loud yet unnoticed

My father was a heavy smoker. He started smocking since he was 14 and it kept on till his early forties. I can recall him saying that he started smocking due to the company of older friends. And since cigarettes weren't considered life threatening then, he didn't refuse nor even consider refusal. Thus, he ended up smocking for more than thirty years, 30 "continuous smocking" years. He smocked 2-3 packets per day from the heaviest type (Red Marlboro) for more than half of this period. In his defense, he claims that by the time cigarettes were known to be causing cancer, he was so hooked up on smocking that he couldn't quit it easily. He tried so many times but they were all in vain. Until one day my younger brother asked whether he will be here at all times, especially the bad ones. My father nodded yes, promising him to keep there by his side. However, deep down he knew that he wasn't doing all his best to keep this promise. In the contrary, by smocking, he was rapidly heading in the opposite direction. A few months later he quit. He quit for good, thank God. It wasn't easy. Far from easy. Physically and psychologically, he needed to change. For starters, he gained weight. It was difficult for him, my father is a good looking man and to become sloppy was a hard thing to deal with. Moreover, the hardest thing was to get over the stressful times without a cigarette in his hands. But he got over it. Not because it was easy, but because it was worth it. Not only for him. Or actually not for him at all, but for his son, for his family, for us. I don't know how. I really do not know. All I can say is that I have one hell of a father: strong, determinate, amazing father. I wish I had half his strength, his determinism, his patience and his love. His love is so deep to us that I'm afraid I'll never find someone like him. God bless him and protect him.  

My mother, on the other side, was never a smoker. She has been always the decent, kind, amazing, well raised, and completely innocent woman. I wish I was ever as pure as my mother: she sees things differently and believes in goodness endlessly. I recall that when my dad used to smock, she never allowed him to do it at home. And in case he needed to, he could have smocked in the balcony by himself. It wasn't that she was punishing him, it was only that she really cared about us and about how smocking could affect us indirectly. She gave her all to us, as well as dad did. My mom is a hard worker organized perfectionist person. She gets things done perfectly and on time. She seeks perfection in her work to the point that eventually all she does ends up to be "chef d'oeuvres". Nonetheless, against all the odds of becoming a successful working  mother, she completely dedicated herself and all of her resources to us, her children. She reoriented all her power, all her energy and all her enthusiasm towards us; to the point our success, happiness, pride and even failure were also hers: she lived through us. She taught us perfectly, she worked on us gorgeously until we became her perfect little children. She put aside her own independent identity because we became the synonyms of her own self. She ceased her dreams, not because she didn't have any, but because she was ready to give it all up. She had new better dreams, her children's. She gave her independence, her freedom, her ego, and her self-centrism up for us. She trades  the sense of individuality for endless unconditional love. I wish I can be half of what she is now. It's hard and quasi-impossible to me. But I'll try, because I won't accept that my children have a mother any different from mine. God bless her and protect her.    

The purpose of sharing this is to show us, my generation and me, what our parents are ready to do for us. How far they are ready to go, just for us, just for our sake. I don't know how did they get that much love and loyalty. They have completely changed for us! I'm sure that someday they had dreams for their own and on their own, thus I wonder how did they manage to squeeze us in their lives' plans. With no grudge, no envy, no hatred they managed to transform their prescheduled paths for us. I wish someday I figure this out. I wish someday I'd be capable of giving everything up for another person like they do. I wish someday I'd transform my whole life for another person. Their selflessness is amazingly and astonishingly respectful that I have no more words to describe it. I'm embarrassed for not knowing how much they gave up for us before now. I wish someday I can give my parents all of this back. 

I'm sure that each of us his parents sacrificed differently. I just wrote about mine to show everyone of us how significant things pass us: from the father's unspoken burdens to the mother's silent tears. Hence, we must look carefully around us, get out of the bubble, and put ourselves in their shoes in order to notice what they hide. Because parents work hard for us all the time, but it's us who don't see it as they work twice as hard to make it look easy.

May God bless all of our parents. And dear God help us make them proud. Amen.