So my parents had been divorced since I could remember
and the only times I remember them being together
was when they would fight about something.
In fact,
it got so bad, my mom resorted to calling the cops and after that,
I wouldn’t see my dad for months or even years.
One of the few good memories that I have with my dad
is sitting down to watch "Cow and Chicken" and "Johnny Bravo."
Honestly, I love those times.
I never had anyone else to watch cartoons with and laugh like he would
at the silly jokes
and even the dirty ones that I didn’t really understand half of the time.
I never questioned why my parents had gotten divorced.
All I knew was that they didn’t get along.
I would often blame my mom for not taking me to see him,
but as I grew up, I started to realize that my dad
wasn’t exactly the hero I imagined him to be.
I remember my older sister telling me that
my dad used to have a drinking problem
and neither my mom or dad could keep a job
and they would get into these huge arguments
where they would start throwing things,
things would get smashed
and they would even sometimes put holes in the walls.
And sometimes it would get so bad
that would end up my dad physically restraining my mom
while someone had to call the cops.
And this became a vicious cycle
that turned us into a broken family.
When I got a little older,
I would visit my dad at his house
where he lived with his sister and other family members.
I remember it was always filled with smoke
and was unkempt and very very messy.
It was barely a house if it didn't have any walls and a roof.
Everyone there, including my dad, was on drugs
and they wasted their lives away watching movies 24/7.
They weren't exactly responsible adults.
Most of them never worked a day in their life
and they would be late on their bills.
Every time I was over at my dad's house,
he'd make me these kinds of
big promises like
we would go fixing an old go-kart that layed in the back of his yard.
It's cliche, I know, but it's true.
But things like that never happened.
Despite all of this,
none of it really mattered to me
because I got to be with my dad,
even if it wasn't in the best situation.
My dad was muscular, strong, funny,
and I loved being around him
because to me,
he was like Goku from Dragonball Z.
I know it sounds crazy,
but I would literally have these daydreams
in which we would actually be Goku and Gohan
as a pair beating up the bad guys,
and yeah, I know, I'm a weeb.
But as I grew older,
I realized that my dad wasn’t very much like Goku at all
and I began to realize that my daydreams of fighting bad guys with my dad,
was only just that,
daydreams.
When I was around 12 years old,
I was living with my older sister
because my mom was literally unable to take care of me,
let alone herself, due to her own bad habits.
And around that time, my dad
ended up coming to live with me and my sister
where she tried to take care of him
and take him away from his destructive habits.
Which she was actually successful for a while
and he was sober for around a year.
But eventually,
he went back to his old ways
and my sister had no other choice but to kick him out.
I remember being so angry at him
and I threw away nearly everything he had given me.
I was so mad.
I felt frustrated
and I felt hurt,
but once again,
I knew that he would walked out of the door
and I wouldn't see him for a really long time.
You know, I consider myself blessed
for not turning out like either one of my parents,
and
when I was 21 years old,
I ended up moving out of my sister's house
and I got married.
I was beginning a different chapter in my life
and as things were picking up in a positive way,
but out of the blue,
I got a call from my dad.
I remember his voice sounding so bad on the phone
and I struggled to fight back the tears,
they were welling up in my eyes
and I could barely even get a word out.
Now that I was older,
I was starting to realize that my dad wasn’t Goku,
or Superman, or any kind of superhero.
He was just a man who hadn’t been there for his kids.
But for whatever reason,
I still loved him.
I wanted desperately to have a connection,
you know, a father-son relationship,
something normal.
I managed to tell him that I needed to have a serious talk
and I didn’t want him to joke around
or pretend like everything was fine,
like he did most of the time.
So once again,
I went back to that horrible smoke-filled house that he was still living in
after all these years,
fully intent on telling him exactly how I felt
and how much I resented him
for not trying to be a better dad.
At the very least, I just wanted to know why.
But, when I arrived,
he made me feel really bad for him.
I could already tell from looking at him, but
he began telling me about his Arthritis and how he had other health issues.
And in the end, I ended up holding back thinking,
“what’s the point?"
and instead, I made the effort to spend some more time together,
but once again,
he didn't keep his word and I was left feeling stupid
and
I came to the realization that
he was never gonna change.
As if it couldn't get any worse,
a few years past,
my sister told me that my dad had been diagnosed with cancer
and he was struggling to survive.
I felt terrible after hearing the news
and I wasn't really sure what to think.
Even though my dad wasn't much of a parent,
he was still my dad.
We ended up taking him to all of his hospital visits
and we made him as comfortable as we could.
As his health got worse,
we thought that one day he would apologize or
you know, come to some magical epiphany
and he would tell us that he's sorry and that
he could have been a better father, but instead,
he just pretended that everything was fine,
when it was literally the opposite.
I so badly wanted to talk to him about how I felt,
but after seeing how bad his health got and
what kind of shape that he was in, I just couldn’t bring it up.
At the end of it all, my father didn't make it.
The night he passed, I remember rushing out
of work and I headed straight to the hospital, but
by the time I got there, he was already gone.
My sister and I held each other tight
and we cried really really hard next to him
and it just really hurt
knowing that I lost my father and
to be honest, I never really had a father.
And look,
I know there’s no handbook in becoming the perfect mother
or the perfect father
and I don't think any child really expects them to be that way.
All we ever actually wanted from him was to make an effort
and you know, to live to his potential
and show that he cared for us.
And what I've learned from this,
is that being a good parent isn't about just watching Cow and Chicken
or Johnny Bravo with your child,
but,
it's supporting your child,
emotionally.
You gotta give time to them,
and being the best possible example a parent can be,
so eventually they can go on
and do the same with their children.