The forlorn lives of Vietnamese seniors living abroad

"When the snow falls thick, I spend the entire day indoors, feeling like my limbs are useless," the 65-year-old, who lives in Edmonton, Alberta, says.

She divorced early and raised her child alone in Dak Lak in Vietnam’s Central Highlands. Over a decade ago her daughter married and settled in Canada, and then sponsored Thu’s emigration to that country.

Initially she resisted the move to an unfamiliar country with a language she did not speak and a life far removed from her farm and vegetable garden. But after five years of missing her daughter and grandchildren, she finally agreed to move.

In mid-2020 she arrived in the warmth of summer, greeted by clear skies and blooming flowers. At first caring for her grandchildren and occasional shopping trips with the family kept her engaged.

But within weeks the initial charm faded to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of loneliness, especially when the household left for work and school.

She tried walking around the neighborhood to ease her mind but soon turned back, unable to figure out how to use the pedestrian crossing button. Her neighbors lived far apart, their doors shut, and interactions were rare.

The nearest Vietnamese market and restaurant were a 15-minute drive away—an impossible distance for someone who did not know how to call a taxi. She felt trapped.

Each time loneliness struck, she thought of Vietnam, where everything was within walking distance. At dinner, her family conversed in English, a language she could not understand.

Silent, she ate quickly and retreated to her room. "I felt utterly alone," she recalls.

Her isolation deepened when winter arrived, compounded by the Covid pandemic. The biting cold was unbearable, layering up felt unnatural, and she rarely went outside. Frustration grew as she struggled with her new reality.

By late 2020 she broke down in tears, and pleaded to return to Vietnam. She booked four flights, all of which were canceled due to travel restrictions. Her fear grew—what if she never made it back home? "No matter how many years I live here, I will never belong," she says.

Thu is one of an estimated 100,000 Vietnamese who emigrate annually, according to the international migration and settlement support organization NTTC. Around 5% are over 60, and many struggle with language barriers and cultural isolation.

A University of California (the U.S.) survey found that 80% of Vietnamese residents in California State have limited English proficiency.

In 2019 The Orange County Register cited a study of nearly 200,000 seniors in the state’s Orange County that found that 46% could not communicate in English and relied on medical and community support services.

"Older Vietnamese immigrants face significant challenges in the U.S. Many experience chronic loneliness due to language barriers, the loss of familiar community ties, difficulty adjusting to modern life, and insufficient social support," Carla Perissinotto, a geriatric medicine professor at the University of California, says.

Her research, published in JAMA Internal Medicine, found that elderly individuals experiencing prolonged loneliness had a 45% higher risk of mortality and significant declines in physical function, including eating, bathing and mobility.

Vinh, 75, visited Vietnam in February 2022 after moving to Taiwan in 2005 to live with her youngest daughter. Photo courtesy of Vinh

Chronic loneliness also induces stress, triggering inflammatory diseases that affect the heart, brain and overall health.

"A key indicator is the feeling of being isolated and left out of society," she notes.

Truong Tien, who manages a support project for Vietnamese in the U.S., says loneliness among older immigrants is widespread due to stark differences in lifestyle.

Houses in America are not close together like in Vietnam, and so many Vietnamese feel disoriented when they lose their community-driven way of life, he explains.

While Vietnamese communities exist in some U.S. states, they are often scattered, requiring long drives to meet others.

Tien regularly visits churches in Houston and Austin, where more than 20 elderly Vietnamese gather weekly to pray and talk. "Deep down, they all long for a big family abroad," he says.

In 2007 Ngoc Minh sold her house in HCMC and moved her family to Toronto, Canada. She assumed her 65-year-old mother, an outgoing and sociable woman, would adapt easily.

Reality proved otherwise. Minh’s parents lived in a two-story house with her. She chose a home near an Asian market, but few Vietnamese lived nearby.

Every winter her mother struggled. Unaccustomed to wearing shoes, she sometimes forgot them altogether, exposing her feet to frostbite.

When Minh gave birth, her mother became even more isolated, confined indoors with little to do. Though she never voiced her feelings, Minh sensed her mother’s loneliness.

Two weeks after her delivery she took her mother out—riding the bus, shopping and enrolling her in a free English class to help her integrate.

"Even young people often struggle in the first two years abroad," she says. "If they overcome that phase, they stay. If not, they remain trapped in the cycle of longing for home."

But her family had already sold everything in Vietnam—there was no way back. Perissinotto emphasizes that living in a Vietnamese community helps reduce loneliness and health risks among the elderly.

She urges healthcare providers to ask immigrant patients about their experiences with isolation and what support they have.

"There is no one-size-fits-all solution. Some need more social interaction, while others need to strengthen existing relationships. Above all, the elderly must feel valued—as an integral part of their family, culture and society."

Thu has since joined a Protestant church in Edmonton, where she meets people her age and has slowly made friends.

Over the years she learned how to use a phone to call home. Now, every evening, she chats with her relatives in Vietnam, making her days feel a little less lonely.

Meanwhile, 75-year-old Vinh still remembers the day she arrived in Taiwan two decades ago with four suitcases filled with fish sauce, noodles and canned food from HCMC.

She had four children and loved her life in Vietnam but moved abroad to help her youngest daughter raise a newborn.

At first she relied entirely on her daughter and son-in-law. Even during outings, they would wait outside public restrooms, fearing she would get lost. Unable to eat Taiwanese food, she rationed her Vietnamese supplies.

When they finally ran out, homesickness hit her hard. One day, after struggling for ten minutes to buy two bags of sugar at a Taipei grocery store, she broke down in tears.

That moment pushed her to learn the language. She started with the phrase, "What is this?" pointing at objects and writing down the words her grandchild taught her.

Gradually, she memorized food names, learned to ask for prices, and eventually figured out how to take the bus to meet friends. "If I did not help myself, I would have remained trapped in loneliness forever," she says.