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"Don't value too much the material things in life, because in one split second, it can all be taken away. Money might make the world go round, but it's the little things in life that matter most. The things that, when you have nothing, shine out before you and show the world that you are something. Honesty, integrity, courage and determination. If you can hold onto those and stay true to yourself, no matter what happens to you, you will survive."

These are the words spoken by my hero my mother.

Born in the sixties choking on a Vietnamese silver spoon, my mother's life started off very sheltered. Her lifestyle orbited around vast estates, motor vehicles, coffers full of jewels, education and music. A carefree life fit for a princess until one day in her adolescence the turrets of her castle fell down and in true fairytale format, the darkness took over and everything around her was painted a bloody red.

The redness spread throughout South Vietnam, slaughtering the rich and raping the poor. All is fair in love and war they say but where is the fairness in capturing a man, his crime being successful and able to provide for his family. Where is the fairness in the concentration camps that follow, the pillaging of homes, the prison that is your own basement, whilst forced to watch the family dog shot and consumed by the redness that was everywhere.

Imagine being in a nightmare where everything that you knew was now a lie and everything you held dear, was no longer yours. When nightmare becomes reality, your survival dependant on whether or not a country that was not your birthright chose to adopt you. When fear turns to desperation and the only way out is a little fishing boat that may or may not make it through the tropical storms.

My mother was one of the lucky ones. Her boat made it through the storms. No words can describe the realizations of waking to a beautiful sunrise only to discover that all around you scattered like confetti were remnants of boats that were no more. It's true what they say, when you have seen death, you learn to live.

After two years spent on a refugee camp in Malaysia, my parents were adopted by Australia. The art of rebirth learn to walk for oneself, eat for oneself and talk for oneself. After rebirth, comes rebuild, the art of working day and night in order to sow enough beans to grow a beanstalk so your children had the chance to conquer the world and never suffer like you have suffered.

My beanstalk was about half way to the sky when the darkness came again. I was too young to understand why my mother one day said to me "You're the eldest daughter, there will come one day when I am no longer here and you must rule this household look after your brother and sister." My mother lived in a glass prison in the months that followed, but it was the cure' that held her this time rather then physical force. "What is radiation dad?" Silence was my answer. It wasn't until many years later, that I learned what cancer was, but by this time my mother was cured and the subject was taboo.

Thirty years after she first set foot in this promised land, my mother is able to look back and be proud of what she has achieved. She has always instilled in us the belief that life is never a straight line. With courage and determination we can make it through the detours and come out the other side stronger never poorer, so long as we don't sell our soul in the process. Wealth is not measured by the number of dollar signs in your bank account, it's the experience that lies in your heart. This is the lesson my mother taught me. This is why she is my hero. "When I grow up, I want to be just like mum".

Learn more about this author, Ellen Quach.
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