[Life] Shallow Kinship

Author: JEFFI CHAO HUI WU

Time: 2025-7-14 Monday, 10:23 AM

········································

[Life] Shallow Kinship

I have heard too many people say, "Those with shallow ties to their relatives will have this life as their last."

This sounds like a Zen saying, but in fact, it's a bowl of aged toxic chicken soup.

This kind of talk, to put it bluntly, is a self-indulgent form of escapism. Turning interpersonal failures and familial indifference into "I am about to break free from the cycle of reincarnation" sounds like enlightenment, but in reality, it is a bowl of poisoned chicken soup sweetened with sugar.

In my life so far, family ties are not perfect, and friendships are not always warm. But if someone were to label me as having "shallow family ties," I can only smile faintly—what you don't know is that I am someone who values family and kinship immensely. I have devoted decades to my parents, taking care of them personally every day, and even when my career is busy or life is tough, I have never stopped caring for and accompanying them. I don't need others to give me a thumbs up, because that is simply a child's duty, not an "emotional return" that is exchanged.

More importantly, throughout my life, I have helped friends and family many times without counting the cost or asking for anything in return. Some were in difficult situations, some at turning points, and some were not even that close to me. But I only asked one thing: "Can I help?"

As for whether the other party remembers later, feels grateful, or supports me in return—I never demand it. Because sincere giving does not count on returns; that is a transaction. True affection should never become a bargaining chip of "how you should treat me."

I have also, in my loneliest moments, shouldered all the pressure alone, without saying a word or disturbing anyone. I do not complain, nor do I seek understanding. It is not because I have a heart of stone, but because I know: understanding is never a right, but a matter of fate. If others are willing, that is kindness; if they are not, there is nothing to blame. The greatest awakening for an adult is not learning to please others, but understanding: "It is normal for no one to help me; my ability to help others is my strength."

So I slowly understood that what people refer to as "being hurt by emotions" is most of the time just their own expectations not being met. You hope that your family is a bit more considerate, your friends a bit more generous, and your partner a bit more attentive. Once the other person fails to meet your psychological standards, you say, "You hurt me." But have you ever asked: Have you really done enough to be "worthy" of them?

We are too accustomed to seeking emotional support, yet we rarely reflect on our own giving. You say your parents don’t understand you, and your friends don’t support you enough, but have you ever been there for them? You say your relatives are distant, but have you yourself not turned that bond into an excuse of “if I can’t have it, I’ll distance myself” long ago?

I do not believe in the saying "shallow fate is destined," nor do I believe in the high-minded excuses of "the last lifetime." What I believe is that a person's behavior and mindset in emotions determine the depth of their relationships with family and friends.

I am not indifferent, nor am I detached; I simply live with clarity. Family affection is not something to be spoken of, but something to be acted upon; friendship is not something to be taken, but something to be fulfilled. True feelings are when I have done all that I should do; if you respond, I am grateful; if you remain indifferent, I have no regrets.

So I never blame my relatives for being indifferent, nor do I blame the fickleness of human hearts. What I seek is not understanding, but a clear conscience. I can ask myself: Have I been filial? Have I helped others? Have I shown genuine feelings and done real deeds? If I have done all these, then the rest is up to time and fate.

In this world, there is no shortage of indifferent relatives, but there is a lack of those who can persist in their warmth; there are also no shortages of silent friends, but there is a scarcity of unwavering guardians. I do not wish to be the one who easily becomes sentimental and readily labels themselves as an "emotional victim." I only wish to live cleanly, live clearly, and live with responsibility.

I am not distant from my relatives; I see through fate, bear my responsibilities, and let go of emotions!

During my loneliest times, I bore all the pressure alone, without saying a word or disturbing anyone. Those were the days when I first arrived in Melbourne, over three years without family or friends. I was sick, broke, and lonely, not even knowing where I would stay tomorrow or where my meal money would come from, let alone the future. Without relatives, friends, or support, even a warm meal or a peaceful night's sleep felt like a luxury. At that time, I truly understood what it meant to rely solely on myself.

For this reason, I understand better than anyone else: familial love is not meant to be demanded, but to be fulfilled.

I have never been indifferent to my relatives, nor have I distanced myself from my family under the excuse of "shallow ties with relatives." On the contrary, it is precisely because I have experienced true helplessness that I understand how rare the warmth of family affection is. Therefore, I respond to this precious bond with decades of consistent actions.

In his later years, my father’s health declined. In the months leading up to his passing, I spent more than two hours almost every morning and afternoon accompanying him. It wasn’t a mere clock-in kind of “filial piety,” but a wholehearted presence, even if it was just sitting with him, helping him drink water, basking in the sun, or silently keeping him company. In those moments, I was willing to put everything aside.

More importantly—this is not a temporary companionship, but a commitment that has lasted for decades.

It is the concern that remains unchanged for decades, the continuous accompaniment to medical appointments, the pick-ups and drop-offs, the care that is so meticulous that it does not overlook even a cup of warm water or a smile.

So, my father is gone, and I feel reluctant—that is the natural bond of family.

But I have no regrets—because I truly did everything that I should do, could do, and wanted to do.

This "no regrets" is not achieved through rituals, but through decades of accumulated details.

I accompany not because they have accompanied me, but because I am willing to be their strongest support. Not to move anyone, nor to prove anything, but as the most natural way to fulfill my feelings of kinship in my heart.

Source: https://www.australianwinner.com/AuWinner/viewtopic.php?t=696859