Why I love and respect my parents

There is a small country in this world, one that is largely ignored and laughed upon even by it's slightly less poor neighbours. A small country in the Balkans that hosts beautiful scenery, people poor in money and spirit and some people ascinating in every aspect.

My parents were born in the same village, small community that today lives largely on an income from abroad; money that hard-working sons and daughters send to their family. My father's family was very poor so by the age of 14, he had to provide for himself. He would take daily bus trips to the larger cities and buy products that other people necessitated, for a small fee. Eventually,he saved enough money to buy things he tought he could sell in larger quantity and retain more money. My father was a born bussinesman, as time would later tell.

My mother's family was a respected one, well off and she was the third child of eight. Grandfather once told me she was his favourite child, but maybe he told other grandchildren the same thing about their mothers. It didn't matter, as I believed him anyhow. She was a smart, level-headed child, as I have been told. As she turned 13, she enrolled in a medical school, in a city that was 30km away, taking bus rides in 5:30 in the morning. After school, she would help their parents around the house, cook and serve dinner then do her homework. She was an excellent student through all four years of high-school and had plans to enroll in a medical faculty to become a doctor.

By the time she turned 17, my father already had two shops, one smaller in the village and a bigger one in the city where my mother's high school had been. My father, now 22, had invested everything he earned back into business and built himself up from nothing. Yes, he was a trader, but he was honest and to the point. He didn't like dishonest people, always paid his dues on time and he especially disliked alcoholics and gamblers. I cannot emphasize this enough, as he would mention this to me daily when I was a kid. So his shops did well and he did well for his parents and his brothers and sisters. Soon enough, his whole family was dependant on him, so he had an even bigger responsibility to his business.

One day, my father lent his car to his brother who had some business in the capital and decided to take the bus to the nearby city. He told me he sat right across my mother and that he knew there and then, in a crappy bus on a scorching summer day, that she was the one. But he didn't know how to approach her and he felt bad that he didn't dress better. So he got up, approached the driver instead and asked him if he could stop at the stand near the road so he could buy some oranges. The driver said no, but my father was persistent and he managed to change his mind. The bus stopped where it usually doesn't, halfway between the village and the city, to buy oranges on a dusty stand near the road where you could see the mountain in the background. I know he mentioned he specifically asked for a carton bag, as he didn't like the look of the plastic one. My father filled the bag with oranges and cherries and got back up on the bus. He smiled nervously and proceed to walk slowly towards her. He gave her the bag and she accepted it with just a smile. They didn't talk at all during the bus ride and her station was one stop before my father's. She got up, thanked him for the gift and was on her way. He finally braved up to ask her if she could maybe have a coffee with him in the city someday. She said yes and they met a week later.

They got married seven months afterwards, right after she turned 18 and finished her high-school. He wanted to leave the country and go west, to a better country in Europe, so he could pursue his business further. That meant she couldn't continue her education immediately, as she would have to retake some tests and learn the language. But she agreed and they left a month after the wedding. My father left the shops to his older brother, so he could continue to take care of the family. My mother's family was livid though, as they didn't want her to leave them and school behind. She believed in him and made the decision to leave everything dear behind for a new life with my father.

They made it together though; they brought up a successful business together and raised five children. Looking at it from today's perspective, most children wouldn't like to have their parents like mine as they are strict and old-fashioned. I thank God that I had them. They taught me how to go through life, with honesty, pride, hard work and discipline. Growing up, I've witnessed countless times people laughing at us, at them, for being of a different faith, different culture. They endured it all, with dignity, as I was having a hard time dealing with it daily. I wasn't an easy kid either, having lots of fights and scuffs with the other kids, but I was always good with my grades. Of course we had problems within our family, no family is ideal. But we somehow managed to work it out ourselves and stayed compact.

When I look at the state of the world today, the standard of people who occupy ruling positions, I can't help to wonder how much better it would be if someone like my parents took up the role. But people like them are mostly unassuming, as I have learned through life; they don't shout or parade, rather they quietly go about their business and take care of their family. Maybe that's what's wrong.

I know I'll never be as successful, smart or good as them and I'm okay with that. These values that they have taught me will stay with me forever. Some people haven't been as lucky as I have been and have difficult parents, some have absent parents, parents who don't care and some have no parents at all. These are issues that need to be addressed more frequently and thoroughly; what do we leave behind to our children, what example are we setting for them, what good will they take from us and bring into this complicated society?