The value of things

Lately these days, I’ve been thinking about the value of things. How sometimes we can have big miracles around us and not see them as we are used to them, and how we can lose our minds because of little things not happening as the way we want. I think it  all depends of perspective and somehow, of maturity and ignorance.

This week, my siblings and I had been organizing my father’s birthday party, the whole month actually, as we really wanted to honor and celebrate his seventy years of life (yes, SEVENTY). We are very conscious that parents are not forever, and we should thank them and make them feel loved while they are alive. The party took place this past Saturday, and the whole family and my father’s friends were reunited. Everyone was having a good time and I had never seen my dad as cherished and happy before, he said some words with a broken voice and some tears in his eyes. He said he never expected coming this age, but he was thankful with all the blessings he had in his life: his family, his children (already grown up) his good health and his friends. I’ve always admired my dad, since I’ve always seen him as a great man: so intelligent, mature, with lots of values and an unbroken resilience, maybe because he was already in his middle age when I was born, but I’ve just always known he is a man with a heart made of gold.

As he continued with his speech, I just thought that even with a series of unfortunate events in the last years (my mother’s death two years ago, and my grandmother’s death last year) he has always stayed strong and thankful with the things he keeps in his life, and I wished everyone could be a little bit like him, including myself. Since my mother died, my life has never been the same. I think I just submerged in my problems and it’s been hard trying to reach land again, I even got a chronical disease that hunts me with pain every day. But besides my not-so-well mental and physical state and all the things I’ve been through at my age, I think I’ve learnt some big lessons, trying to see the good side in them. I guess some of us just mature before others, but sometimes (or always) I say I would have liked to do it in a more friendly and less hurtful way. And even though I’m always complaining asking “why this? why that?”, I think I’ve learnt to appreciate the little things that keep me alive: my family, my friends, my dog, my bed, my hobbies, the memories and the few years I shared with my mom, and even the music I’m listening to right now.

Of course, I’m not saying we do not have the right to complain about the bad things, and neither I’m trying to fall in a fake and toxic positivism, I do believe we are free to feel mad, angry or sad for the injustices in our life. We are humans and we feel, but I also believe we shouldn’t get stuck in them for a long time, because sooner or later, there will be good things that will give us joy again and we should be thankful of them, even if they are momentaneous.