Little girls look up to their fathers like heroes. They treat them with utmost love and respect. Some even vow to marry men resembling their fathers.
I used to be that little girl.
Now I look at my dad and I come to realize that my childhood hero has fallen, defeated by his own self. I look at him and I find myself praying that I wouldn't end up with someone like him. I still love and respect him, though. But I'm afraid that it's starting to wither. Slowly. Like a dying rose, one petal at a time.
My mom is hurting so bad because of what my dad had done and is still doing. Many, many little things that may seem insignificant when taken individually but when summed up, can suggest that something's not quite right.
"I don't just think it. I know it coz I feel it.", she said.
And I believe her.
I wanted to hug her and tell her that I love her. That no matter what my dad says and does, she'll always have us, her kids. That if she wants to take some time away from him, I will understand. That I might even go with her. There were so many things that I wanted to tell her but the only words that came out of my mouth were: "Hayaan mo sha."
I'm sorry, mom. I wanna take away your pain but I dunno how.
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