If there’s one thing that I miss after turning workaholic, it would simply be to have afternoon lunch with my parents. Many young people these days are too busy to notice that sometimes it’s these small pockets of time you spend with your old folks are the only things they ask for from you as you go about chasing that paper dreams of yours.
When I graduated and was waiting around for a job, I had all the time in the world to wake up in the afternoons, just in time to dine in with my parents and resume my job-hunting. Now that I am working, time is extremely limited although now, I have the bucks to take them out for fancy dinners. So like what I’ve always presumed, money isn’t everything to me. I can have all the money in the world yet not spending a minute or two talking to my parents will render me poor akin to those unfortunate people in the third-world countries.
Now, I steal those precious few minutes to wake up earlier for work just so that I can spend a few minutes before I head to work to talk to Mum and wake up early even when I’m tired just so that I can join Dad for breakfast. Sometimes it breaks my heart knowing that I am so busy and being unable to fulfill that wish of driving them around for their grocery shopping etc as and when they want us siblings to. So even if I have enough money to sustain their golden years, it would mean nothing to me as compared to spending an extra hour or two with them, every single day till I breathe my last. I still believe that they only want time from me and not the money.
Sure, having money makes everything much easier to achieve but when I think about it, money is the root of all evil. I’d rather be poor financially but rich in family love. I’d gladly give up my life so as to ensure my parents have a fulfilling and smooth-sailing twilight years. I still have that naggy envy thought when I see people my age zipping around town in their Beemers and such but I never hoped to be like them. Maybe hopefully, I’ll get to save enough cash equivalent to the price-tag on a car that expensive, but I’d rather spend all five, six-figured sum of it as a warranty that my parents will never have to worry about money troubles, ever.
I’ve just had lunch with my parents today; and now I realised that Dad is getting darker from all the chemotherapy while Mum’s eyes are really showing her age with the crow’s feet and wrinkles beneath her eyes. I wish there’ll be something I can do to make sure they lead better lives.