Fine – A Son’s Reply to his Dad’s Mistress

Sixteen years have passed since our father left us. We all had our share of struggles. We were young, but your children were younger. We grew up without a father.

Bygones.

When your only daughter sufferred from cancer, our father spent almost all of his money trying to save her. Very touching, and I commend him for that.

When I was thirteen years old and got a life threatening disease, I didn’t ask my ask my father  to send me to the best doctors or spend his money. I just needed my father to be there, even once. No, he sent me P500 because he has no time, no money, and stressed that he’s paying for my medical insurance. My mom’s friends visited me. Let’s not talk about how much other people reached out because that will degrade my father more than he already is.

You weren’t paying for my medical insurance. It was a privilege given by your company to subsidize the insurance of your children. No amount was deducted from your monthly salary. What you were paying for are your other children’s insurance, because they’re illegitimate, and would not qualify. I was confined for ten days. Not even a single call. He just wasn’t there.

Fine.

Eight years ago I found out that we will no longer inherit anything because he plans on saving it so that when he gets sick, he still has some to spend. He was 55 back then. He could have easily availed for a medical insurance that lapses after he’s 65 years of age, and thus he has 10 years of medical security. But no, he insists that he will not give anything. That wasn’t our money, anyway, I thought.

Fine.

In no more than a year’s time since that happened, he got you a three-storey manor, three cars, a block of apartments you can lease and a “pautangan” capital. So much for wise spending of savings. Millions of it. While we struggle on how to live on, work our asses off to support our family while you stroll with your driver in your car, flaunting some donya clothes and using that really nice looking pamaypay. You sure do know how to waste ’em. But I really got to praise you for finding a way to transfer my dad’s money to your brother’s name. That way, it’s no longer conjugal. How you talked my dad to believing you is not impressive. Not all geniuses are smart. He became stupid when he left off with you.

 Fine.

When he got Alzheimer’s, he was sent off to the States to be treated. According to his siblings, he looked frail and pathetic. Strange that they were able to notice that our dad gleams with delight upon seeing food and would eat like a bear. Strange, that in only 5 days, he looked noticeably stronger,  and got healthier. I can’t help but thinking how he got back to his old self in just a short time that he was under someone else’s care.

Now several days ago, you my dad is ready for confinement over illnesses that only God knows. And you’re asking for money…from us, who were abandoned…who were denied of our rights, because he needed to save the money for times like these, remember? Do I dare ask what happened to the cars, the manor, the apartment, and your really nice business?

 

And you say you’re sorry?

 

Sure you are. I just wish that you reach heaven an hour before the devil finds out you’re already dead. I am dying to send you to hell, but it looks like you already live there. But I wanna give you something–my middle finger.

After all that you’ve done, give me one good reason why I should believe that whatever money you take from us, you will spend it for what it’s intended for. You may have deceived my relatives, but not me.

But because my dad “paid” for my insurance, I’ll enroll him in mine I guess. And I’ll give P500 additional, too. So there’s no way for you to swindle our measly savings. And he will be taken care of. And most of all, to break even.

 

Oh, yeah. F*ck you.