Ashwathy shared a link with this message,
“There are a lot of people sharing this on Facebook and applauding the attitude of the girl. While it’s definitely good that she is taking care of her parents… somewhere I really felt that she is losing out on her own life in the process. What about her own dream to travel, see the world, live by herself, work in a different country etc etc.?
Why is nobody seeing that aspect?”
What would you do if you were in this daughter’s place, or in place of her parents?
Take a look at some excerpts from the post,
“I had it all worked out for after my graduation ceremony in August. First, no more curfews. Then, short internships overseas, a yearly holiday to Seoul, perhaps even a fulltime job abroad.
Finishing university would be my ticket to independence and freedom. But something I did not expect is happening – my father is growing older.
…My father was a formidable force, full of contradictions: loving but harsh, intellectual but distant. He watched sappy Korean TV dramas but never discussed relationships or boys with my two sisters and me.
With time, there was a growing tension between us over this rigidity, and particularly his insistence that I give up my decade-long involvement in theatre. It was my passion, pride and joy, but he had other ideas on what strengths I should focus on.
So I stopped when I started university, but as an unspoken compromise I refused the usual applications to study medicine or law.
In my second year as a communications student, I went on an exchange programme to Seoul and those five months provided me experiences I had never had back home. When I came back, I longed to leave again.
Now, with only months to go, something has changed, and it has to do with my father’s health.
Once, we were at a clinic and my father fell to the ground. It is hard to describe how it feels to see your parent fall, like a child.
Now he goes to bed earlier than I do, and I am often the last to lock up at home, a job only he used to do.
I realise I have my freedom, but suddenly I am not taking flight as swiftly as I imagined I would.
My sisters and I have begun switching roles at home with our parents. We buy lunch and dinner. We coordinate who will be home, who will keep track of our father’s progress. We set our own curfews now.
As I prepare to graduate in three months, it is dawning on me that this ticket to freedom comes with an attached ‘responsibility’ voucher and I must weigh both carefully.
These days, my father never declares what I should do with my future, and I know he will not ask me to stay in Singapore. The time for keeping me safe at home has passed.
But perhaps it is now my turn to acknowledge that with freedom comes a duty I owe my old man who gave up his own freedom decades ago to raise three daughters.
And so the overseas plans can wait. For now, I will stay. Because even though I have never been a Daddy’s girl, I am my father’s daughter. ” [Read the entire article here.]
I thought this was sad. Not having a choice is not called growing up. It’s okay to live
your life and it’s okay to accept limitations – but can a lack of choices really be a choice? I also feel she is not happy. And where’s the mother?