Son and Daughter of Life

I rushed outside the house holding my tears as I can still hear the echoing voice of my father, criticizing and judging so nastily. My mother followed me through the bushes in our front yard. My heart was pounding so fast, full of anger and disgust. I sobbed and fight all the miseries I kept at the time. I taught myself not to cry. Someday, he will know my worth.

“I’m sorry. Your father doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s just upset and stressed out,” my mother explained so calmly. I never looked at her nor say anything at all. I just continued sobbing, so confused.

“How could a father do that to his kid?” My mind drifts aimlessly. “Okay, stop crying now. Please understand that he loves you. That’s how he shows his love. He doesn’t know how to express his love and his appreciation but he's proud of you”, my mother is begging me to come inside.

It was dark and we just finished our dinner. I was so happy handing out my paper to my Mom and told her how I did in school. I was so proud of myself since I got the highest score in our class.

“You didn’t get a perfect score? That’s a chicken, a very easy quiz!” he said awfully. “A first grader can do better than that. I thought you’re smart!” he continued on and on. My father was annoyed and gave me a sarcastic laugh.

“Will you stop it? Your daughter didn’t invite you to see her paper!” my Mom screamed at him. “Why? Don’t I have the right to know?” he was fuming.

Then, there was a series of yelling and fighting. The neighbors heard it. Everybody seemed to stop eating and listened to the fights.

My father hurt my feelings so bad; yet, he didn’t even apologize for what he did. Yes, that’s my father. I don’t know where his attitude came from but that seemed to be the missing part of my growth.

I was so envious of my friends who were awarded for money by their parents depending on their score. I even got better grades than them but my father seemed not pleased by it.

My father is still the same person after all these years. A year ago, I went home for a visit and I could see his delighted face. One night, he came home drunk and he hugged me.

“You just don’t know how proud I am for what you did to the family. If not because of you, the family will not be like this today. You are the hero to the family!” he said while covering his face with the pillow as he lay down on the floor getting ready to take a nap.

“Yeah, right! If you die and God will ask you- what good did you do for your family? What would be your reply?” I asked him.

“Oh, you didn’t know but I prayed for all of my kids. I did everything I could” he said like he doesn’t mean it. He was drunk anyway.

Yes, twenty years later he is still the same person who definitely doesn’t know how to become a father nor doesn’t know how to function as a father.

Don’t get me wrong, I felt bad and sad for my father more than anybody else. Our relationship has grown over the years. I never hated him for being dysfunctional at times. I understand him better as I grew older and have become more tolerant of him. Even better than my Mom.

“Are you talking to your Father or what? You seemed to forget that” my Mom reminded me one time. I’m the only one in the family who can talk to him like a younger brother or somebody of the same age. I feel as though that’s how I can communicate with him better.

It's no big deal anymore. I never lived with my past or struggle with hatred against my parents. Not even when I was growing up.

Life is just a test that we have to pass and if we fail, we can retake the test. Otherwise, we would have taught what to do in every step of the way. It doesn't have to be taken seriously though.

If all kids will expect their parents to be perfect, then it must be a tough ride. I bet you.