Last Thursday was my mother’s birthday, and today is father’s day. Since it has been a week centred on parents, I thought I’d post about them. Instead of sharing something new, though, I thought I’d post something from my former blog on Multiply.
Jan 20, ’09
This one is going to make me sound like I’m whining… I know it.
A few weeks ago I was with my best friend and we were talking about the year 2008. It was a pretty dark year for both of us, for different and yet similar reasons. Sometime during our conversation, we asked ourselves: What happened to our parents? When did they stop being superheroes?
Do you remember when our parents always had the answers? When everything they did was right, and there was nothing they couldn’t do? When did it all end? Was there a time limit we weren’t made aware of?
The past five years have been eye openers for me as to my parents being human too. They do make mistakes. They do mess up, and they are oh so far from perfect. I think a few of my friends had to realise the same thing last year, and it is a pretty tough thing to swallow, especially when you’ve lived a life that was sheltered and seen through those ever-popular rose coloured glasses.
It is hard to accept when our parents fail us. Yes. Fail us, or so we believe since they hadn’t done so in the past. Disappoint us is probably a better word. It’s a part of growing up. Not everything can be so perfect all the time. It’s both saddening and comforting to see our parents differently, but it’s the way of the world. I’m sure they never meant to hurt us or to disappoint us in any way. They were probably always that way, and we just had to get older to realise and understand it… Though the understanding part comes much later.
There’s a part of me that feels I don’t have the right to complain. I had a great childhood, a fantastic one; filled with trips, fun memories, club memberships, a beach house, no worries about anything, etc. I’m sad to say that I didn’t realise how fantastic my childhood was until it was pointed out to me in May of 2006. It was only then, on a trip to the beach that I really came to terms with the fact that my childhood was not the same as everyone else’s. I had always known it was blessed, but that May the realisation of how blessed was made extremely clear to me. And I am very thankful to the girl who pointed it out.
Someone told me back then that it wasn’t my fault for not completely realising as his was a hard lesson in realisation as well. He told me that growing up with certain friends, certain circles… we almost expect it; knowing but not truly seeing that it’s something the majority don’t have.
So I tried to get real after that. It doesn’t always work, but I think I have definitely changed a lot, especially with everything that has happened in recent years, but there’s always room for improvement.
Sometimes, though. Just sometimes, I wish I could be ten again, or fourteen, or sixteen. I wish I could go back to no worries, back to the superheroes.
Three years ago, I wished I could go back to the superheroes. I still wish this sometimes, but I have learned to love my parents despite their lack of super powers. In fact, I love them more for being human.
Happy Father’s Day to your Dad!