so as to make it easier to love them.
It’s a kind of gift, unwanted certainly,
But even so, a gift.
Once dead, they can no longer be annoying,
And parents are annoying, aren’t they.
Always wanting to tell you things about their years of painful experience,
Hoping and praying that you don’t make the same mistakes they made.
Which of course you don’t.
You just make other mistakes.