My parents have a late child, I love them very much, but now it turns out that I have to sacrifice everything for them.

Not always, but it often happens that late-child It becomes a water cup holder for elderly parents. Yes, it may sound rude, but a son or daughter is automatically deprived of the right to their own normal life because their mother or father feels weak, abandoned and in need of help. It’s at a time when their children need to build a career or start a family.



Who is to blame for this, and whether it is at all, is another matter. The main thing is to figure out what to do in this case. After all, no matter how twisted, this situation is close to many. And people would like to know what to do in this case. Maybe someone had that practice. And it would be interesting to know what the man did at the time and whether he regretted his decision.

My parents gave me everything I needed and more. I don’t mean trivial facts, like life, taught to love yourself and people, no. They gave me a good education. The opportunity to meet interesting and necessary people, the opportunity to travel and communicate normally with any cultured person. They made me a citizen of the world.

Skills cost money, but my parents had them at the time. You see, when I was born, my dad was 46 and my mom was 43. Yes, I am what they call a late child in the family. That makes it my favorite. I will not hide, I was spoiled and tried to always buy me the best. And because of that, I didn't just become capricious, but some things are far away and incomprehensible to me now.



For example, I cannot take public transport. It is in Europe that you can get on an empty tram that slowly but cheerfully takes you to the right place. But there are not often passengers and in general, it is perceived as a mini-adventure. We literally have a challenge. Whether you make it to the next stop or you get swept away by another granny with a cart or some guy with a fingal who doesn't mind feeling what's in your pockets.

Also, I can't skimp on cheap supermarkets. There are, of course, malls where you can take a clean cart, walking through slender rows of shelving with goods. What's the hurry? We have one life. But in some stores, things are different. Dirty, wet basket and goods of dubious quality and not the first freshness. And there are deep-seated people in line. Sweaty, yawning, but able to run 5 meters in 1 second if Zina stands behind the cash register.

Next. Hospitals. But everyone already knows that. I understand that if there is money, there is service. But sometimes there are situations in which some piece of paper you need is in a public hospital. You can't take it anywhere else. In such cases, I always break into the doctor's office and try to negotiate. Not for free. Because aging in a hall full of coughing and sneezing patients is a direct health hazard. Ironically, in all these clinics it is extremely high.



And by the way, health. My parents, as you can see, are old. Their business went into oblivion and money with them. Something left, like a nice apartment and some money in the account. But this is far from what it was before. Although, believe me, they do not stand on the porch with an outstretched hand. And I've actually succeeded in my business. So that's not our biggest problem.

Attention. That's what my parents are missing. Ordinary, trivial attention. And they demand it from me very actively. But here's the thing: I live abroad. There I studied, made friends, a girl. That's where I belong. I'm renting an apartment with a friend, my future wife. In general, if we take a bold step and sell all the property of our parents, we could buy them some kind of living space. But they refuse to move anywhere. Which means I have to drop everything and stay with them.



My profession is quite in demand. This means that if I lose a year of time, I will lose my job and my skills. They will become irrelevant in our rapidly changing world. Is it worth mentioning that my girlfriend won’t be waiting for me?

But mom and dad don't care. They don't care. The two of them, they have the same idea that I have to look after them, whatever I have planned. I'm their only son. Their support. I have to spend time with them, talk about life, because they rarely see me and everything else. But what can I tell them at home? How did you drink with friends in the next entrance or what else do young people in their homeland?



Peels, of course, I was trying to come up with an alternative. I could pay a woman to come and look after her parents. But, believe me, their health is still good. But that was always followed by rejection. How's that strange woman coming? What's our son for? And the fact that a son can spend his whole life with mom and dad at the most important period of his life is nonsense, it's different.

Maybe I'm a bad person, a bad son. But then why would I have to give birth and be allowed to see the world through the prism that I see it now? Sit together, in the Soviet “two”. My parents are in one room and my wife and I are in the other. You wouldn't know. We'd go fishing, we'd argue with our neighbors, we'd whine every month about raising the communal house. Not life, but a fairy tale.



And it turns out that I have to sacrifice one thing, but it's just as important. Or parents, or rather, their love and attitude. Or your own life and future. There are no other options. I don’t like to complain and I don’t know how to complain. But I'm sorry, the cry of the soul. My friends don't understand me and tell me to stay and not think about anything. But I have a conscience that tells me to be with my parents. What happens next? Who knows him?