My parents came up to visit tonight. It was so nice hanging out with them and showing them one of my favourite restaurants in London. We spoke about all sorts, and spent a good few hours just chatting.
They’re getting older, as am I. They’re still relatively young, around the 60 mark, but it’s at that time you realise how they’re ageing and that they won’t be about forever.
They’re great parents. Not perfect, to be sure, but great. They sacrificed so much for us as kids, and brought us up in both love and discipline.
They’ve been through their fair share. Difficult childhoods, mental health issues, raising 5 kids on a minimal salary.
But they’ve always been positive and always been generous. They paid for the meal tonight because they always want to. I don’t always let them, but they love giving and blessing people, especially their kids, so stopping them feels like blocking some of joy they wanted to express.
I’m not sure I’ll ever have kids. I hope I do, but these things aren’t guaranteed. Right now, I’m very happy single and wonder whether that may be what’s best for me.
But I do hope to have a family. I hope to have one like the one I got to grow up in. Imperfect but loving, a place where you never doubt that love.
It’s hard to say what will happen. Tomorrow is a mystery to me, let alone anything beyond. But my parents example, especially that of foster care, has had a deep impact on me.
I feel the burden to want to help kids who have had a crap start due to no fault of their own. A big part of me hopes I can help by loving these kids, just as my parents have done.