husband, father, obligation
I’m puzzled by people who coddle their ancestors.
For some folks, family is a debt to be paid. They dole out love-shaped deeds in hope of karmic justice. They oblige to stave off guilt.
These people tolerate abuse from parents/grandparents because “they’re getting old” and “nobody deserves to die alone”.
I don’t get it.
If nobody is eager to hang out with me as I age, maybe I deserve it. Maybe I spent my century making misery for others.
If all my stories bore, maybe I slept through life. Maybe I forgot to take risks, get hurt, and live to tell about it.
If I have no wisdom to impart to the fledgling generation, maybe I should’ve listened more. Maybe I should’ve learned something or cared about anything.
My body will betray me. My joints and skin and brain and viscera are openly plotting a coup.
When my time comes, I want love, not pity.
But the golden rule can be cruel. Kindness to me is not kindness to thee.
Is it possible to balance compassion, honesty, and justice?