When I started this blog a few months ago, I told dad about it in my excitement. But I doubt he’s ever read any of my posts. If ever he comes across this “twisted kinda love posts,” I know he’ll either hate me for it, or feel guilty enough to want to change. I’m not even asking that he be perfect; no one is. Even I am tremendously flawed.
As it turns out, not everyone was lucky enough to have a father. Sometimes I hear people complaining about how miserable their lives are because they weren’t lucky enough to have a dad; but take it from me, that is not a reason to not enjoy life. Yesterday evening, I was very happy, until dad came home drunk, long after mom had gone to bed, and then he started playing some songs that were played at grams’ funeral barely a month ago.
I felt disappointed. He knows mom hasn’t fully recovered from the shock of her mom’s passing, yet he chose to play those particular songs. I don’t know if I’m the only one who feels this, but songs are very good at bringing back memories. They remind one what s/he was doing when they last heard that song, especially if it’s a song one doesn’t listen to everyday.
Earlier in the afternoon, after Sunday mass, I had a conversation with my big sister; I told her dad was every woman’s nightmare. It was a very long reflective train of thought that had brought me to that deduction. When he started playing those songs at night my sister just told me, “You were right. Dad is every woman’s nightmare.” He should have been consoling mom, not aggravating the situation. Mom was very close to her mom. After grams’ passing one of my aunts was concerned mom wasn’t grieving; she thought mom was still in denial. It was only when grams was being lowered into the grave that she wailed. Knowing mom, I know she was greatly affected by it.
I just couldn’t hide my rage when I heard dad playing the music on full blast like he was at a crusade. Worse still, he made sure all the major doors were open; he deliberately opened them. I’ve still not understood why he did that. While trying to comprehend his behaviour, many things came to mind. Before grams died, mom called him, asking if he would help her clear the hospital bill. He only comes home on weekends as he received a job transfer slightly over a decade ago. He went M.I.A for two days; he didn’t even call her to ask how grams was doing. Mom’s the one who called to inform him of grams’ passing. If grams were alive, I know she would be displeased with the treatment dad’s giving mom.
When grams was still alive, she adored dad. I’ve never seen a mother-in-law who treated her son-in-law with so much TLC. If dad’s mom showed my mom half of the TLC, I know mom would be a very happy daughter-in-law.
Maybe I’m making too big a deal out of it; but then I have many instances to reference his actions to. Whenever his siblings or mother calls, he always sends them money, even when he feels it’s too much; he always budges. I’ve always wondered why he refuses to cut the cord; I’ve seen the way his siblings treat him. I would hate it if my sisters treated me like that. They never involve him in any plans. Whenever they call him it’s always to ask for some contribution for some unimportant occasion, or if they want him to give them a ride because their cars are in some garage getting serviced. I just don’t feel the love. Maybe that’s where dad inherited his twisted kind of love.
I know more than enough instances where his family mistreated mom, but I don’t recall him standing up for her at any given time. He is the type of person who would rather go eat out than prepare food for his sick wife. He’s done that so many times. Once, he went out to drink leaving mom sick. My small sister, who was about five at the time, walked mom to a nearby clinic; my big sister and I were away in boarding school.
At the clinic, mom was given some ointment which she was supposed to rub on her back. Dad wouldn’t do it, so again, my sister, with her tiny palms had to do it. I can’t sum up all the instances I’ve seen dad act all irresponsible. If I broke it down it would be a novel.
I’ve never asked that he be perfect, but what hurts most is the fact that he takes mom for granted. He never treats her like the amazing woman she is. If I was sure talking this out with him would help him change, I would do it; but I’ve tried it and it failed. He repeats the same mistakes over and over again, and the worst part is he never seems remorseful about it.
Everytime we fall out I always find it in me to forgive him, because the bible tells us to forgive seventy times seven times (Matthew 18:22). It’s never easy, but knowing that God would be happy with me if I forgave him gives me the strength. Unfortunately, he hasn’t made an effort to change his errant ways. That leaves me wondering; he always says he loves us, but his actions make it impossible for us to believe him. I don’t think he loves us; and again I can’t help but insist, maybe he does love us, but in a very twisted way, because what I see him doing? That’s not love.