Sorry

An e-mail knocked the bottom out of my life today. It was a short message from my mother which looked more like a warning letter to me. In the letter she complained about my coldness towards her and my father. Virtually, there were no exact words for her discontent at me but some suggestion for me to gain a high emotional quotient. However, a strong idea had formed in my mind that my parents were disappointed about me even though they could someway find excuse to comfort themselves. Always, they expected too much love from me, in most cases expectations are thwarted ending up with letdowns. Even so, only a little care shown by me can fulfill all their expectations and expel all their despairs.

My mother often lamented that children could hardly understand the sacrifices their parents made until one day they came to the trials of parenthood. Actually, I might as well say that I am unwilling to accept the fact. For a long time, I was wondering whether there is another love whose power is greater than that of parents’ love.

Whatever, being in a daze before the computer screen, I really had no idea of what to reply and suddenly found that I felt a little bit ashamed of myself. Looking back on the past three months in Singapore, it never occurred to me to send some photos to my parents so that they can know a good deal of my life here, and I never thought of taking initiative to call my parents, furthermore, I was idiotically proud of using only one top-up card for 3 months whereas some of my roommates had already used up six or more. The more I think of all these things, the more I’m convinced there must be something wrong with me. Every time my parents get through to me and anxiously asked me about all sorts of things in my study and life, what they can get in return are my perfunctory responses. Every time they give me their thoughtful advices, what they can receive are my thoughtless refusals. Every time they spare no pains to support me, what they want is just a bight future for me.

An image rose before me accidently. It was my mentor, Ms Leo. She frequently mentioned her son in my class. From the expression in her eyes, I can clearly know how proud she is of her son. Exactly, her way of speaking puts me in mind of my mother, who also takes pride in what her children have done. Maybe all the mothers are the same in the world.

Recapture what my parents have done to me again, I feel like crying.