” We should do business differently “, He said urgently, stressing his point, by hand motions, while I sat glazed eyes. Then he leaned in and repeated the same as if I couldn’t hear it the first time and I replied, ” I am. I am letting a yuppie like you to tell me how I should run the business I built ground up”
I sat there between strangers, younger than the number of years my company stayed upfloat, wondering what the hell am I doing sitting right there. This wasn’t how it was meant to be.
I should have said these words exactly when my daughter, wide eyed, urged me, ” we should do business differently”. But I didn’t.
I, who cared a whit for other’s judgement couldn’t defy my daughter. I was afraid. Afraid of that when-did-my-hero-turned-into-this-senile-man look.
I then understood what that anonymous someone meant by ‘child is father of a man’. A man can withstand disapproval of his father, but he can never , ever live with disapproval of his child.
So I sit, I sigh, I listen. And I keep my words to myself. After all I dont want to spend my last days, staring at some wall, between strangers, falsely happy.
And I accept.