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@Jane edited

My Father Was A Monster

June 20, 2021 I still remember when I was young about 3-7 years old, we used to play with our father every time he's home from duty. He used to carry us on his back or hang on his shoulders. He's strong and we were proud of him as being a soldier. Something that we can boast to our friends so they won't gonna dare to bully us. That's how kids think anyway 😅.

We were always excited and looking forward to seeing him because he always has presents for us, food or new clothes, and our mother always prepares delicious food every time he is at home. And aside from food and new clothes, he also gives us some coins, one peso coin was too much for us already at that time. But as we grow up, he changes as well. From being a sweet and friendly father, he became strict and ruled our family with an iron fist. And we, his children, hated him, and don't even want him to go back home again. He became more strict in our studies and deprived us of playing outside and always wanted us to study at home. So every time he is at home, we were not allowed to go out, and whoever will disobey his rules will receive a big leash from him. And as a kid, I feared him, I feared his loud voice, I feared his iron fist. I can't see my father anymore, as a monster started to cloud over him. I don't want to receive a leash from him, so I chose to stay inside every time he's on vacation at home. But one day, we were unnoticed about his arrival so my two eldest brothers played outside the whole day. They like going out with their friends and play whatever kids like to play. If my memory is right, they were about 10-12 years old at that time. My father arrived home and they were nowhere to be found. He was too mad at my mother for allowing them to play outside with their friends. He always wanted us to study or do house chores. At night, my two brothers arrived at home, trembling and afraid of what our father will do to them. I witnessed how my father put a leash on them using his leather belt. My brothers were all screaming in pain already but my father continued to punish them. He wasn't satisfied with his belt and so he grabbed a rope, tied my brother's feet, placed them inside the rice sacks, and hanged them upside down on the ceiling. I was terrified and pitied my brothers. They were crying and begging to be forgiven, but my father waited for a couple of minutes before he put them down. In my mind I hated my father, he's a soldier, but he should not treat his children like an enemy that needs to be punished. One night we were studying, my father likes teaching us mathematics as he thought it's the most difficult subject in school. I was lucky to easily absorb all the lessons he has taught us, but my second brother was quite slow to catch up. He was too mad at my brother for failing to answer his given question, it's not because he's dumb, but because he was pressured for seeing our father on his side, teaching while scolding him. Who can think well in that situation anyway? My brother started to cry and my father became annoyed, he grabbed the pen and stabbed it in my brother's hand. The blood oozed out and I was shocked by what I have seen. I wanted to cry, but I didn't, because my father might get mad at me as well. Later my father realized his fault when he saw the blood on his son's hand. He took out some cotton and alcohol and treated my brother's wound. That's my father, he has an iron fist and a harsh mouth, but once he gets back to his senses, he will realize his mistakes and will treat whoever received bruises and wounds from him. But we still hated him for being so impatient and treating us like a soldier. A mistake of one is a mistake of all, that is how he ruled our family. My brothers became rebellious instead of obeying his rules. And sometimes they envy me for being my father's favorite child. They thought I was the favorite one as our father never put a leash on me because I was always following his rules and doing good in my studies. But one day, he was at home, and I was about to go to school. Our house is quite far from our school as it is located outside our town's capital. We usually ride a *pedicab* (a small pedal-operated vehicle) but at that time, there was no pedicab passing by. It was past one in the afternoon already and obviously, too late to attend our class. My father saw me and scolded me for not walking to school instead of waiting for too long. He ordered me to sit on the floor, and he took out a piece of wood and for the first time, I received a leash from him. But that was the last as well, as he never did it to me again, and I didn't disobey him again. But despite his negative treatment of us, he never fails to support us financially. But it wasn't what we only need from him. He wasn't there during our birthdays, holidays, and special events, he was always away, and when he was at home, he was always mad as if we were always doing wrong even if we weren't. We were like birds being caged and our freedom and supposed to be colorful childhood life has been robbed. We were only free when he was on duty and so our mother just let us do anything whenever our father is not at home even if she knows that our father would be against her decisions. That's why they always quarreled because of my mother's opposite treatment to us. My father always likes our mother to treat us like his, with an iron fist. My eldest brother did not finish college and chose to have his own family, to be freed from my father's iron cage, to avoid taking the burdens of responsibilities. When my second brother entered the military, he chose to settle as well as he doesn't like my father so much, he was the most rebellious, and the black sheep of the family. When I graduated from college, my father betrayed our mother. He had a mistress, and that I hated him more. How dare he betray our kind and hardworking mother, a mother who became a father every time he was away. A mother who was always there every stormy night and devastating day. A mother who give love to us that he didn't. But for some reason, everything went fine. Perhaps, my father realized his mistakes again and chose to go back home to our mother. But his realization was always late, and we have already formed hate in our hearts and minds. Our mother may have forgiven him, but not us. My eldest brothers chose their own paths and I was left alone, taking full responsibilities on my shoulder, and I witnessed more leashes and heard more profanity while staying inside my father's territory. That's why I chose to be always away from home, rented a room in the city, and just visited home every special occasion. When he retired from his service, I know that our house will be more chaotic. Who will ever want to have a monster father at home every day anyway? Every time I called my family to know their situation, my little siblings are always complaining about my father's loud voice and harsh treatment of them. I resigned from my job when my mother asked me to help her manage her business. Just after a few weeks of staying at home, the strongest typhoon in Philippine history came and caused havoc in our region. I became jobless for more than a year as I helped them to recover from the devastation and I attended to my little siblings while my mother and fathere were busy with their businesses. But during those times, I managed to study a vocational course as I planned to work abroad, to pursue my dreams. My father got money and power and he became crueler to his family. He was like a leader and we were his soldiers. Those who will commit mistakes will be punished by his law. When my four-year-old youngest brother threw a tantrum and cried so hard, my father got irritated and put a leash on him, and placed him inside the rice sack to stop him from crying. I was terrified and didn't know what to do to help my brother. I was a weak *Ate* (elder sister) and wasn't able to save my brother until my mother came and took him out from the sack, then a feud arose between her and my father. Sometimes he will shout at us, "*magtrabaho kayo*!" (Get back to work!) like a boss shouting to his employees to work harder. He had his own business, as well as my mother, and I was the one managing our house and attending to my little siblings. All of us were like his followers, his laborers, and he's not treating us as his children anymore, he forgot that we were his family, not his employees. Then in my mind, I was cursing him, *"I hope one day, your money will be robbed so you will give more value to your family!"* One day he was too mad, and I heard him shouting at my mother. I always pitied my mother for allowing him to hurt her, not physically, but verbally. I asked my sister what was happening in the living area, she said that our father was hurting our mother. My blood boils inside me and I pulled out some courage to face him. "*Just do anything to us but not to my mother,"* I shouted in my mind. I ran to our living room and shouted at him, "*just kill us, you're not a father anymore!"* He became madder because of what I have said. Then he took out his gun as if he wanted to kill me. My mother was crying already and it's when I realized that I made a mistake. I ran to my room and locked it, shut all the windows, and made sure that he can not go inside. Inside my room, I expressed and shouted out all my hatred and emotions against him, the grudge I've been holding for too long. I spilled them all while he was outside banging the door and windows. I shouted everything at him and I cried until he left the place, until there was silence outside. At night I decided to pack my things despite my mother's request to stay, then the next day I left home. And my new life and new journey begin. I found a job and continue my life away from my family, away from my father. But during the first month, I was not at ease, as I was always thinking about my family at home, my mother, and my little siblings. But I became used to it and accepted my faith in living alone. But seemed like satan heard my curse as my father's business started to go broke when I eloped from home. He lost his money in just a matter of few months. Until my grandfather died and I had no choice but to go back home and face him. When our eyes met, I felt some changes. He wasn't a monster anymore and I saw some regrets and sadness in his eyes. Whatever happened when I was away, I guess, it made him realize all his mistakes as a father. And I just told myself, "*let the time heal the wounds."* He learned how to control his temper, he broke all the rules and gave freedom to his children, no more leashes, and seldomly throw some profanity and harsh words. He has changed for good. And sometimes, during the silent hours, I'm contemplating the past and I realize that all his harsh words and negative treatment shape me into who I am today, strong and independent. He may have been a bad father in the past, but what matters is he has changed and trying to be a father again. And no matter what he did, he's still my father, and I am in this world because of him.

To all fathers out there, Happy Father's Day 😊 Thanks for your time.

$1.47

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