MY PARENTS’LOVE
- ONE -
Everyone has his parents to love, to praise to worship, so do I but to talk about to write about.
Unlike Tolstoy, who seemed to be subjected to the rhythm of family life. I had a work cycle that does not interfere with the course of it. Well, I was born to be the first in a family of 3. I had been supposed to be a great joy of my parents who already had 2 daughters and another dying young of tuberculosis. The celebration for my first month old seemed to open a good chapter of a good book presenting my good life. As I grew up, my Dad did the different things as he was bored of being a father of 3. Begining to drink, to come home late, to be involved with his bad friends, he began making mu Mom so sad that she wanted to make a suicide. When she was about to give my part of a mix-medicine bowl- a kind of poison, she caught my innocent eye sight and she changed her mind. That used to be a main source of love I gave her.
My memories seemed clear by the time I was 9 as some bad influences affected me. Living in such an area of almost military families, in rental houses, with a lot off ill-educated bad children, I had a bad childhood. Some of bad guys made me smoke and drink the remaining glasses of beer left after my Dad’s parties. I remembered seeing him hit my Mom, argue with her or walk unsteadily toward home. They gave me no normal pleasure of chilhood. One of his colleagues and he tried to move into another place. They built houses, their first ever being built. Being surrounded by ponds, wild bushes and grass, my brother and I had no place to hang out with friends. Let me just say our childhood was just as boring as what children fear to happen to them. There were on toys, gifts, play ground, no good care, no good treatment nor any normal pleasure of chilhood. Those were exchanged by struggles, hard work and pain as my Dad was often late or away from home. My Mom told me with acid amusement,
“I’ll take it on a lam so he’ll never bother me again.”
She sometimes recalled, adding that it was thoughtless of her to tlak about her happiness. She had found the whole thing too preposterous. There was always a trace of moisture in her small eyes as she told us how unhappily she had lived setting her teeth hrad in her lower lip to bite back her savage protest at such memory. I could hardly believe it even now. Somehow I don’t mind being stuck in the wild of the thorniest forest for the time to share my Mom’s feeling in the matter.
“Let bygones be bygones and make the little aged man’s remaining days of life a little easier.” I tried to speak out to see how the world would be for her and for me,
“Those who sow the wind will reap the whirlwind.” whispered sadly she.
In this spirit, my Mom kept living with many obstacles in terms of public opinion as well as mine. It’s not an exaggeration at all to say that my Dad who never took care of me ruined my childhood and that my Mom had shown herself to be extremely diligently brave and kind-natured who had to hide her tears as seeing her husband off to other women to enjoy himself leaving behind a burden of raising and supporting their 3 young and helpless children. To someone’s surprise, my Mom remained unshakeably faithful to my Dad and at the same time managed to fullil the duties of mother, wife.
To turn raw emotions into words, I had such a tough decision to make one that required me to say some things that I would probably always regret that also has made me a better climber of the race. I always thrived on challenges and up to now,
I am now still marching one step at a time. My first success came to me unexpectedly as I pased the most first important exam- highschool entrance while the 2 beloved sons of my parents’neighbor failed. I asked them to lend me their bicycle to ride to the school to get the result while they were taken by their Dad’s motorbike. They were blamed and later shared their failure while I had no one to congratulate my success. My Dad could never ever have that kind of pleasure as he had left for his second family. Sadly my Mom could not either as she became a hard laborer for a military base working 2 shifts, leaving home almost everyday, attracting my sister into the work, washing clothes, cleaning. As a result of the lack responsible parents, my young brother left school as early as people may be shocked, the third grade. I was left alone trying to piece together what terribly happened, a story of grieving, horror, confusion and fear.
Ultimately, that’s the best way to answer the realy tough question in life by compromising with the common sense that people have long and reliably applied to their own lives. What I mean to write is meant to show people in real life a slightly different opinion of how to get off the hook, the shadow.
The truth is that bias which is making people good or bad and confusion will disappear only when people are really sure why they live, how they live their lives truly honestly in cross referencing facts in private in range of different activities of their heroic endurance.
As Ernest Hemingway learned a lot form his father, I learned nothing to live to write so I was moved that one of my composition in my literature class at grade 7th was praised by our beloved teacher stating that it would be a novel if it were edited by a writer. What I wrote about was what had happened to me in the sense of telling memoirs. It was about the time when my parents were so aggressive so hostile that they decided to divorce when I was a 10-year-old boy wondering what was happening but recognizing it as a terrible incident in life.
A thought of becoming a writer lasted a short time as I joined my classmates to play basket ball that gave me pleasure of being together of being able to do something useful, powerful. No one knew my thought. I became taciturn. Once Tuan, one of my classmates showed me a photo of his Dad who had been in France
Since my Dad left home, he sent nothing back as if he had forgotten us.
Assuming the fact produced no shocking revelation that some how indicated the result. After all, it was not only the quality of our lives that was at stake.
(To be continued)
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