My parents came to visit me for only three short days recently and I miss them already. One of the reasons why I wanted to leave my stressful job in finance was to spend more time with them. I flew back to Hawaii four times in 2012 and three times in 2013 to visit for two-to-five weeks at a time. But our first meeting of 2014 was in September.
Totally my fault. Life seems to always get in the way.
Ever since going to college, I’ve longed to make my parents proud. My goal was to do well in school so I could earn enough money to support myself, a family, and them. They took care of me for the first 22 years, it’s only right I take care of them.
Some children have no problem accepting financial help from their parents as adults. That’s probably because they weren’t bad like me. I got in a lot of trouble as a teenager, and I really feel guilty for giving my mother so much heartache. I wanted to make up for all the money they spent on me by proving they didn’t raise a dead beat, but someone who could be independent as soon as he graduated college.
I also suffer from money guilt because I grew up in developing countries for the first 13 years of my life (Philippines, Zambia, Malaysia, Taiwan), and frequently went to China and India for work. Every time I’m about to buy something I don’t need, I think back to the times when I witnessed destitution. Every time I eat, I try and eat more slowly in order to be mindful of the starving.
Developing countries are full of hope and growth, but the juxtaposition between the haves and the have-nots is very stark. The poor are extremely poor and the rich are obnoxiously rich. You want to help, but after a while of helping, you come to the realization that the poverty is endless – like trying to catch a rain drop moments before a monsoon washes you over.