My father told me he was diagnosed with cardiovascular disease and was hospitalized for two weeks. My mother lived in the hospital with him.

“It was all half a year ago.” he spoke over the phone, “Now I feel even healthier than before. It is actually quite lucky to have your body warn you of a disciplined life every day.”

Your father was sick.

Your father informed you of his illness half a year later.

You did not accompany your father to the hospital.

You did not look after your father, and your mother lived through all those difficulties alone.

You always assume your parents to be healthy.

You never appreciate what your parents have done for you.

You are a bad daughter.

It wasn’t until this afternoon was I convinced that I am much worse than “a bad daughter” – I am indeed an irresponsible person.  I washed away the compound that my supervisor and I had spent a whole week to make. 

“Tea! You’ve got to be responsible for what you are doing!” Rami shook his head.

What is responsibility?

Never had I been so horrified until I realized that I couldn’t find a satisfying answer.  I have taken absolutely no responsibility in the twenty one years that I have lived through.  

When you were a girl back home, you screwed things up and your parents took care of them. Now you are an adult, still letting bad things happen when you can see the signs. Why? Who is going to undo your mistakes and make everything work again? No one.  Are you going to define yourself as a careless worker, a procrastinator, or a trouble maker?

You’ve got to be responsible for what you are doing.