It’s never easy talking about my deceased mother. It’s even harder discussing my estranged father. I try not to if I could help it. It’s pretty much a good day if I don’t hear from him–no miss calls, no text messages.
Yesterday wasn’t one of those days.
Around 9pm, I received a knock on my bedroom door telling me that he was on the phone waiting for me. This didn’t sit well with me as there’s nothing more I want than for him to leave me alone. Normally, I’d make up some excuse but I eventually went downstairs and took the call.
Suffice to say it wasn’t a very long conversation. It’s not even much of a conversation as he did most of the talking–asking me questions like how was I doing..how’s work..how’s life without him (not exactly phrased like that of course). So many questions and all I ever answered each time was “opo”–which is the polite Filipino way of answering elders though it doesn’t necessarily mean yes. I haven’t spoken with him nor seen him in 5 years…I almost did 4 years ago during my grandmother’s wake…but of course, I figured out a way to get out of that one as well. Even when we used to live together and my mother had already passed, we were like strangers. We hardly spoke to each other and I couldn’t even stand being in the same room with him.
There are times in my head when I’d just like to give it to him straight…tell him the things I never liked about him even when my mother was alive…stuff I didn’t like when she died. I can’t even bear to say it here as the very thought of those things irks me. Unfortunately I’m not that kind of person who gives it straight to people. I’m not a fighter and I don’t like arguments. I’ll probably end up looking like a villain if I do tell him. Why? Because he’s already a senior citizen and in this society you should never talk back to your elders. I’m keeping everything in at the expense of my sanity.
I know I’m doing something wrong. These things…even when you feel hurt or sad there’s always someone, somewhere who’ll tell you, “well, it’s sort of your fault..at least some parts of it”…and I know I’ll be the first person to admit that as well. Well, my father’s faults are his…and the fact that I get annoyed everytime he tries to get in touch because I wouldn’t make peace with him is mine.
All I know is, right now…I’m not yet ready. Sometimes I think I don’t know if I’ll ever be.
photo not my property
Wonderwall