Honour your parents

Sometimes, the elderly think they deserve respect just because of their age. My father is one of those old people. I know he did many positive things in his life, and I respect him as the man who participated in my conception, but nothing more than this. It is my religious duty to honour him, exactly as I honour my mother, but I do not have any further obligation towards that man.

Some old people become wise, especially those who have lived during the war and know how it feels to have nothing but uncertainty. I remember my grandmother keeping everything, even a quarter of an apple in the closet, because she had lived times in which food was scarce and even that could mean having something to eat. My grandmother did not excel in wisdom, but she was a nice old woman and she used to give me advice on small things which I can still recall, 30 years after her death.

My father married my mother just because she was beautiful. She lured him with her beauty to have his money. At the time I was born, they were about to divorce. I saved their marriage. My father never told my mother the truth about many important things, because, as my brother reported me, he thinks that “you never have to tell the truth to women”. So, in short, it is good to be a liar. He always tells that stupid story of him picking up my brother from an orphanage with his first wife, while I know that my brother is the son of my grandfather and his lover – in fact, my father’s brother. The whole situation is very confused but in fact, my brother is my uncle. Not legally, since he got adopted by my father, but biologically my father and my brother are siblings. As grandfather died, my father took everything that got donated to my brother even if this was not the will of the donor. My mother very often speculates about who could be my brother’s father, and my father tells lies and stories that I find horrible – instead of lying, keep silent, man, nobody ever asked you. Those are only speculations. But, as I said, my father never tells the truth to women. We are not worth it.

My father destroys everything he touches. My brother never was a god student but he is a very creative person. My father compelled him to study law and economics. Obviously, he failed. He started doing drugs. His whole life was compromised. My father did the same with me: he wanted me to become a lawyer, while I hated that thought.

Now, I am somehow aggressive towards my father. Not that I can show it or say something, but sometimes I would like to scream that I do not think that he deserves respect just because of his old age or because he fulfilled his task as a father very well. Every time there is a discussion, he hides behind his age, because “he is an old man who is about to die”. Of course, we are all about to die. I guess that is a fate we all share. This does not mean he has the right to take everything for granted and never say a “thank you”, “you are welcome” or “please”. That does not mean I have to skip lectures because I have to take him to doctors, lawyers, bankers or to baby sit him. I do so, but this is not my duty. This does not mean I have to wash him, dress him, sometimes even medicate him – I tell you, recently I even had to medicate his penis because he had an infection right “there”. My mother refused to do it, even if this was rather the task of a wife than the one of a daughter. I do all these things just because I have to honour my parents but sometimes, just sometimes, I would like to hear a “thank you” and not just criticism, blame and insults.

It is not my fault if my parents are old. If they decided to have a daughter in old age, it was their decision, not mine. They claim that they do not have a nice life because they are old and make me feel guilty because maybe I do not enough to make them feel comfortable in their old age. So, in the end, it is always my fault. Honestly, I do whatever I can to help them, but I am not able to turn the clock to zero and give them eternal youth.

Still, I honour my parents.