What I learned from my parents

I chat with my parents almost every day.

My dad, every morning without fail, sends me photos of his home-baked sourdough bread, with an “I love you, son!”. My mom, still not a huge fan of texting, likes to call me on facetime for a quick chat during my commute while my dad is reading in bed.

We currently live 12000km apart from each other, but they are a big part of my mornings. It wasn’t always like this.

I left home to pursue my path when I was 19, and between that and 25, we probably only spoke once a month on the phone. I guess part of me was trying to rebel from my parent’s influence to try and make something of my own, and another part of me didn’t want to explain to my parents why I was trying to start all these businesses while my friends were already making money.

“Don’t worry mom, I am fine, I don’t need any money.” — was something I needed to repeat over and over after my mom would, inevitably, see through my “success metrics” and realize her son was a broke dreamer. I never accepted any money back then. It was not just pride, but we didn’t have money growing up, and I couldn’t use the little money they had saved, bailing me out of my mistakes.

I remember feeling that their concerned questions were attacks.

It took years of practice to be comfortable with my life decisions, who I am, and grasp how love and acceptance work to get closer to them.

There is so much I learned from them that make me who I am today.

Reading is the best thing you can do for yourself.

My parents had a small store when I was a kid, and at the weekends, since there was no school, we used to wake up at 5 am to open the store.

I was about six at that time and was of little help, so my dad used to give me books to read. They were mostly the books that he thought were good stories for children, and that was when I met Arthur C. Clark, Phillip K. Dick, Asimov, Tolkien, and when my passion for reading started.

I remember my parents proudly looking at me while I was quietly reading at the back of the store.

People need to leave our store with a smile.

Mom is the best salesperson I’ve ever met. She was all about the customer experience, making people feel comfortable and safe at our little family store.

“It’s not just about selling something; they need to come here and leave happier than when they arrived so they will come back.” — She used to tell dad when he complained about the long conversations she had with a client that bought nothing.

My mom was all about turning clients that came into the store into friends. And they always came back.

Things don’t come easy; you gotta work for it.

I never received money from my parents without doing something in exchange, no matter how young I was.

If I wanted money for candy, I needed to find a pair of shoes at our house that needed shining. If I wanted money to go to the movies, I needed to work a day at our family shop and get paid for it.

To this day, I am mindful of the effort I need to put into work and value what I receive in exchange.

But I hated shining shoes.

Get up and make it happen.

My mom is a beast, and she said this to me countless times. I remember the look on her face; it was the same every time.

“You ain’t doing nothing sitting here complaining, are you? Get up and go make it happen.” — She used to tell me.

I remember being ten and complaining to my mom that my friends were going to private English classes to learn the language. I remember her eyes tearing up while she kept a strong face to tell me we didn’t have money for it.

“But, son, if you want to study English, I am sure we can find a way to make it happen.” — She said hopefully.

I knew what that meant. So I hopped into my bicycle and visited all the English schools in the region until I found one where the owner thought I was cute that a 10-year-old was asking about prices and discounts. She followed me home to meet my parents decided to give me a partial scholarship.

My mom still tells this story on our family gatherings.

You need to make your own mistakes.

I like to think my parents always trusted me, even when I did not trust myself. When I decided to drop out of university, they disagreed, but they supported my decision. They warned me that we would disagree and argue, but they always let me make my own mistakes in the end.

I asked my dad about this a few years ago; we talked about my multiple push-bike accidents when I was learning how to ride.

“I always believe that my role as dad was not to prevent you from falling but to help you get back up on your bike again and again.” — he said.

Counsel and dialogue. Trust and respect. Empathy and love. Agency and learning. This is what I learned from my parents.

I have to go now, time to call my parents.

I decided to create a Substack to share some more personal stories like this one, if you feel like it, go follow me there: https://coelholucas.substack.com

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