Some have written about their fathers. Some may have fathers who still live. Some have fathers who have passed away. Mine is on my thoughts always. My father is bedridden. The sad things about being bedridden is sometimes you got forgotten in the hecticness of life around you.
Imagine being immobile. The children visited you when they have times. But they have nothing to talk to you about except for hello and greetings about the first 3 minutes when they arrived and goodbyes in the last 2 minutes before they left. It’s all out of respect and mainly guilt of being the children of a sick parent.
Imagine the frustration yet unable to say it. Imagine the pain of the bone in every slightest movement. The pain in the thinness of the skin when it stretched. Imagine the headache of lying day after day, month after month immobile. Imagine the boredom. Where are my children? Why am I so lonely? Why am I still living this painful life?
The above was what I always imagine what my father is going through. And yet I am still one of the children I just mentioned. The one who was raised to be successful and independent and yet helpless when it comes to taking care of a parent.
Many2 times when I am at my parents house, I noticed my father got forgotten. We just passed by him Chasing our children. Minding our business. Enjoying the get togetherness between mother, children and siblings. Everybody is enjoying themselves yet he was not included.
Yet my mind went back to the time before he was bed ridden just a couple of years ago. Always sitting on the porch to see us go. Always have this look that I had interpreted as concern.
You know what my secret is. I always thought I was my father’s favourite child when I grew up. That was what I believe secretly whether it be true or not. But when I became adult somehow I felt I was a disappointment to him. I don’t know why I thought I failed him.
There are memories that I have of him. He was the one who cried when I left to go oversea to further my study. He cried on my shoulder when I took his hand to kiss. Nobody else ever did cry on me.
When he visited me when I started my job, he was so proud when he saw my full name on the door of my office. He said to my mother, “see there was my name not your name on the door” referring to the surname.
There were thousand of things he did for me that I cannot possibly list here. His difficulty in trying to raise a new generation which he wanted to be better than him were those that I remembered the most. There were a great lack of money but lots of sweat, effort and advices and that’s what I appreciate and cherished most. I can still remember the sweat on his forehead and a big smile on his face when he saw me coming to him each month he visited me at the boarding school for 5 years I was there.
I still remember he kissed the money I gave him when one day I decided to just hand some money to him.
I remember I showed him my report card each term and he said I was so clever. Just what he wanted. Keep it up.
When I grew up we never went for holiday to create memories which most parents do nowadays with their children which is to create happy memories. I wonder sometimes, are children really going to appreciate the happy memories or still wanting more as they grow older. Or are children going to remember more of our difficulties in raising them and they will grow to appreciate us more?
Are we as parents want to have grateful children or just want to let them will grow up and go away.
I thought what a life we go through but life is always a cycle isn’t it?
