By: NOTSO Bad
“Buti ka pa buo pamilya mo”, my
girlfriend would jealously blurt out whenever she misses her dad. “Di gaya ko,
broken family” she would add. For years I have believed on that lie, a lie that
soon would turn my life into a mess I can barely survive.
I was raised having a notion that
I have perfect parents. That they love each other and would never separate for
the rest of their lives. And I would
boastfully tell my friends at school that I have a complete family and would
tease those who don’t.
So gullible of me.
Then one night, I was awakened by
a loud noise, a man shouting. It was my dad, shouting over the phone with my
mom at the end of the line. I can only make sense of some of their conversation
since it was almost about shouting and cussing. At first I didn’t mind that
incident because I thought that it was normal for couples to fight. Dismissed
by this notion, I immediately went to bed.
A couple of weeks later, the
shouting and the cussing over the phone would start again at the middle of the
night.
Then weeks becomes days. Then it
would became a regular routine for my parents.
My mom is an OFW, and would only
spend a one and a half month vacation for every two years. And the sight would
be so lovely, complete family, conversations, and outings. But ever since their fight, it seems that
every time would come home, she grew colder and colder towards my dad.
Then fights would start, words at
first, then words becomes physical.
Later, nights would become eerily
quiet. Not because the fights are over but because my mom stopped calling.
Giving my dad the ultimate silent treatment a man can get. Even if it means not
talking to us, her children. There also came to a point where she stopped
giving allowance. We would eat only once a day. Rice with salt. Rice with soy
sauce, fish sauce and what not. I would turn down extracurricular activities.
My younger brother and sister, even though silent on this dilemma, I know are
aware of what was happening. I can see on their faces the loneliness, the
confusion, the trauma children of their age should not witness.
My dad in turn would drown in the
presence of liquor. Although I would like to say that my father is not an
alcoholic and have not maltreated us in anyway.
It was painful for me. To see my
family in this state. I would hate my mom so much for this. I would then visit
the comfort of vices. Cigarettes, alcohol, drugs. My friends and I would skip
classes, and would get ourselves drunk in the middle of the day, returning to
our classroom with the stench of alcohol and cigarette on our uniform to finish
the rest of whatever subjects are left to attend to. At night, were most of my
high school life was spent, was devoted to our regular “gala” where we would
roam around the town, tripping(stoned), would
seized every opportunity we can to destroy something we feel like to –
streetlights, parks, the plants, etc. Rumbles are a normal scene we would
actively and happily participate.
But even with all these things, I
still could not shake the thought of what was happening to our family. It
haunts me day by day. All the more I drink and smoke hoping these would help me
forget. Until I could do no more.
That is also the sole reason why
I am here today. I planned to escape the place where it makes me remember
everything that made me the person I was back then. So the moment the result
came up, I grabbed it.
Wanting to start again, I cut off
all the communications I have with my (bad) friends in the lowland. But the
addiction was still there, I can’t help myself. Ironically, my first roommate
was a cop. One who I can confidently say is one of the good cops. So little by
little all of my vices were replaced by chats, in short he became my father
figure in this new stage of my life I was taking. He made me realize that what
I was doing ain’t doing me no good.
At first it was hard to admit I’m
wrong. I can’t even call to my mom. But time healed my broken heart. I opened
my facebook account and started typing, trying to compose a message to my mom
on the chat box.
I pressed enter.
Immediately after, my mom
replied, worried sick. We spent hours chatting. Reconciling. But we never
talked about their status with dad.
Up to this day, whenever I
brought up the topic about dad, she would leave me seenzoned. Then I grew tired
of being the mediator between them. My father, is always eager to make amends,
it’s my mom who can’t seem to swallow her pride.
It’s been five years now. And not
a single call from mom was ever made to dad.
It’s been five years now. And my
dad still waits for his phone to ring. Waiting for that call.
It’s been five years now.
It kills me.
My parents, under the eyes of the
law are still married. But are we even complete?
Divorce would have been
better.
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SocSci 10 Z Group 4
Jaeger Dwayne
Tamara,
Mike Gyro Paras,
Anthony Teofilo
Jr.,
GiannaCapacia,
Faye Mendoza,
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