‘It gives me goosebumps’: The graduation gift from the woman Yung calls ‘Mum’

In 2000, Vietnamese-born Yung Starling, 49 and a dental hygienist, found herself in Australia alone and in trouble. Then she met ex-nurse Sharman Palmer, 76, who became the loving mother she’d longed for.

Sharman Palmer and Yung Starling. “I call her my ‘adopted daughter without the paperwork’,” says Palmer.Credit: Louise Kennerley

Yung: I arrived here from Vietnam in 1999 as a student. I’m from a family of 10 and my sister was supposed to go but changed her mind. My parents said I had to go to help the family. My mother didn’t come to see me off.

I arrived with $100. My parents had only paid for 20 weeks of study fees, so I had to get all sorts of jobs. I was 24 but so innocent. I got married to survive, but my husband turned out to be a gambler and an alcoholic and was violent. By the time I met Sharman, in 2000, I was working as a cleaner at the Mater Hospital [in North Sydney] and living in a women’s refuge in Bondi.

Sharman was a ward clerk. One day, she came into the garbage room where I was cleaning. She asked if I was Vietnamese and began talking to me. She lived in Bondi, too, and offered to drive me to and from the refuge to work every day. I think she could feel that I needed help.

It was the start of something very special. She started asking me out for dinner with her and her husband, Dave, inviting me to the family Christmas lunches and gave me a key to her house and set up a spare room, in case I ever needed a safe place. Sharman didn’t just help me: she made me feel I belonged.

Any time I’m upset about a problem, I call her. I never feel like that with my biological mum. One time, when I was struggling, working very hard and sending a lot of money back home, Sharman told me: “Honey, you’ve done enough; you can’t buy love.” I realised she was right.

‘She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.’

Yung Starling

I’m so grateful to Sharman and Dave, who was a dentist, for setting me on my path. I’m wearing the gold and sapphire ring Sharman gave me when I completed my first bachelor’s degree – in oral health – in 2009. They both came to the ceremony and took me out for dinner; I’d never been to a fancy restaurant. When she showed me the gift, I felt overwhelmed. Sharman said, “We’ve given each of our daughters a ring when they graduated.” That made me feel … oh, my god, it gives me goosebumps. I call her Mum; she’s my mum in every way that matters.

Adam and I got married in 2012. Sharman and Dave were witnesses here and flew over for the traditional wedding in Vietnam. I was so touched when Sharman finished her speech in Vietnamese; she’d been practising in secret!

If Sharman doesn’t agree with something, she doesn’t say anything. I learnt that from her: don’t say a negative thing. I know she thinks I expect too much from my children – that I’m too harsh. If I say I want Ayla [aged 12] or William [10] to do such and such, she’ll just say, “Hmm.” Then I know she doesn’t approve.

She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. Gave me a family here. Encouraged me. Maybe that would make my biological mum sad, but I don’t remember her ever kissing me on the head and saying, “I love you” or “Good job”.

Sharman is 76 now and, while I don’t want to tread on anyone’s toes, if she needs care as she gets older, I would love to do that for her.

Sharman: I recognised her name as Vietnamese and we got talking. She was so sweet. Then I found out she was living in a women’s refuge. I started to pick her up and drop her off and got to know her story. She was cleaning at the Mater five days a week and cooking at a restaurant on the northern beaches on the other two. Without a car. She was sending money home – and it was never enough.

I could see she was vulnerable, but I could also see her potential. My husband was a dentist and I asked him if he could help get her a start as a dental nurse.

At some point, she started calling me Mum. I call her my “adopted daughter without the paperwork”. All of us, including my two older daughters, just see her as part of the family.

Yung could have stayed as a dental nurse, but she went on to do an assistant’s certificate, then a dental radiography course, then said she wanted to go to university; she now has two degrees. She gives us far too much credit. We gave her the step up, but she’s done the rest; she’s never once asked me for anything.

‘Yung is always wanting to get me gifts, but I find them hard to accept. I don’t believe she has to repay me anything.’

Sharman Palmer

She can be bossy and she’s a perfectionist. Even when she’s cooking or cleaning, it has to be the absolute best. She used to give my cupboards a swipe if she thought they were grubby. I remember being in her kitchen for a party once, chopping the lettuce for the spring rolls. Yung walked by, looked at the lettuce, looked at me. I said, “Is there something wrong?” She went away, but couldn’t help coming back and saying, “Maybe if you do it this way.”

At her wedding in Danang, it was very special to be formally introduced as the bride’s foster parents. We’re so proud of her. In my speech, I basically said how fantastic Yung was, what she’d achieved and how hard it had been.

Yung has had problems over-trusting people. A few years ago, she was in a partnership in a dental business and it broke down; she lost a lot of money. That really rocked her and she came close to a breakdown. But she said, “I came to Australia with $100. I can do it again.” Now she’s got this amazing mobile dental bus [Starling Dental] with this state-of-the art equipment. She also does a lot of volunteer work.

She’s always wanting to get me gifts, but I find them hard to accept. I don’t believe she has to repay me anything. A few years ago, she said she wanted to get a coffee machine and asked us which was the best one. Next minute, she’s here with it. She said, “I’ll take your old one. I’m young enough. I can wait.”

I used to think she was too hard on her children. Warm, but strict. They couldn’t muck up: you know, if they coloured outside the lines, she’d rub it out. Now she says she was right because they’ve turned out so well. But maybe part of my influence has been showing it’s OK to have a laugh.

I can’t imagine them not being in our lives. We were at the pool once with the kids and this woman was watching Adam and said to me, “I love the way your son is with the children.” I said, “He’s actually my son-in-law.” That’s usually a conversation-stopper.

To read more from Good Weekend magazine, visit our page at The Sydney Morning Herald, The Age and Brisbane Times.