the prologue
Monday, September 1, 2008 | 11:48 PM | 0comments
All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped.
Youths, like pristine glass, absorb prints of its handlers. Sometimes, parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter, childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.
Sometimes, it hurts but sometimes it's for the greater good.
Unbeknownst to most of us, it goes on like a rhythm in our life. It became inevitable.
and as we grow up, some damaged were wounded yet some perhaps not lucky enough, were left untouched and thus,
the damage just get bigger.
Ostensibly, when it's time for us to finally leave, those shattered pieces seems to linger and connected.
The feeling of lost love and comfort somehow fills us up right to the end.
But one thing for sure...
Parents rarely let go of their children so the children let go of them. They move on. They move away. The moments that used to define them, the mother’s approval, a father’s nod, are covered by their own accomplishments. It is not until much later, when the skins sags and the heart weakens, that children understand that all their stories and all the accomplishments, sit atop of the stories of their mothers and fathers, stones upon stones, beneath the waters of their lives.
so what do they know about love if their lives are empty from it?
