During my mother’s burial I was already expecting that our estranged father would come visit and pay his last respect. After all he was still the legal spouse and he has the right to be there, at least, in the eyes of people of who knew our family.
When I saw him I was still in a state of shock even it was already the second day of the wake. It seemed like I was outside looking in of the whole situation. I did not bother to talk to him less acknowledge his presence. I cannot process that Mama passed away before him. I just felt, feel unfair.
I am not wishing that if only he would have died first but I just cannot contain the gravity of how hurt I am in losing Mama first. I know for myself that when he dies I would not prolong my grieving. I will mourn him but maybe I wouldn’t. His leaving 13 years ago has cemented the fact that he does not want anything to do with our family. He has already made a choice and that is to leave our mother and us, my three brothers to a life of his own. Words has been said to each other. All of us have been hurt and his remorse is impossible.
His wayward presence in our lives just made it even worse. It is just that we cannot move on from him more with my mother. Although he moved out of the house, he stayed and lived in the same small town where we reside. All our relatives, acquaintances and family friends would bring him up whenever they would have the chance of catching up with our mother. It was more like a recurring pain. A recycled plastic. A stain. A scar tissue that reminds all of us on how he was and what he has been up to which we really do not care. I know this has a different impact on our mother. It was like adding salt to the wound that never really healed. A constant fissure.
Thinking about this, Mama was really left heartbroken. She was honestly left broken to pieces by him. Never acknowledged her feelings of hurt, anger, disappointment and loss of trust. He was so full of himself really. Never an ounce, never a hint, never a bit of remorse or how sorry he was this happened to the family.
Over the years of separation, he has come up in the house trying to ask, to beg and pester my mother that he wanted to return and come back to the family. But what’s the catch for us. Our mother told him that we cannot trust him anymore. That we cannot see him as he is being in the family. He has such a way with words as if he is talking to us like 3 year old kids with little to no bother of the whole situation. It was a shame on him.
Seeing him at the funeral sucks. As much as I do not want to get affected by him but I can’t. The pain of losing Mama left me speechless and in trauma and he was just there sitting, looking blankly and as if he wanted to be acknowledged but fuck him. It just brings all the hurt again.
I really can’t feel sorry for him in losing Mama. He has lost her way before her death. He already chose to lose. My hurting is because I am thinking that Mama made that sacrifice, made that effort to give her four sons the better life she dreamt for us. She was the only one who stayed and has set aside her hurt and pain of the separation. I know she has always carried it with her to protect us, to continue to support and love us unconditionally as ever.
I terribly miss you, Ma.
THE KING IS BRAVE 