The Good Son

Quite a few people have called me a good son. Only because I pick up my father from his dialysis sessions at the hospital every Monday and Thursday, on my way back from work.

This makes me really wonder. Is it such a big deal to do that? What if I would have had to go for dialysis when I was, say, ten years old? He would have been around 42 then. I would have been like how he is today - a little worried, a little scared and a lot dependent. He would have been like how I am today - strong, capable and mobile. He wouldn't have asked me to fend for myself - go by a rick and come back on my own fighting all the potholes.

He would have surely done his best to ease my pain. Being a father now, I can imagine myself dying everyday, if my child has to go through something like this. He would have died everyday for me too. Always wishing that he could somehow take my suffering upon himself.

I don't feel that way about him. I don't die everyday because he has to go through this trauma. I worry. I am concerned. I care. I love. But this is nowhere close to what it would be if it were to be reversed.

I am just a son. But he's a good father.