Love grows back

I’ve written a lot about my dad in previous posts (See My complex relationship with my biological father, Marrying the poor boy) in what some may perceive to be in a negative, harsh light. The reason is because, at the beginning of our relationship, when I was still a young child, there was genuine love between the two of us. Both my parents come from esteemed families in China and, yet, both my parents were just two relatively young adults in love when they wed. They were just kids, and I think, in many ways, they never really grew up.

However, in my adolescence, my dad made the decision to sacrifice our love. At the end of the day, I don’t believe the intent behind that sacrifice was justified. He took a risk and, though it did pay off, I don’t necessarily want that to set a precedent. Nevertheless, because of the exposure to the Western religious sphere that I’ve been lucky enough to have acquired through my many surrogate parents from the general public, I do genuinely believe that that love can grow back.

Love is like a plant. If you don’t water it, it withers and dies. Yet, plants are resilient: they regenerate, they multiply, and they spread. Such is the nature of love.