After decades of walking this planet, it is only now that things started to sink in.
My parents are not vampires.
(And this thought is not in the very least influenced by the sparkling vamps, who despite being undead for more than a hundred years have managed to have live sperms. **eyes rolling**)
They are mere mortals living on borrowed time just like the rest of us. And admittedly, it scares me that one day I will lose them (or maybe they will lose me, who knows?). Because, I love them too much to lose them.
As a kid, that ‘love’ was something altogether remote to me; I even wished there was a store where I can shop for a new set of parents and return the ones that I got. I detested their rules. I detested their strictness. I detested that we have just enough money for school and no extra for expensive toys and stuff that kids at our school enjoy.
Then I grew up. Became mature. Found a different perspective.
I appreciated everything they ever did for us. From their rigid rules to their strictness, not only with the (little) money we spent but with the time we spent enjoying our youth.
When my father got sick recently and was confined for his angiogram, the fear of losing them became all too real to be ignored. A lot of things are running through my head and sitting on top of it is where in heaven’s name will I get the money for his operation.
And so I prayed and asked my friends to do the same for my father; something I never thought I do but I did. It was almost three days of no sleep because of fear and dreadful anticipation of what the result will be. On the day of his angiogram, the doctor offered to let me watch the procedure, which I initially declined because I’m such a ninny at these things. But I thought better of it. I watched. It was the most nerve-wracking 15 minutes of my life.Relief was an understatement when his angiographer went out, tapped me on the shoulder and said my father is going to be ok and all he needs is medication.
It felt like Christmas came early on December 17, 2011 and our New Year began on December 18 when we finally went home.
The gift of life is the best Christmas gift anyone can ever have and it’s good that that there are no stores where we can return our parents and exchange them for new ones. Imperfect as they are, I won’t have them any other way (and I hope they feel that way about their three crazy children too).