Tag Archives: Suffering

Red flags? Run, baby run… Part 2

In reality, when one loves for real, they lack the willpower to pull the plug on a relationship that already feels dead. One keeps holding on, tolerating all the pain, in the hope that the relationship will work out somehow. If experience has taught me anything, it’s that a failed relationship is just that; a failed relationship. Most of the time our instincts warn us, but we choose to ignore them.

I’ll keep saying it over and over again; sometimes it’s better to walk out than hold on to a relationship that’s already dead. The consequences are just not worth it. For instance, the friend of my friend’s sister is only twenty six years old. That’s too young to be going through marital hell. She knows her husband cheats on her but she doesn’t seem to find that an issue, and why you ask? Because she loves him.

These past few days alone, I’ve witnessed mom going through untold hell. Dad’s only getting meaner with each passing day. He’s already said he won’t be paying my sister’s school fee and mine. He doesn’t seem to care that I’ve only two semesters of law school to go. So now I’m putting all my faith in God. Only He knows why all things are happening this way.

One of my greatest consolations is that my big sister finished her masters degree and she managed to do it without dad’s help. So maybe after all, we won’t need his help either. I live for the day we’ll be freed from his imposed dominance. For instance, I’m unable to point out when he errs because he holds my school fee over my head, so if I openly disagree with him he threatens to cut me off.

Nowadays I avoid him like a plague because I won’t feel the need to lash back if I don’t hear or see him doing irksome things; and as it is, that’s who he is. Unfortunately, he still gets under my skin because he treats everyone else with utter disregard for their well-being. I’m pretty sure I hate him, but I’m constantly asking God to grant me the grace not let hate corrupt my soul.

My sister tried talking to him the other day after he publicly threatened to call some young men to beat mom up, and that was after he’d almost run her over. I knew he has a dark soul, but deep down I hoped he had changed. This wouldn’t be the first time he hit her in public, but the last time that happened was about a decade ago. My small sister is still traumatised by the events of that day.

One thing I’m pretty sure of is that if mom could go back in time, she’d make different choices. Lately she’s been saying constantly that there were red flags all around her when she and dad started going out; but she was a young naïve woman, who actually believed love conquers all. Apparently, it doesn’t always. In my humble opinion, love only triumphs when both parties in the relationship are willing to fight for their love.

Yesterday when we were leaving for church in the morning, dad was getting home after spending the night out drinking. He even had the audacity to ridicule us. According to him, God’s punishing us while He’s blessing Him. On a bad day, that might have crushed my spirits; because on the face of it, that’s how I’d interpret this dreadful situation we’re in.

Dad’s getting meaner by the day, yet he doesn’t seem to be suffering in any way. On the other hand, every day my mom, sisters and I feel like God has given up on us. But deep down I know He hasn’t. He acts in time, so we just need to continue hoping in Him.

The things dad said when we were leaving for church had me thinking he’s become the devil incarnate. Worse still, when we came back from church we found he’d locked the door from inside and had left the key in the keyhole. We panicked. I rang the doorbell a couple of times, hoping he would be kind enough to open. But he didn’t.

My small sis tried pushing the key out with another key but she failed. My big sis, who had gone to sit on the steps in anguish, afraid we would stay outside until dad decided to show mercy on us just rose, deciding to try her luck.

After a few attempts she finally managed. I just can’t explain how overjoyed we were. That felt like a major triumph. The possibility that dad might have fallen into deep slumber, given his inebriated state had us terrified. Worst part is my big sis had locked the door herself when she was leaving but dad – in an unnecessary show of might- opened the door and locked it from inside, so that had us reading malice into the whole thing.

When we walked into the house, mom obviously went straight to their bedroom and lo, and behold! Dad was just standing at the window, casually looking outside. Meaning he had seen us walking to the house, and even heard the doorbell ringing, but he chose not to open the door. Where I am right now, I feel like we’re living with the enemy.

Financial dependence is incapacitating. I can only think of one reason why my sisters and I are still living with dad. But where I’m at, I’m so convinced that when I move out I don’t want to remember I have a father. So in my humble opinion, one should run if the relationship they’re in feels dead. There’s no need waiting up to a point where everything just comes crumbling.

Red flags? Run, baby run… Part 1

You’re in a relationship, and there are red flags flying all around; alarms are just ringing… when is the best time to run? If you’ve been asking yourself that question, now might be the time to run. Don’t wait till it’s too late. A few weeks ago I was walking from class with a friend, and I was asking how she’d been the previous day since I hadn’t seen her. She went on to tell me how she had visited her sister and how she witnessed her sister’s friend, who was also visiting, go into labour.

She said it so casually so I just figured it was no biggie. It was just another case of an expectant woman realizing time had come for their bundle of joy to come into the world. At first I thought the lady’s labour pains were just a false alarm, until it hit me that she was actually going into labour. Only difference is, she hadn’t been rushed to hospital yet because she had rung her husband and was waiting for him to come drive her to the hospital.

My sister’s friend was nursing an infant herself and therefore couldn’t drive her friend to hospital. It took them a while to realise the dad-to-be, wasn’t going to be arriving soon. The lady obviously started panicking, afraid that her baby would die if she didn’t get to hospital soon. She had lost triplets before, so naturally she was afraid the same fate would befall this unborn baby.

Two hours later, on realizing that the friend’s husband had bailed, my  friend’s sister called a cab. About an hour later, the dad-to-be showed up, just when the cab was also arriving. Disappointingly, he was drunk. I had trouble understanding why the guy was acting so slothfully when the matter at hand sounded like it required urgent attention. If they hadn’t lost three babies already I just might have understood him, but realising what was at stake made me judge him harshly.

I’ve seen guys who are excited about the thought of being dads. It’s usually that excitement, coupled with the love they feel for their wives/baby mamas,. This particular dad-to-be however, couldn’t have seemed far from interested. He didn’t seem remotely concerned about the grief his wife would be subjected to if she lost a fourth child. My heart bled for the lady.

At first one would imagine the guy was just nervous about how this delivery was going to turn out; and in such a case, that would be perfectly understandable. However, what I gathered is that the man’s a philanderer. He’s always getting involved with younger girls because apparently he feels he’s very hot so in his opinion they find him irresistible.

“He must be on top of some woman, when his wife is here waiting for him,” my sister’s friend had speculated when she saw the panicky state her friend was in. Thankfully, the lady got to hospital safe but delivered through C-section as she’d taken too long to get to hospital since she went into labour. She had a bouncing baby girl. That was a miracle if you ask me.

It’s only been two years since lady got married to this guy. In my books, they should still be in their honeymoon stage, where they are still madly in love with each other. In other words, the marriage is still too fresh for the lady to have started living her unhappily ever after.

“Why is she still with him?” I asked my friend. “Does she depend on him in any way?”

“She recently took a loan to buy him a car,” my friend answered.

“So she’s financially independent. She can walk away now when it’s still early,” I replied.

“She loves him terribly. She doesn’t feel like she could live without him.”

I pitied the lady. She’s madly in love with a guy who doesn’t even seem to remember she exists. “That’s one-sided love,” I said. “At some point that marriage is bound to fail. Problem is, when that separation happens, it’s going to leave a very bitter and scarred woman in its wake. If that woman knew half of my mom’s story, or even the life my sisters and I have lived, she would take to her heels.”

Close of the Year of the Divine Mercy

divine-mercy

Last Sunday but one marked the close of the year of the Divine Mercy. That sounds weird I know; because God’s mercy is timeless and lasts for all time. However, this year we have been celebrating the year of God’s Divine Mercy. Thinking of what that title alludes to; the hopes and promises… it’s so easy to get discouraged if those prayers don’t come to fruition just yet.

That’s the situation my family and I find ourselves in. We’d hoped this year would somehow bring some relief after all we’ve been through but as this year comes to end what we feel is utter discouragement. Most of the things we had prayed would come to pass didn’t.

In any case things seemed to have gotten worse. For instance, dad’s drinking worsened and he squandered most of the money he had set aside for our school fees. So now we’re always getting in constant arguments with him because of that. Additionally, he completely neglected mom completely so basically the only thing that keeps them together is the marriage certificate.

Since he works out of town, he only comes home when he needs to withdraw a large amount of money from the bank. Normally he will call her to notify he’s coming home but as it is he’ll just take a detour, to some nearby bar and by the time he comes home it will be the next day at dawn, in a drunken stupor. It goes without saying that in that state there can be no civil conversation between him and anyone. When he talks it’s usually annoying because all he does is offend everyone.

Later in the afternoon he’ll wake up and go back to the bar. In all honesty, I cannot remember the last time I saw him eating at home. Mom, as a result of this, has been so stressed lately. If it wasn’t for the fact that I believe marriages are meant to be for keeps –in good times and bad times- I’d suggest she file for divorce and subsequently institute proceedings to get a church annulment.

Whatever little faith I had in matters marriage has completely waned. Now I feel like marriage is just a prison; an institution that one walks in filled with hope but gradually closes in on someone, leaving them constricted and without a way out. Mom’s a prisoner of love, and this year has left me absolutely doubtless that if she had married a different man she would have been very happy. A far-fetched dream from the misery, that is her life.

So now that the year of the Divine Mercy is behind us, I’m almost feeling desperate. Our lives completely denote the saying, that ‘the more things change, the more they remain the same’; even with everything around us changing, the only constant has been problems; which obviously everyone has. But my faith in God keeps reminding me that all hope is not lost because God’s mercy is timeless.

I would imagine there are very many people who are in similar situations; feeling spent because life seems to continue kicking even when someone’s already down. However, there’s one thing I refuse to give up on; hope. So if you’re feeling like my family and I are, don’t give up just yet. There’s hope. I know that because there’s this deep conviction I have that God listens; so if you have been praying and hoping, that big break is in the offing. Believe it…faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains, remember?

All through, since I became aware of my own existence, I’ve always believed God never disappoints those who hope in Him; and more often than not, He’s proved me right. So today, even if you’re feeling distraught, don’t give up; because tomorrow we’ll be a better day. Why, you ask? Because He lives.

Flipping the humanity switch off

humanity-switch

I’m not sure if this is a good or a bad thing, but lately I feel like I could switch my ‘humanity switch’ off; if I could. That sounds weird I know; but I’m thinking of the instances in the Vampire Diaries, where a vamp, say Elena Gilbert (played by Nina Dobrev), Stefan Salvatore (Paul Wesley) or Damon Salvatore (Ian Somerhalder), who are the three most popular actors of the show flip their humanity off.

In the show however, what usually happens is that when one of the immortal creatures runs into one of life’s inevitable painful moments, and it becomes unbearable, they just do one of the things their superhuman nature affords them, namely, flipping their humanity switch off.

Basically, what this feature helps them with is that they stop feeling. Emotional pain becomes just another trivial feeling, that’s barely discernible to them. Knowing how bad it feels to hurt, I would say that’s a pretty awesome thing; I mean, who wants to feel pain, right?

We lose loved ones; businesses we’ve worked tirelessly to build come crashing down like washed up sand castles at the beach; people we love to bits cheat on us without the slightest care in the world… truth of the matter is, we live in a callous world, and it would help tonnes if it were possible to flip some switch off, so we can stop ourselves from feeling some of this annihilating pain.

As it is though, we wouldn’t value life so much were it not for these painful moments we go through which make us human. I bet that’s why TVD’s scriptwriters called it the ‘humanity switch’. One thing I know is that the pain we feel keeps us connected to our humanity; it makes us refrain from doing things that would cause pain and untold suffering to the rest of the populace.

For instance in the show, Stefan Salvatore is usually a laid back vampire, whose determination to do good prevents him from feeding on human blood, even though he’s an actual vampire, whose main prescribed dish is warm/fresh human blood, straight from the vein; even blood bags are frowned upon by the rest of the vampires. To keep his craving for human blood to a minimum, he avoids the temptation all together by feeding on animal blood.

Sometimes however, he also bumps into issues which force him to turn his humanity switch off. Like this one time, a stronger vampire (an original), Nick Klaus compelled him to turn it off and once he did, what we (viewers) were treated to were gory scenes of beheaded humans, courtesy of Stefan. When he flips that switch off, he’s referred to as ‘the ripper’ because he decapitates people in a heartbeat and actually revels in it. That’s when one realizes how it’s important for one to feel, because feeling makes us human.

rainbow-without-a-little-rainbow

Lately though, I find myself confronted with situations which have me wishing I could flip some switch off, even if it’s for a day, just so I don’t feel the pain. Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I slept soundly without a care in the world. Even my waking moments are marred by conflicting thoughts, which threaten my sanity. I feel everything around me is pushing me towards the edge of the precipice.

I’ve even started questioning my faith; maybe I’m not praying enough; or maybe God turned His back on me. That’s the thought that crossed my mind as I walked the short distance to church this past Sunday. Then in the midst of all that anguish, I remembered that God never gives up on His people. He never abandons those who call on Him.

As it is, I feel my life’s a mess right now and the thought of a new day makes me tense up. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring but I’m hopeful it will all be well, because God lives. So as I desperately wish I could flip my humanity off so I don’t feel pain, I also appreciate the fact that pain plays an integral part in our lives. That pain makes us human; mindful of other human beings and creatures. So we just can’t wish it away, much as it makes life miserable.

Perfectly imperfect

Do you ever wake up and wonder why you’re on this earth? What purpose you’re meant to achieve? Sometimes I feel that. Lately my sisters and I have been asking that a lot. The stage we’re in currently puts us in that situation where we constantly question the purpose we’re meant to accomplish. Sometimes life does that to people…

Like an answer to these questions, I found an old post I had written a while back but it was just a rough draft I’d scribbled on my notebook. As I was reading it, I felt some sense of calm descend upon me, as I was reminded of something important; each one of us has a purpose we’re meant to accomplish. We might not have realized it yet but in time it will be revealed to us.

That particular draft I’d written one Sunday evening, after hearing the story at mass earlier that day. While giving his sermon, the deacon had told us about a man who owned two jars. One was in perfectly good condition, while the other one had a crack on it.

Every morning this man would wake up and he would carry the two jars down to the river. Given the jars’ condition, it always happened that the man would get back home with the perfect jar full, whereas the other one was almost empty.

For many days, the broken jar wondered why its owner insisted on using it when he should already have discarded it. It was broken; imperfect; of what use was it? Eventually it asked the man why he was still using it, yet it always got home almost empty, unlike the perfect jar, which served its function perfectly. Affectionately, the man asked the jar to pay close attention the next day, when they’d be coming back from the river.

Anxiously, the jar waited for the next morning. Soon it was going to find out what purpose it was meant to achieve. The next day finally came and as instructed, the jar watched closely as the man carried it and the perfect jar back to the house.

On its side were beautiful flowers lined along the path. The man explained that he had noticed the jar’s defect and had decided to make use of it. He had planted flowers along the way and watered them every single day with the water leaking from the jar. From its imperfection, the flowers had been nourished. The man further explained that its perceived imperfection made it perfect for a different purpose.

Given that humans are flawed beings, I would say each one of us is like the broken jar. In our own way we’re all broken. We’re imperfect. Like my sisters and myself, someone might be looking at the life they’re leading and they might be wondering what good could possibly come from it.

Well, here’s the thing; our lives might not be perfect; we are undoubtedly imperfect, but the good news is that God focuses on our little imperfections and He brings out the best from them. If I could use examples of people we know or might have heard of; Simon Peter had imperfections of his own. He denied Christ three times, among other things, yet Jesus chose him to be the rock on which His church would be founded.

St. Paul, formerly known as Saul, was a persecutor of Christians. Yet, unbelievably, he became one of the most acclaimed men in history. God didn’t shun him, instead he chose him as one of his humble servants; through someone society detested He made His name known. St, Augustine was also a flawed man and we now celebrate him as a saint…

Imperfections may vary. It could be a physical challenge that one has; it could be the abject poverty which hinders one from achieving their dreams; it could be a sinful life one is living…but as the saying goes, ‘all saints have a past and all sinners have a future.

Point is, we shouldn’t let the current stage we’re in, in life discourage us. We’re capable of so much, even in our imperfections; because those imperfections are what make us unique and therefore perfect. So if you’re there wondering what purpose you’re meant to fulfill, don’t give up on yourself, or on life. Because like the broken jar, in time God will reveal to us too what plans He has in store for us.

We’re not put on this earth because we’re perfect, or to lead perfect lives. On the contrary, God appoints each one us for a special mission, fully aware of our imperfections; and He doesn’t love us less. So if He, who is the quintessence of perfection accepts us in all our ‘flawedness’, who are we to love ourselves, or our lives less?

Since it might take a while before we discover what we’re meant to accomplish in this life, we should take each day as it comes…and be the best we can be…and whatever the situation is, we shouldn’t despair.

Father forgive them, for they know not what they do

Jesus crucified

In life, there will always be times when every person is wronged by another (s). That’s just the way life is. It could be an innocent child, molested by a man/woman they thought was their protector; a father for instance, and they’re too young to comprehend what happened to them, until much later when they realize they were raped.

It could be a very loving and faithful wife, married to a very abusive husband, who comes home late at night, wreaking of alcohol and spewing insults, annihilating the woman’s self-esteem in ways so unimaginable, so she never feels worthy of mingling with other human beings. Occasionally, the woman will be walking around with a swollen face, marred by bruises put on her by the man she loved or still loves.

It could even be a naïve faithful, taken advantage of by someone she thought was her spiritual guide; a pastor, who was supposed to help them attain salvation.

It could even be an emaciated kid, wandering the cold, unsafe streets at night in sheer solitude, simply because their mom abandoned them when they were still infants…or because they couldn’t stand their father’s abuse at home and therefore chose to flee.

I could only think of so many instances… the list is endless.

As human beings, when we’re in the hands of our tormentors, we curse them and ask God to avenge us. That’s only normal. In recent posts, I’ve mentioned how lately dad has become so heartless and egocentric. He flagrantly shows up in the house in a drunken stupor, staggering sometimes and he starts hurling insults at us.

In one particular episode, about a month ago, he was sitted on the couch sipping on some beer. A while later he started arguing with mom and before long, he was on his feet. Grabbing the bottle, he walked to the entrance door and did the unthinkable. He tipped the bottle, emptying its contents on a floor that hadn’t dried completely since I’d mopped it only recently.

It was a Sunday evening and, I had been breaking my back since I came from church, trying to clean the house. By the time I was done my back was in pain from accumulated fatigue since I have classes six days a week and I hadn’t been resting.

I could barely contain my rage. “Why have you become this unfeeling?” I asked him. “I’ve just finished mopping”.

“It’s my money,” he replied, “I can do with it as I please.”

“How could you do that?”

To my utter disappointment, he didn’t seem remorseful one bit. “I can still spill some more,” he threatened.

Incensed, I barked. “Even the mightiest people know when to say sorry”.

“Just get out of here!” He ordered, his words slurred.

“Money has made you this arrogant,” I continued, my voice raised. “May God take it all away. And you see how you’ve been treating us like worthless trinkets? You’ll come to us, crawling on your knees, asking for forgiveness”. I was feeling so hurt at such haughtiness, that I was shaking, my fists tightly clenched. At that point I know I could have done something so drastic. It’s no wonder nowadays I always avoid getting involved in any altercations with him because I fear I could do something bad. God-forbid!

“You’re talking like that because I already paid your school fee,” he argued. This is because he cut my two sisters off and said they shouldn’t even call him dad.

“Money’s not everything,” I countered vehemently. “Respect’s a two way street. If you want us to respect you, you should also accord us the same… and right now you’re not doing that.” With that I left, just to go cool off.

A while later, while he was spewing insults, like he’s being accustomed to, I heard a dull thud, followed by my sisters’ giggles… and I got all curious. While I was about to head back to the living room, I heard them say amid laughter, “See?”

Apparently, he had slipped on the wet floor, courtesy of the beer he had spilled and had fallen on the ground. Knowing my sisters, I knew the laughter wasn’t malicious. Dad naturally hates it when we laugh, so they just wanted to drive a point home; that in his arrogance he had poured the beer on the floor, only to end up on the same floor; that he had erred by pouring that beer and worse still, seeming so unapologetic about it. When he got back to his feet, he opened another bottle and emptied it on the floor again…

Today’s Easter Monday. Last week was a Holy week, where we celebrated the Holy Triduum (three holy days) starting from Holy Thursday evening, when Jesus washed His disciple’s feet before celebrating the Last Supper with them in preparation for His Passion; celebrated on Good Friday when He dies on the cross, the Easter Vigil Mass, on Holy Saturday; to Easter Sunday. Yesterday, we celebrated His glorious resurrection, when He triumphed over death.

On Good Friday, when the priest was giving his brief sermon, he emphasized on forgiveness. “Jesus didn’t curse His tormentors for putting Him through so much agony when He was entirely blameless. Instead, He asked His Father, ‘Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do’”.

Just like Jesus forgave His tormentors, we’re also called to forgive those who make us suffer unjustly; as opposed to cursing them. Speaking from my own personal experience, it’s very difficult forgiving someone/people who torment us incessantly; but following in Christ’s footsteps, I’m making a personal effort to forgive my dad and all those I feel make my life miserable.

I’m not in the habit of wishing ill upon others but unfortunately, that is something that’s growing on me from the constant conflicts I have with dad. I ask for God’s grace to do only, that which pleases Him. It’s really not easy but I have to try. We all should.

Jekyll and Hyde: Part 2

The entire time I was thinking, uh… duuuh… we’re the ones in the car. Obviously we’ll get there first. But I didn’t want to exchange nasty words with him on the first day of the year, so I bit my tongue. As we were exiting the court gate, he took more than enough time signing out and at that point we were all regretting why we thought he would be different that day. He’s pulled his delaying tactics one too many times but every time we fall for it, thinking he’ll do things right.

While we were nearing the junction, he saw my sister ahead of us so he used the opposite route. My big sis asked him to act like a Christian for once and do the right thing but instead he just stepped on the accelerator, speeding up, blatantly ignoring the estate’s 20km/h speed limit. I was afraid we were going to crash.

While we were nearing the main exit gate, we pleaded with him to go back for my sister. The roads looked so deserted that morning and the road to the church was lined with pubs. We were therefore afraid she would bump into a nasty drunk along the way and there would be no one to defend her if God-forbid anything happened.

Maliciously, he refused to slow down on all speed bumps. I really wished he acted like the grown up he was. But I never really bank on people acting their age, because as the adage goes, “If age imparted wisdom, there would be no old fools”.

Eventually he agreed to turn around. When he saw my small sister though, he slowed down, almost to a halt that, even a snail would have beaten us to the finish line.

“You see how she’s walking?” He derided, mimicking her walking style. “I know she’s going to meet up with a boy.”

By then it was around 8.30am; a half hour since mass began. We requested him to drive a bit faster because we were getting late. When we were drawing close to her, my big sis rolled the mirror down and started calling out her name. She didn’t know we were behind her.

We should have known better though, because the instant we got to her, dad branched, driving to the opposite direction. My big sis and I shouted in protest, asking him why he was being so mean. She and a cousin of ours were sitted on the back seat, holding some mirrors that had been taken from the cabinets in mom’s beauty salon, but had been left in the car. They had cost so much money and my big sis was afraid they would break. Mom was already too stressed about closing up her salon and we figured the last thing she needed was to have any of her items break.

We agreed with my big sis I was going to catch up with our small sis, so she wouldn’t walk alone. At the time I was so mad at her because I was thinking if she had waited patiently for dad to get done with his crappy delaying schemes we would all have gotten to church in time for the mass. We’d wasted so much time on the road chasing after her. That however, I would deal with much later. All I needed at that point was to get to church.

As I was getting out, I realized the door couldn’t open, so I would have to use the co-driver’s. I rose from my seat, trying to get to the front but dad stepped on the emergency break and my head rammed into the dashboard. I wasn’t hurt as much as I was pissed.

“I can’t do anything to avenge myself dad,” I told him, “but remember, God is always watching.” With that I got out. I walked the remaining distance to church, huffing when dad just drove past me. He was clearly doing to me the same thing he’d done to my sister. I walked behind my sister all the way to church because I couldn’t catch up with her.

By the time I got to church, all the readings plus the gospel had been ready and the priest was giving the homily. I had missed much but I was glad to be in the house of God. I was mad and hurt, so I took a while to meditate, in an attempt to calm myself down.

My sister and my cousin made it to church way after we had given our offertory but I was happy they had made it. Turns out they had gone back to the house to take mom’s mirrors.

When mass ended we all walked back home sharing our morning experiences. Obviously, my cousin was so shocked by the whole incident. “Is this how we’re spending New Year’s?” He’d asked. Luckily we had already given him a crash course on dad’s misbehaviour in case our old man screwed up while he was still visiting.

Dad was sound asleep when we got home. The morning had just been a weird one. When he woke up in the afternoon, it’s like he had morphed into an entirely different person in his sleep. He was jolly and meek, and even agreed to take mom shopping for some household utilities. When I served him fries for lunch he didn’t complain even though he’s always saying how much he hates them. Later, he asked for some more. We couldn’t help but wonder if that was the same man who had sabotaged our church going. It was all too unreal.

I couldn’t help but think Mr Hyde had screwed up with our morning and Dr Hyde had spent New Year’s with us. One person; but totally different personalities. One thing I know is that dad has some good in him, only that it surfaces very rarely. Unfortunately for my family and I, Mr Hyde is the one who’s in control most of the time.