Of Parents and Love...

I've only just discovered a wonderful blog a couple of days ago, and read most of her posts in one go. She writes very well, and has a cute sense of humour. The nice thing about reading other blogs is that it gives me so much more to think and reflect on, it arouses my own Muse and allows me to get writing. No wonder all writers started off as avid readers. 

So anyway, Divya wrote a birthday post about the lessons she's learned in life. And one particular thing she wrote about was family. About how they are the biggest support in life. In her own words, "You can yell at them, fight with them, push them away, but they will still love you. Unconditionally."

That got me reminiscing about my Mom and my Dad. About all the things they've ever done for me. And no matter how much I've ranted and raved and argued and argued some more at home, the two people I will always think of when it comes to unconditional love, are Mom and Dad.

My dad has always been my hero. Although, it's funny that I never realized this until a few months ago at the dinner table with my husband and my in-laws. I was talking about my dad. When all of a sudden my father-in-law says with a small smile and an eye-roll, "Ya, ya we all know your dad is a great man." That's when it hit me. I talk about my dad a lot. I'm always trying to tell them how wonderful my dad is. My dad is my hero. 

He's the silent kind. But he does a lot. His love is only evident in his actions. And you would be a fool to miss those actions. He's the kind who puts everyone's needs first and his own last. Work comes first, relaxation, last. I try to be like him. I fail miserably. As I think about him, there are some instances that I will never forget. Instances for which I will be forever indebted to him. Like the time when I just started the 10th class and he had transfered jobs to another city. He drove 220km up and down every day to work and back, just so I wouldn't have to face the trouble of changing schools during the crucial year of board exams. Or the time when I wanted to meet a friend who was leaving the country, so he drove me to the hotel at 10:00 in the night. And drove me, a bundle of tears, back home in silence, respecting my feelings. Or just silly things like giving me a glass of water after lunch or dinner and insisting that I finish it. No one has ever done for me as much as my father has, and for giving him to me, I am ever grateful to the divine cosmos.

My mother, on the other hand, is not so silent. Her love is evident in her constant nagging. Which is of course annoying. Which I of course, waste no time in telling her. At the end of the day, however, I do realize that her heart is in the right place. It's always been. The true evidence of her love and support came to me during my college years when I was going through a rough patch. Of course, now I look back at it for the silliness that it all was, but at the time a few truths had been revealed to me and I was broken. Heart-broken. Friend-broken. Embarrassed. My self-worth had hit an all time low. There was no one I could turn to, no one who seemed to really understand. 

My mother could sense that something had changed, something was wrong. She asked me once, I couldn't find the words to tell her all the pain and disappointment I was going through, the same pain and disappointment she had warned me that I was heading towards. She did not ask me anything more. She did not say anything more. For the next one week or so she never nagged me. She didn't ask me why I wasn't studying. Or why I was engaging in listless channel surfing for hours. Or why I was listening to songs of heartbreak and betrayal. Or why I wasn't helping around the house. She just left me alone. And loved me the way I needed it. She cooked all the food I liked. She was kind, warm and understanding. For that one week, she was not a mother, she was a friend. 

I healed. I felt better. I felt ready to face the world again. Since that time, I have never been able to lie to my mother. Not for the sake of anybody. Not for the sake of any friend. The gratitude in my heart does not allow me to cheat her. Even when I eventually found the love of my life, I told her about it all right from the beginning. And even though she openly voiced all her motherly fears, I have found nothing but support in her. 

Yeah, my parents aren't perfect. No parents are. They have made their share of mistakes. But it's all in good intention. That's what is important. In the end it's their love that carries me across, not their words or their actions.