Guilt

It feels strange to have your kid suddenly talking to you like an adult. I guess we just don’t want or expect our kids to grow up so soon. The conversation we had in the morning kept coming back to me. Nadia sounded so mature and her arguments were logical. And yet, I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I would have to remain dependent on her forever. “Forever” – doesn’t that word contain an entire lifespan in it? Do I really wish to spend the rest of my life wondering whether I am being a hindrance or a burden on my own child, even if ‘the rest of my life’ would last for no more than a couple of months? And though I see reason in what she said about the tragedy in dying alone, yet I find it more attractive than living every day under the fear of being an interference in an otherwise smooth (I hope so) life of my only child.

And then it hits me.

Perhaps she wants to take care of me because she wants to help herself. She doesn’t want to live in the guilt of having neglected me in the last days of my life. She had often wondered aloud about the mental state of the children whose parents die a lonely and often unnoticed death. Is that what she wants to avoid? Has she seen the wetness in my eyes when I speak of her grandmother? Has she noticed the guilt in my memories?

I hope not.

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