I’ve made no secret that my relationship with my parents is a little difficult at times. I genuinely love them dearly, but they’re not perfect parents; which is fine, because I am far from the perfect child. However, there’s no denying the fact that the language barrier between us makes things difficult at times, and sometimes I feel like I might not have the same types of relationships with my parents as those around me might, simply because of culture differences and communication woes.
That being said, throughout my life, I’ve always done my best to endear myself to the parents of my friends. It’s important to me, that to those people who are important to me, that I can make a good impression on their parents, because I know that in most cases, their parents are important to them. What’s important to them, is important to me. Did I say important enough in this paragraph?
Anyway, along the way, I’ve been privileged to develop relationships with the parents of many friends in my life. And to no disrespect to my own parents, but in a way it’s like I’m picking up other moms and dads along the way, who kind of in their own way, fill niche voids, and sometimes do their best impressions of having parented me, when my own parents couldn’t. I’m not saying I’ve ever been disciplined or overly lectured by any of these surrogate parents, but mostly it’s in regards to simple hospitality, advice, or just observing on how they conduct themselves, treat their children, my friends, that I feel like I learn, and in some way become shaped as a person myself.
The drawback to having my own relationships with surrogate parents, is that when the worst parts of life occur, then I am emotionally vested as well.
One of my closest friends lost their mother today. It reads like a cop-out, but words really can’t express just how much this sucks. My heart breaks for my friend whom I can’t even begin to fathom the feelings of sadness, loss and pain she’s feeling. But my heart also breaks for the loss of a woman who genuinely treated me like a son for the better part of the last decade. Most notably, she gave me one thing that nobody else will probably be able to provide, which was the ability to fly; as an airline retiree, she put me on her flight privileges, so that I could travel on a whim, satiate my wanderlust, and complete a vast majority of the 30 Major League Baseball parks that I’ve made my goal.
More importantly, however, she gave me a place to live when I moved to Georgia, and sometimes we would all watch movies together, sometimes it was just us, watching the Braves or football, and then there were the conversations we had, which were interactions that I couldn’t have with my own parents, solely based on the communication difficulties. Without her contributions to my own life, there is no telling how my life would have ended up, whether or not I’d have moved to Georgia, whether or not I’d have remained in my career field as a graphic designer.
Considering my general satisfaction with how my life has turned out, I’d say that I owe her a lot.
Since she wasn’t my actual mother, I’ll refrain on anything in-depth; it’s simply not my place, nor is my right to speak upon. This is really me speaking some words that I honestly had a hard time formulating. But I would be remiss if I didn’t share some words in regards to the departure of someone who did have some notable contributions to my life, because important people should be remembered.
