Moving to Understand
Being raised in England as a circumstance of your parents choosing this foreign land as their home in the search for a better quality of life, with their souls still dwelling in the bosom of faraway motherlands, is a unique and challenging way of life.
Traditionally, as a boy you were raised with the illusion that any display of passionate emotion beyond anger and bravery was a sign of weakness. God forbid you shed a tear.
As a girl, your opinion and the words of your thought were best kept to yourself.
Now, take a moment or two, step back and ponder upon the thought that these were the normal standards that both of our parents grew up surrounded by and reaffirmed by generations gone by.
For our Fathers, they were never reared to have moments of sorrow or hurt, but if this were so, to be comforted and reminded of unconditional love from their parents was an unfamiliar concept. Yes, they were loved but it was interchangeable with respect. So soon, our Father’s grew to translate respect as love, and the notion that through respect for your Father you prove your love for him was born. How does passionate emotion manifest, I question, but into the all so familiar river of anger. Infinite emotions but only one door out called Anger. Somewhere amongst time and generations, love and affection were lost, and respect and anger found. It may be difficult to grasp, but this is the reality that so many live.
For our Mothers, living as martyrs for the happiness and well-being of their husband and children their worldly dreams were sacrificed. From tender ages, they were taught to cook, clean and be subservient, so to hold their family honour when judged under the critical and superior eye of their In-laws. To look, walk and talk as they please would only raise looks of disapproval from the extended families. It simply was just not acceptable.
Do you not think that it is time to recognise and appreciate that our parents speak broken English just so that we are able to speak the Queen’s English? Before Mother’s and Father’s, they are souls that have their own longings, their lost dreams from youth and aspirations. At times, we may resent their harsh words and inability to relate or understand us. But could it be that their minds and souls have caught a chill from the absence of the understanding warmth of another or dreams fulfilled?
No-one is perfect, we often interject and defend, but what we expect from our parents, is that not perfection demanded? The continuum of time makes for us a gap of understanding from generation to generation, but let us be humble and grateful as we stand on the shoulders of those who have raised us in a place that they have learned to call home through our presence, evolved and changed their life instilled belief set just so we could feel at home. There is no no right or wrong, but just a call for understanding.