It’s a weird feeling.
Returning from my hometown back to Delhi.
As the train races on the platform with faces of people full of hope, I see my face in the glass windows of the train, utterly confused. Perhaps lost too.
Each visit with parents that once used to be filled with joy and fun, is off-late filled with (mostly self-induced) guilt, if my Mom is working too much at 65 because of my presence, if my father will ever take himself easy at 70 because with God’s grace he doesn’t need to push too much; or if I am a good daughter to them.
But as I reflect further, I also think that my tension and worries won’t do any good to them. If there is any way I could be there for my parents (apart from being there, and also being there financially) it is to be happy myself.
Happiness and contentment that stems from the heart is something every parent cherishes, and even gets better by. Spending time with these two shows that if there is a height of heights of selflessness, it is vested in parents.
Past few years of experience has taught me that you cannot change your parents to slow down, to take more care of themselves, even if your intents are good, so why not accept how they are doing what they are doing, and be happy in your own life.
Sometimes, our satisfaction despite their very own visible pain is what our parents mostly need. ❤️
