Story 3: The Old Man of Diyarbakir

I was the guest of an old man in Diyarbakir who had great wealth and a handsome son. One night he told me: In all my life I have had nothing but this son. There is a tree in this valley that people treat as a shrine, going there to ask for what they need. On long nights I wept at the foot of that tree, begging God, until He granted me this son. I overheard the son whispering to his friends: If only I knew where that tree stood, I would go and pray for my father to die. The old man was rejoicing that his son was wise, while the son was mocking that his father was a worn out old man. Years may pass in which you never once visit your own father's grave. What kindness did you ever do for your father, that you should expect the same from your son?