She has a boyfriend now. He's a second-generation Korean American, mature, has a stable job, and comes from a respectable family, which I appreciate.

They've been seriously dating for just over a year, and if things continue like this, I think marriage talks will come up next year. As a parent, I couldn't ask for more than for her to find a good partner and settle down. But now that marriage talks are starting to surface, I strangely feel an emptiness in my heart.

Looking back on my years since immigrating, raising my daughter has been almost everything. My husband leaves early for work and comes home late, while I pick her up from school, send her off, and help with her homework, and before I know it, the day is gone. I think I tried to take extra care of her because I felt guilty about not being able to speak English well.

I made an effort to attend events to support her friends and volunteered at school. I lived my life trying to raise my daughter well, but now that she's getting married, she will truly be leaving my hands.

I've imagined what it would be like if it were just my husband and me. Our relationship is not bad.

But after living for over twenty years centered around our daughter, I wonder what we would talk about if it were just the two of us.

Koreans often say that once the children are grown, only the couple is left, and some find it awkward to live together at that point.

Honestly, I'm a bit worried that we might feel the same way. Since my husband is still working, he will be alone during the day, and I don't know how to fill that long time.

If we were in Korea, my family and friends would be nearby, so I wouldn't feel as lonely, but that's not the case here.

My mother has already passed away, and all my siblings are in Korea. Even though we can video call, we can't do it often because of the time difference. It seems like all my friends I've made in America are also busy dealing with their own emotions as they marry off their children around the same time.

These days, I'm intentionally trying to start something new. I registered for an English class at the local community center and started exercising once a week with the church ladies.

I know there will be joy in seeing grandchildren later, but I've heard that parents who interfere too much are not liked. I think I need to prepare myself to live with some distance.

I've lived my life hoping for my daughter to get married and be happy, but now that day is approaching, I understand what it means to feel bittersweet.

I'm curious how others who have gone through similar experiences have spent that time.