Confession of a Badass Senior Citizen

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Upon reaching the age of 18, I thought of moving out from direct parental supervision.  No, it was not out of pique nor as a consequence of gross familiarity.  I really wanted to stay in the bosom of my parents forever but there are significant things which I might miss out.  I must be on my own.    But I have one more year to go at that time before I graduate from college.  Hence I held on.

However, at the age of 19 with a college diploma, I eventually bid my parents goodbye.  I intend to be independent the way the Academe prepared me to be.  At first glance, there was grief written all over our house.  My parents confounded my word about leaving as if I was dying!

I could only watch the sadness on the faces of my parents when I proposed for autonomy.  Their baby had grown up and was seeking its own shadow in the sunshine of a harsh world.  I could tell from their expression that they were a couple of doubters.  I was a picture of confidence on the other hand.  But that was how it should be if I intend to be tougher.  That was also the only way for my parents to gauge whether they have nurtured a strong child or otherwise.  That was also the way I could strengthen myself.

I have friends and peers who depend largely on their respective parents.  When their parents separated as in one case, my friend was inconsolable.  When one of my friend’s parents died of an accident, he was completely devastated.  Both of my peers became failures—and weaklings in their career and family life.  Both never recovered because of their absolute dependence and sentimental proximity to their parents.  It was a lesson which never departed my consciousness.

I must leave the warm, hearth and comfort of home if only to make my own destiny.  I tell you, it was never that easy but it was not discouraging.  Forget emotions.  Forget sentiments.  They are mere figments on a weary soul.

It was navigating into a cruel world, taming its wild corners and calming the pressures of environment.  I had lots of friends also on the road with me.  They were street smart and shrewd.  Most of them were clever enough to spot danger a kilometer ahead.  They were in my estimation born to raise hell.  Good for them but a little bad for me since I was groomed in a sheltered environment almost spoiled and treated with tenderness.  There was nothing in my childhood that would spell abandonment.  I was completely nurtured in a climate of consideration.

Initially, it was hard to walk on bare foot.

If I wanted to gain something from the world I must undergo the initiation of a freshman.  I must confront the pain of disappointment, the rigors of failure, the stages of helplessness, the period of loneliness.  I must accept agony and the sting of vulnerability.  I must be callous and cold hearted if only to survive.  These were requirements I needed in my quest to understand the meaning of success.

Youth was on my side and I do not wish to lament this given opportunity when I get old.

Getting through with bruises and scars then smiling on was for me a profile of ascertaining the vison of triumph in any endeavor.  And so, I trod on.

Years and years later, the exposure made a dent on my personality.  I became wise, liberated and fearless.  There was nothing that could force me, no force could compel me, no power could control me.  Whenever I would visit my parents, I could sense that they were all proud to see me.  I may have accumulated a lot of botches but they were more interested in listening on how I fared and won.

They relished the thought that I have transformed into an authority, a leader in my own universe and still could dictate and oblige their son to do menial tasks at home.  They once and still had their baby and a strong shoulder they could hang on.  It was a parent’s dream and a child’s vision.

They knew that taming the brutality of the universe is not something to be handed over.  They knew the efforts that were expended.  They knew that I have undergone perdition, that I have a lot to share in terms of delinquency and that fulfilling morals in an otherwise immoral surroundings was a feat worthy of reckoning.  I could see the moistened eyes of my parents as it juxtaposed with their smiling lips.

They have contributed to the world through me.  No matter how menacing such contribution it may be to a certain extent, that was an offering my parents gladly acknowledged.

I wished my kids could develop the same mindset too.

My parents have gone to life hereafter and their son remained as the keeper of their theme.  Years came by until the son, having carried out the vengeance to level the field for them, slowly moved on in his twilight years.

On my senior years, I could see the path strewn with my blood, sweat and tears.

As a senior citizen, I got more rights now and greater discounts.  I some cities, I could have my freebies, cakes and movies, including fare, medicine, snack rebates.  Gone were the days when I seek government intervention, now it is government that intervenes for me.  I get preferences wherever I go.  There are actually no more instances to be wicked anymore.

And I am still around like Ali, floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee.  The sting there however is more allegorical than literal.

I expected my children to be forthright also although they may not be conscious about it.  They thought that I have faded in some remote caves somewhere.  They thought I have forgotten to be a parent.  They may have thought that I lost my mind.

There should be a realization somewhere.  I merely took note on what happened to some of my upper class.  There is only one option to take.  The only way to capture the universe is not through a parent, it is only through independence.  It pains a parent to push his children to the limits but that is the only way to live and survive.

One day the parent would discover that his children are out in the world slaying dragons too.  The parent has been left to fend for his own.  On his own, he must confront the universe without regret and lamentation contented at the thought that his children are—-like him—- strong enough to withstand the forces of nature.

The older one gets the more he must be, just in his mind, a badass after all.

 

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About vjtesoro

A perpetual student of Corrections

Posted on July 1, 2016, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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