I am a child of divorced parents. And an only child. Unfortunately. It was a sad marriage of two happy people. It was a family with a limp before it even started to walk. That family of mine was resuscitated by defibrillators from the state of coma and clinical death several times. Then, even more ill than before, it would continue to exist riddled with all sorts of malignant tumours. It suffered from distrust, vanity, poor communication, fear, stupidity, other people’s advice, personal insecurities and big expectations.
It did not survive. It died on the day of its coming of age and on my minor’s hands. It had been dying for a long time, so the loss took a longer time to heal. And I, a seventeen-year-old boy then, was groping in some personal darkness that was imposed on me by someone else’s decision. I ran away from home, looked for the culprits, sought excuses, demanded apologies, applied tactics, went silent… In a word, I did not even know it then that, at that moment, the only feeling I had, and the strongest one, was – suffering.
Today, ten years exactly after the divorce, my mother and father are ok. And I am ok. It is just that I hate holidays. I cannot stand Christmases and New Year’s Eves. That is the time when I somehow miss most what does not exist any more. That is the time when I most clearly remember a distant family and the festive atmosphere. The smell of incense, clucking around the house, stirring fire, Christmas tree decoration and sleeping between the two of them after midnight…
I am ok. It is just that I despise those fertile horny uteruses and erect dicks that instinctively churn out children they are not ready to give love to. I feel disgusted by attempts at togetherness that, as if by protocol, end in someone’s weaknesses beating someone’s strength of character. I feel the urge to have all the men who father children because it is time castrated, and make all the women who have children because their biological clock is ticking undergo hysterectomy.
Children are not for everyone, although anyone can have them. You do not have to stay married if the marriage sucks, but you must be good parents after the divorce. Good parents have patience, attention and love to give to their children. Good parents communicate for the sake of their children. Good parents do not talk shit about each other and do not try to win the favour of their child because raising children is not a competition but an honour. Good parents are aware of the fact that children, no matter how small they are, know everything because they feel things about the world around them more deeply than adults.
I do not know if I will ever have my own children. Or whether I will raise someone else’s children. Or whether I will love someone else’s children as if they were mine. But I do know one thing. Children do not become bad people because of bad marriages, but because of bad parents. It is impossible for a good marriage to mask a bad person, or for a bad marriage to destroy goodness in someone. This is why even nowadays I love and respect my parents. It was hard for us. We have survived. I still do not know how much we have got over and have forgiven one another. I am working on that. This is why I wish the coming decade would be kinder to us than the previous one, because when the worst is over the only thing that remains is a better tomorrow.
Cheers,
B.
Translated from the Serbian by Svetlana Milivojević-Petrović
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Ovaj post je dostupan i na: Serbian
