When We Were Children…

I know my sister is going to kill me for posting this photo here.  This was just after the death of our father.  Angeline and I.

I know my sister is going to kill me for posting this photo here. This was just after the death of our father. Angeline and I.

When we were children, our parents separated. As there was no Divorce in the Philippines, they just mutually and silently decided that they cannot be together anymore. There was a time that they decided to reunite, only to part ways again after a couple of months. I have always thought that I knew what was happening. When I was pondering life this morning in the car on the way to work, I realized that I do not. I never did.

When we were children, we did not have the option to choose how and where to grow up. We were raised by my mother’s family, as my mother has to be away to live her life. What I knew was she was never there. I remembered receiving a card once for my birthday, and another for my graduation in Grade School. I remembered feeling very happy everytime my mother comes back home from Manila as we had cans and cans of Pringles for 3 days and Coca Cola’s to drink with our meals. 5 days later, as I always anticipated, we become broke again.

When we were children, I found out that my father’s family wants to take care of us. They asked us from my mother but she refused. She said that she was our mother that we had to stay with her. We stayed. But she did not. When we were children, we grew miles and miles apart in distance and at heart.

When we were children, I knew I suffered. My sister suffered. I think she suffered even more than me. She told me once when were having dinner in a restaurant some few years back when we were children no more that she was told by a relative that if my grandparents die, they will not take us in with them. That they will not take care of us anymore. I think they forgot that we will not be forever children. That eventually, we will all grow up. And they will grow old.

When we were children, I wished and I prayed everynight for my father to come back. He did, once, when I was 11. It was the best New Year’s Eve ever. He left again one day in March. I waited with my sister the whole day by the side of the road. He left by saying that he will just go and get us our lunch. I waited until even the sun was down. He never came. It was one of the most painful a child can experience.

Now that I have my own child, and my sister a full-pledge English and Literature teacher, I decided that it is time to forgive our parents. I forgive them…

.. For I love them so.

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