“the tired sunsets and the tired
it takes a lifetime to die and
no time at
― Charles Bukowski
I am tired, just so so tired, …
This week, Papa brought me to work. My parents do this a lot — they run a business together so my sister and I do find ourselves in the whirlwind of business-related sales and services every now and then.
This week was tough. Yes, my parents scored a huge project but that came with a price much higher than what was stated in the signed contract. I don’t mean money-wise, I mean in terms of the toll on my parents’ health. I’ve never quite seen them put under this great stress. They’re toughies, they really are. They inspire me to be a better version of myself everyday. They’ve been through so much in life and they deserve everything they have and can enjoy today. They’re my superheroes.
What Mum struggled with admin- and liaising-wise, Dad struggled at the factory grounds. He was pushed to and beyond his limits many times this week. He would come home terribly exhausted every day, even more so with each passing day.
His wrinkles became a little more obvious, his eyes drooped a little more than usual and his clothes seemed baggier. He… he seemed to have shrivelled under the strain.
My heart told me that it’d be only right to try to lighten the workload so I volunteered to be Dad’s personal assistant for as long as he needed me. I know I’m tough but the 13- to 14-hour HEAVY WORKLOAD days really made it quite a challenge to survive the week. Yes, these days I spent at the factory could very well be worse than the days I spent 13 hours at MacRitchie Reservoir which consisted of two training sessions.
I had to hide my tears several times as I witnessed Dad perform unimaginable physical tasks during the assembly/ installation of machines. I heard his occasional whispers of “Aouuuchhh”s or “Aaaachhhh”s. He would try to hide them from me.
Yesterday, my emotions took over me and a tear or two or a waterfall gushed down from my eyes. I guess he must have underestimated the way I could sense people around me, for he asked me why I was crying. I told him that I couldn’t bear to see him suffer this much, to which he replied, “No problem at all, Taschki. Remember? No pain, no gain.”
To think that he would put himself through this much for the future of his children, that he would push himself to wake up every day and do this for years and years on end, that he would simply do anything… even at the cost of his own well-being.
I am tired, just so so tired, …
… but I don’t think I have reason to be.
What I’ve gone through this week is a minuscule fraction of what my parents have pushed through and conquered all their lives.
My Papa doesn’t deserve to suffer this much, especially at his age.
My Mama doesn’t either.
Mama and Papa, I love You.
I hope You know how much I really do.
I can only say “I love You” or hug You this many times in a day.
Today marked the end of this project and I walked away with a few silicone stains on my jeans. They’re pretty permanent and if there’s one thing that it’ll always remind me, it’s that my parents love me, that they’re my superheroes and that I’ve been blessed.
Love your parents. We are so busy growing up, we often forget that they are also growing old.
The both of You truly are the real MVPs of my existence.
Thank You for everything.
I love You.
Very very much.