The Power of Words

The pen is mightier than a sword, or so to speak.  Words are a translation of what pen wants to say. Its mightier.  I truly understand the essence of this as the relationship between myself and my parents continue to strain toward the wrong side of the house.

I must have hurt them much.  The usual patient Dad of mine shock me thoroughly by ignoring my calls, mum continuing her ever unassuming moods.  This time I have hurt them much.  Carelessness or tactless words I may argue, looking at hindsight, I had indeed hurt them with the sword.  Perhaps had pierced their hearts deep and hard.

I start to recount days I had taken for granted after slowly stitching the wound, I was not sensitive.  I realised that I am a poor manager of feelings.  The perhaps over consciousness over the well-being of my wife and thus losing the sensitivity I ought to pay attention to on my parents.

I had visited them far and few at their place.  I have not pay much attention to their well-being, I have not pay attention to their needs and emotional support.  I have not being sensitive to their ever eagerness to care and love my children.  I have not, I have not.  As my eyelids “jump” over the last few days, the Chinese saying goes, a disaster is approaching and yet I have not pay attention much to the words I had used, I did not.

I have to be patient, I have to be sensitive, I have to gain back the trust and support though this time, I felt worse.