Went to a family trip yesterday. It felt good going out after what seemed like ages.
One significant moment there was when I cought my father crying. We were sitting beside this lake, sipping coffee. Telling my brother and I, one of Tagore's short story- Kabliwala. He said, growing up, he had been fond of it and this story touched his heart....
Trust me, No one can describe a story better than my father. Most people lack it. Emotions. My father is an emotional person. At the end of the story, his voices cracked. And soon I realized, he is smiling to hide the tears in the corner of his eyes. I melted at the sight. How can I ever not listen to this man? How can I ever complain about our house, my limited freedoms to this man? Whose heart is as clear as a crystal. Who never harmed anyone. Even never thought of harming any one. My father who has his own problems, tackles us, works hard to get us a degree so we can have a future. Also tries his hardest to keep his wife happy, takes us all on a trip on their anniversary. Also makes sure our driver gets equally treated, he spends extra cash on his breakfast, lunch and snacks. In most families, they don't even think about eating with their driver on the same table. Every time I see m father being kind and soft to other people, I die a little bit. Because, I am not that kind like him. I won't be able to save his legacy. I won't be anything like my father. I already complain so much to him. I am a selfish brat who only thinks about herself, not even her family.
I sometimes wonder. How will I survive without this person beside me. Constantly checking on if I am okay. If I am doing good in the academic. Constantly making sure, I am not turning my future into waste. Every decision I take involves asking him. Even the decisions that doesn't require him. He is the world to me. I can't bear the fact that he's getting old and grey. It's hard seeing him need us. Need me. I am more accustomed to needing him. He was my courage.
Yesterday I realized, Again. I have to be responsible now. This is the time I take over. This is the time I work hard and prepare myself so I can take care of him and my mother. So I can take more than half of the tensions they bear in each other. I have to succeed. I have to work on myself. A lot.
One significant moment there was when I cought my father crying. We were sitting beside this lake, sipping coffee. Telling my brother and I, one of Tagore's short story- Kabliwala. He said, growing up, he had been fond of it and this story touched his heart....
Trust me, No one can describe a story better than my father. Most people lack it. Emotions. My father is an emotional person. At the end of the story, his voices cracked. And soon I realized, he is smiling to hide the tears in the corner of his eyes. I melted at the sight. How can I ever not listen to this man? How can I ever complain about our house, my limited freedoms to this man? Whose heart is as clear as a crystal. Who never harmed anyone. Even never thought of harming any one. My father who has his own problems, tackles us, works hard to get us a degree so we can have a future. Also tries his hardest to keep his wife happy, takes us all on a trip on their anniversary. Also makes sure our driver gets equally treated, he spends extra cash on his breakfast, lunch and snacks. In most families, they don't even think about eating with their driver on the same table. Every time I see m father being kind and soft to other people, I die a little bit. Because, I am not that kind like him. I won't be able to save his legacy. I won't be anything like my father. I already complain so much to him. I am a selfish brat who only thinks about herself, not even her family.
I sometimes wonder. How will I survive without this person beside me. Constantly checking on if I am okay. If I am doing good in the academic. Constantly making sure, I am not turning my future into waste. Every decision I take involves asking him. Even the decisions that doesn't require him. He is the world to me. I can't bear the fact that he's getting old and grey. It's hard seeing him need us. Need me. I am more accustomed to needing him. He was my courage.
Yesterday I realized, Again. I have to be responsible now. This is the time I take over. This is the time I work hard and prepare myself so I can take care of him and my mother. So I can take more than half of the tensions they bear in each other. I have to succeed. I have to work on myself. A lot.
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