Our lives together, translated…
My parents are in their eighties now, and they’d still, had small arguments over the unimportant matters in life.
That day I’d called mom, she’d started, pouring her heart out to me as dad wasn’t beside her, said that she’d had a fight with him the night before. I’d asked her what for? She said, “he’d wanted me to alter is shirt, and, I had, but, he was, displeased at my work, and told me he was going to take it to the seamstress,” my mother recalled angrily, “Yeah, just do it then, I’m elderly anyway, and he still made such high demands of me!”, she’d continued ranting on, “Your father doesn’t know what’s good for him, I’d worked hard for this family my whole life, he doesn’t even spit out a thanks, and, he’d become, too choosy over how I’d done things!”
My father is quite stubborn, very responsible, definitely, a good husband and a good father, but he’d never said anything good his whole life, and, he’d become, too stubborn on some of the things in his life, and, my mother would complain on how he’d not cared enough for her.
Toward our parents fighting every now and then, the two of us carried that positive attitude, believed, that at their age, they’d still argued over the smallest matters, that meant, that they’re both, very healthy. Actually, arguments are, an alternative sort of communication, and, their spats regularly, we’d, believed it to be like the symphonies of their every day life!
But, I, on the other end of the line, I’d still felt compelled, to empathize with my mother, and, allowed her to pour her heart out to me. It’s just that this time, she’d, stated, “I’m not going to talk to your father for two days from here on, he’d, ignored me too, if he doesn’t break the ice, I wouldn’t, cave anymore!”
I’d started, mediating, “When you no longer feel that angered anymore, even if dad doesn’t break the ice, you can still, talk to him first, because, the one who talks first, is the winner!”, my mother asked me in surprise why? I’d told her, “Because you’re, the bigger woman! Think on it, you’re still, very blessed, with dad there beside you whom you can, spat with, to fight with. The repairman that was here from before said you two are, very blessed, he saw a lot of families, with the lonely elderly, they don’t even have someone to spat with!” My mom said, “yeah, I suppose so.”
Like mother like daughter, I can feel that she’d felt, a little better on her end of the line, and, she’d no longer, felt as mad by my father’s behaviors anymore.
My parents had been married for over sixty years now, I’m sure, that their spatting with each other like this, will keep their love flowing on.
And so, this, is how when our parents fight, we’d become, the mediators, and, sometimes, because, we’re, on the outside, and so, we see things, more clearly, and yet, there’s, nothing we can do, as our parents fight…
Life, the Obstacle Course 