A place in life, a place in hidden memories

A father who never steps foot in a museum, only reads the local newspaper, uses nothing but his own Opinel knife to eat. A father who started out as a farmer, became a worker, and finally owned a coffee shop and grocery store. A father who is always worried about being in the wrong “place”. The same father was proud of his daughter who, thanks to a good education, had entered the petty bourgeois world. But behind that is the distance, the pain and torment between father and son.

When reading the introduction lines behind the book, I was startled to see how similar it is to my story and quickly opened it to read, only to find that after less than a hundred pages of the book, I felt sobbing at a heart. real soul in tune, before a story too similar to his own story.

Before that, I couldn’t imagine any story that would lead me into the author’s soul just by its name – “A place in life”. What is a Place in Life? What do people look for in that “place” in life? Why do you want to give a name that has no beginning, no end, no clear meaning?!

Then I went through the book – an autobiography, or more accurately, the author’s memoir about her father, the father as the description behind the book that I copied above. The dry, even dry voice makes me imagine a vast void between a daughter and her father. It seems that the father who appears in her mind is always a distant person, somewhat ridiculous because he always tries to shed his past, his old self to become a person of a completely different world. the world he used to know. But as a person, how to shake off the past, how to shake off who you are, the harder you try, the more you can’t. Similar to the story between me and my mother, the gap between me and the person who gave birth to me used to be not only a generation gap, but also a gap of ideology, life concept, and wisdom. . Seeing the father in One Place in Life had to try, even struggle, to get people to stop seeing him as a farmer. It seems to me that my mother used to be like that, at a time when my family struggled with food, but also at that same time, my mother had to face a child at a young age. I have never had so many conflicts, I feel disgusted with my life, disgusted with the house that every time I step in it is like a strange place, no one understands a single sentence I say, no who to share interests; and my mother, at that time, she probably had to try to both take care of her children, worry about food, and try to find herself a position so that she both comfortable in that position and comfortable in front of your child. And I myself have been in a vicious circle of finding my own place. Or does everyone seem to be?!

It seems, everyone has tried to let go of a part of the past, but when standing with people who belong to a world that they always want to enter, they are afraid and stand in the outside. In the son’s story, the father always tries to show everyone that he does not belong to the working class, but he seems to belong nowhere, he does not want others to see him as a farmer, but he still does not belong to the working class. kept the habits of a peasant, and later those of the worker, and when he stood with the petty bourgeois he did not know what to say and then chose to remain silent, also never seemed to have any real intention of joining that class. The father is always afraid of being mistaken for the “position”, but apparently, he has never had a position, never belonged to any class of people in society, but perhaps, he still retains most of the characteristics. of the class he was trying to get rid of. He tries to fulfill all his roles with utmost responsibility, but in the end, he is always lonely and suspicious.

Perhaps, because of that, he created a distance with the people next to him, with his wife and especially with his daughter. The torments, the torments because of the distance without understanding and sympathy, the unrequited and unexpressed love make the words also have a gray color thanks to the emotions that cannot be expressed. , dry and cold.
A place in life that contains many hidden memories, more torments than we can see through those simple, dry, emotional and cold words. All the torment probably comes from lack of understanding, lack of acceptance, and lack of conversations. I don’t know what a son’s love for his father is, it’s complicated and difficult to say, how can it simply be separated between love and shame when it’s his father.

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