I am mad. I am mad that I spent the weekend in the ER with no parents. For those of you who do not know me, I have helicopter parents. The kind that want to know what you ate for breakfast, where you went to the bathroom, the whole nine yards. I have TMI parents. Therefore, it only makes sense that I wanted them to be around whenever I have an emergency, such as having to go to the ER in the middle of the night. There’s just one problem…my parents live on another continent.
When people decide to become missionaries, everyone applauds them. “Congratulations! Go get those hethans in line. Save lives.” However, no one understands the weight of what that really means. How could my parents leave me in a foreign country to go to college? Why can’t they be there when I have to go to the ER?
The other problem is that I am not supposed to be mad at my parents for not being present in my life. How am I supposed to tell them, “No, don’t save souls, be there for me.” It doesn’t go over well…and I never win that argument.
It is aggravating not to have parents around when you think you need them. It feels even worse that you cannot properly grieve their loss in your lives without someone telling you that they’re doing the right thing and you need to just suck up your emotions. However, I know that. I know that my parents are doing the right thing. I support them. I support their decisions. However, that does NOT mean that I have to like it. I don’t have to be happy when my parents don’t make it to my sister’s college graduation or give me away for my first date.
I love my parents. I want the best for them. I know they are doing the right thing. However, that does not mean that I am not allowed to grieve the loss of their presence.