"I love you" or a plate of cut fruit?

Some families say it at every goodbye. Some never say it at all. An immigrant mother, her Canadian-born daughter, her son-in-law and his grandfather.

See It From · November 1, 2026

A small plate of peeled, neatly sliced apple wedges with a fruit knife beside it on a kitchen table

The thing itself

"I love you" takes a second to say. In some homes it ends every phone call. In others it's never said out loud, and love shows up as food, rides, savings and worry.

In a study of 239 first-generation Chinese American immigrant parents, those with higher family incomes reported being more emotionally expressive at home in general. The researchers say social status, not only culture, shapes how openly parents show feelings (Chen and Zhou, Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 2019).
Writer Viet Thanh Nguyen has described how, in many Asian American families, love was shown through parents' sacrifice and children's obedience rather than in words (The New York Times, January 12, 2019).

Seen from four chairs

Mom, 55, moved from Guangzhou to Markham in 1998

My mother never said it to me. I never thought she didn't love me. She just did things for us.

When my daughter was in high school I cut fruit for her most nights and left it by her desk. I drove her to piano, I saved for her university. To me that's saying it. The words feel a bit like TV, I'm not used to them. When she says it on the phone I usually say "OK, eat properly." I know she wants me to say it back. I'm trying.

Her daughter, 27, born in Markham

When I slept over at friends' houses, their parents said "love you" at the door all the time. I noticed. For a while in high school I honestly wondered if my mom did.

Now I understand the fruit and the driving and all that. I do. But sometimes I just wanted to hear it. After a breakup she came over with soup and told me to wear socks. Which was nice. I say it first now when we hang up. Mostly she says "OK." Once she said "me too" really fast and hung up.

Her husband, 29, grew up in Halifax

In my family we say "love you" at the end of every call. It's automatic. The first few times I met her mom I thought she didn't like me much. She didn't say a lot.

Then every time we visited she sent us home with containers of food, the date written on masking tape. I'm not sure my family would do that. We say it more. I don't know if that means more.

His grandfather, 84, retired fisherman in Nova Scotia

Nobody said it in our house growing up either. My father would say "drive safe" or "you need anything?" That was about it.

I started saying it to my kids when I was around seventy, after my wife got sick. It felt awkward. Still does a bit. But I say it.

In their own words

The four people above are composites. These are real people, in their own words.

“Sometimes people say it so much that it sounds hypocritical. It becomes just words, and words don't mean anything.”

— Writer Wajahat Ali's father, when Ali asked why he never said "I love you" (Gulf News, 2018)

“We don't have the words for it in the language.”

— Ali's father-in-law, a retired Pakistani-American doctor, who now says it often (same essay)

“Food is something I've always associated with my parents' love more than the words "I love you." … At that point, cut fruit never felt like enough of an apology for me.”

— Meggie Chen, high school senior, Cupertino, California (El Estoque, May 2024)

What each of them gets right

The mother is right that love is in what you do every day. The research also suggests money and pressure, not only culture, affect how openly parents show feelings.
The daughter is right that people sometimes need to hear it, and she found she could start it herself.
The husband noticed that years of quiet care count for a lot, even without the words.
The grandfather shows it isn't only about culture. Generation matters too, and people do change late.

One thing to try

Say what you noticed. If your parent shows love without words, you can answer the same way: "Thanks for the fruit." If saying "I love you" feels too heavy, try writing it once, in a card or a text. For a lot of parents that's easier than saying it.

The four people in “Seen from four chairs” are composites, written from the research, reporting and first-person accounts below. They are not real individuals. The quotes under “In their own words” are from real people, as published in the linked sources. Numbers were checked on November 1, 2026.

Sources

More ways of seeing

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