Absence Makes the Heart Grow Wronger

I can't recall the last time I saw my dad or heard his voice. Was it October or early November? What a shame, I admit. My dismal attempts have gone unanswered. Surprisingly, he too has not made an effort to contact me. What's going on?


I know of two assumptions that commonly pass through our minds when stretches of silence fall between us. If I don't hear from him, my assumption is that he's comfortable with the going-ons at home. There are no issues with the wife. For the most part, knowing that comforts me. If he doesn't hear from me, he would assume that I've been preoccupied with work and my own life. In that instance, he would choose (to my dissenting opinion) not to vie for my time or attention. After all, he squarely believes that the onus for outreach lies upon the child.


I would give him that if I obeyed the customs of our culture. But the wife's venom, spewed on that afternoon of June 25, 2009, still lingers in my spine. I'll never forget. A straw of misunderstanding occurred after my dad's cataract surgery. I brought him back to my apartment and made soup. As advised, he rested. Moments later, the wife called my cell to question his whereabouts. Though brief, she sounded utterly upset because no one called to update her. She felt neglected and disrespected is what I gathered. On our drive to his house, I suggested we apologize regardless of whether we felt at fault. As soon as we stepped through the doors, however, she unloaded the anger and hatred harbored for all the years of our acquaintance. My apathy quickly turned into raging grenades. As the shouting match continued to escalate, my father made faulty attempts at tempering her. It was as if he was trying to put out a wild fire with a hand held spray bottle. What started out as a favor turned into a severance of ties. I was told never to step foot in the house or the donut shop ever again. Period.


My relationship with the wife was never warm or natural to begin with. Let bygones be bygones. I'm realizing that my relationship with dad effectively changed from that point on. The days of my surprise drop-ins at the donut shop were gone. I avoid making calls if there was the slightest chance she would pick up. We had to make arrangements in order to see each other. It would never be on his turf. My door would always be open for him. My line would always welcome his calls. We've managed to make contact every other week or so.


Over a month has gone by without any exchange. Mom always asks about his well-being even though I offer the same guiltless excuse. Song often reminds me to call. I even set reminders for myself to no avail. Am I really trying or have I given up? Has my disappointment and resentment slyly taken over?