unsaid things for my father
The house is still there, but sometimes I wonder where the familial love went. Is it crushed by time that keeps going without ever looking back? Maybe time didn't corrode it, but showed me the changes that were beyond my control, proof of my helplessness as a human.
There were times when I noticed how my father’s love was changing. Maybe it was during high school? The passing of my Grandmother hit him hard and it went full snowball from that moment. He becomes the shell of who he is, resenting the world and everyone around him. Especially, those who are in the house with him.
He's not the type to burst out and curse everyone around him. He is more like an ice; unresponsive, apathetic, and trapped in his mind. Suddenly, the afternoon conversation that he usually had with Mom disappears altogether.. and the house feels colder. The strict but loving father that I know is not here anymore.
While he ignored my mom, he lashed out the most to me. Every small action seemed not good enough to him, which led to more harsh words that jabbed my heart. At first, I thought that perhaps I might deserve it. But as it kept coming, I felt like it was more like a resentment that he could not convey, but instead came out in the form of a stabbing dagger that somehow aimed at me.
It feels worse when I find myself distressed at the sight of him around the house, as I feel like I am walking on eggshells whenever he is around. The looming thought that he might scold me put a burden on my mind: When I couldn't take it anymore, I decided to leave the house and stay in a different city. Rarely see what I called home in the past.
Years later, I finally grew up and tried to have a decent conversation with him. Without further do, I asked what happened between him and his sperm donor (Which, in this narrative, I wouldn’t even acknowledge him as a “grandfather”) The story came out from his mouth flowing like a river, and I finally got some semblance of the root that nourishes his long-live heartache.
I can understand him as a person, at the end of the day, he is a hurting man.
But to tell the truth, he ended up hurting people who love him too.
Just as our relationship started to look better, my heart broke once again by his words. I finally gave up on any chance of a normal relationship with him. What makes everything worse is that I can see clearly that with my sisters, he can speak tenderly with the same lips that scorn me. Maybe I’m not the son you can be proud of, but am I not enough for you to love me gently, father?
The sad thing is that my mother always tried to bridge our relationship. She told me that, beyond everything, he loved me the most. But how could I believe you, Mom? If everything he shows me is only words filled with anger, is this the way he could love me?
In the end, all that pain, and I can’t even bear any hate towards you. I will always find inside my heart the love I have for you, father. But for now, I will let go of any attachments or expectations I had before. This is the only way I know to love you properly: To keep praying for your happiness and health, far from your acknowledgment or comfort.
