Still estranged from my child. He had texted the usual precise “Hi, hope you are doin fine” twice in a year — obviously for the mere heck of it. Other than that, nothing. No visit, no show of concern, no birthday nor sincere holiday greeting.
Ah yes, he sent a brief letter via text msg enumerating his misdeeds and trespasses from way way back to unload from his conscience. No apology though. And I wondered what his purpose truly was for sending such a missive.
Nobody reads my blog anymore. I, however, still see Philippines on my stats and I suspect it’s him because he has always known this blog was set up for the two of us.
Once again I can say with confidence I have done my very best for my child. That’s the reason my conscience is clear. That’s the reason I didn’t shed too much tears over losing him. Because my son actually owes me an apology.
When his father left us, I took all the responsibility of raising him, with nary any help from anyone, literally. I had no maid to help me take care of him. I worked my ass off for the money that would financially sustain the expenses of raising a child. I practically did it all.
No, I wasn’t perfect. I made mistakes. I confess I had laid a hand on him — which was wrong: my only real transgression as a mother. I had thought it was okay because my parents especially my own mother, who was bipolar and mentally unstable, had done the same to me. I did feel guilty every time. And I begged for my child’s forgiveness throughout the years.
On the whole, I know I’ve been a good mother. People around us believe so. I showered him with love and might have spoiled him enough he turned into a brat. I also have to take into account the blood of my ex-husband that runs strong in my son’s veins. How else could I have been so clueless I was raising a monster.
He was sore I spent money for myself when I traveled to Europe. My own money. Money he thinks shouldn’t have been spent and should have been simply kept in the bank… until when? Until the day I die? I begged for him to come with me which I’d be willing to pay for, because I wanted him to be with me in the fulfillment of a long-time dream. He refused.
In the almost three years he stayed away from me, I repeatedly got in touch with him, even went to his office four or five times, trying to make peace with him, offering my help if ever he needed it. He ignored me, dismissed me, and showed disrespect a number of times. Not different from the very midnight he left home, packing hurriedly and slamming the door so hard it woke me and several of our neighbors. No explanation, no goodbye.
I wrote him a letter late last year before I went to Norway. I handed it to him and told him if something happens to me, whatever is left will be his. I told him I love him and have done my very best for him. But he was rude and so full of himself as usual which made me cry.
Anyway, he and I know everything in that letter I wrote was true.
And still I ruminate as well on what an asshole and a monster he really is deep inside.