Life is Beautiful – or Sucks

Life is beautiful. Life also sucks. Big time. My father has been sick. I worry about him. I also worry, even more, about my mother. She has had a tough life. When she first married my father, she went and lived with my father’s family, which was pretty big. All of my uncles were still in school and my mother had to start the day earlier than everyone else, rising early to ensure a full cooked breakfast was served to everyone who wanted one. She felt lonely in a big household and my father travelled often in his work as a salesman of my grandfather’s business. She also had full responsibility for the upkeep of the whole household etc. etc. Like I said, she had it tough. We only moved out of the big house when I was maybe 6 or 7.

Financially, my father never made it. Mom had to baby-sit for various families to ensure bills were paid and food was served. I know first hand the financial difficulties she has had to bear, to carry the family through.

Her baby-sitting meant interrupted sleep was a norm and her health was never optimum as the stress of caring for young children stayed with her for years. I say again – she had a tough life.

I have an uncle who was a gem of a person. His generosity, his kindness and his sense of humour were enduring traits which made me cry last night as I went to sleep. And again this morning. He died yesterday. I think he died a broken man. His wife abandoned him a number of years ago, his children ignored him and it was my mother and another auntie (my mother’s elder sister – my “tua yee”) who has been looking after this uncle for the past few years. He has not been well. He needed a lot of care and my mother and tua-yee tended to him. When they found him struggling for dear life yesterday and then find themselves having to deal with his death without his children around, it became too much for them. My mother was distraught. Life has been hard on my mother.

Last night as I thought about these things – about this uncle and his sufferings, and about my mother and her hard life, I found it hard to not to cry. I was sombre and in a dark mood as I prepared dinner last night, and this morning, much as I didn’t feel like going for my run, I made myself go and took it out on the treadmill, pounding hard. When I came back, I found my daughter going about her usual routines, except she was doing all those things on her own, unprompted. She was being an angel and I thought wifey may have had a word with her. It only cemented the knowledge of how much family meant or should mean in one’s life. We need to find it within ourselves, almost at all cost, to make peace, to build bridges, to show love and to love, where family is concerned. No one should go to his grave thinking his family abandoned him. I think my uncle did, and I still cant get my head around that.

I have my issues with my father. Yet recently, I have had this urge to see him, to tell him that I DO love him, that I want him to be happy. With the events of the past 2 days, that urge has strengthened. I now want to see him as well as my mother, and just to spend time with the both of them. For the first time in years (maybe even ever), I have begun missing my parents. I want to get things right with them. I want a relationship with them which would give both they and myself, peace when it is time for either of them, or myself, to leave this world. That would be beautiful. Not having that would make life suck. Big time.

“So, I commend the enjoyment of life.” (From the Bible – really. Eccl 8:15)