Lifelines: Declaration of Independence

After every visit I was overcome with guilt that I was not doing more for my parents. I knew it was impossible but still I couldn’t banish these tormenting thoughts. (Photos: Shutterstock)

It was the day of a huge blizzard. Schools were canceled roads were closed and the city was practically shut down. That day exactly two employees showed up at the normally bustling office where I work: my supervisor and me.

“The people who were raised by parents who don’t know the meaning of giving up” was the way my supervisor summed up the two of us.

It was an apt description of my parents. Having grown up in the post-Depression era they embodied the values of hard work and self-sufficiency. My father who worked as a manager of a large department store didn’t balk at doing any menial tasks if the employee in charge hadn’t shown up. He got up every morning to daven k’vasikin and could not understand how anyone could sleep late. My mother never hired cleaning help even though she worked outside the house and also spent much of her time helping her disabled brother.