Frequently, the most mysterious people in the world are fathers (and mothers, the limits of the generic). These are of course for children and usually for children’s friends. I think of my family, who started to interest me when they were no longer there. I look at a photo of them newlyweds and wonder how the two strangers who gave birth to me really are. I am a product of their venereal and emotional intimacy. I came out of his body like a diver running out of oxygen. I took a breath, burst into tears, and that’s when the lack of communication that characterized our relationships began. Maybe they died from the pain of not being able to understand me; I live without understanding them.
Perhaps fathers (and mothers) are uninteresting as contributors to the pile, but as parents they are bearers of the mystery. In fact, they spend their lives hiding things from their children: that kings have parents, that the tooth fairy doesn’t exist, that they bought us the first bike in installments, that maybe they didn’t take into account that you were born. , or you let them down by counting with it. You never knew where your mother came from after that day when she came home, walked into the bedroom and started crying. You heard him cry for hours. Then, before your father arrived, he recovered and treated her as if nothing had happened.
There are many things that are hidden from children, so when they die, we obsessively rummage in their clothes pockets, in their wardrobe drawers, so we hide their identity as a kind of fetish. What a paradox that the most mysterious people in our lives are those closest to us! That’s what I think when I look at this photo of my young parents, newlyweds, who are looking into the camera lens with disbelief. A photo taken when I wasn’t even a project yet (if I were a project, it probably wouldn’t: I’m four out of nine siblings who were maybe nine coincidences). Meanwhile, night is falling on the other side of the window and I wonder what to do, watch TV or write a few lines, maybe some kind of posthumous letter to my parents, a letter they will never read.
Source: Informacion
Ben Stock is a business analyst and writer for “Social Bites”. He offers insightful articles on the latest business news and developments, providing readers with a comprehensive understanding of the business world.