[caption id="attachment_8077" align="alignleft" width="352"]
Credit: FlickrCC/Yanis[/caption]
Editor's note: the commentator’s name has been withheld to protect his privacy.
When I was nine, my father started coming home late at night. He would walk through the door like nothing was wrong. But I knew something was. My mother would shout uncontrollably at him, and even threaten divorce. But these were empty words - my mother couldn’t afford to get a divorce, nor was it socially acceptable in Chinese culture.
I later learned that because of him, my mother’s bank account was cancelled, and all her hard-earned money was gambled away at the horse races.
This is the image I’ve had of my father for the past eight years. And in the personal statement essay I wrote for college, I focused on him as gambler -- the source of my shame and resentment, and the cause of my mother’s anxiety.
Now, he is the source of my guilt. Every time I reread my personal statement, I can’t help but feel a pang of regret. I had given an entirely one-sided portrayal of my dad and let his gambling issues blind me from seeing his hard work and self-sacrifice.
His love had always been there; I was just missing the signs.
Though my dad wasn’t the best chef, every Sunday for lunch he took the time to prepare a healthy home-cooked meal instead of ordering some greasy take-out from down the street.
When he was working at a factory, he switched to a graveyard shift just so he could drive me and my siblings to and from school.
And -- during my busy junior year of high school, when I was regularly pulling all-nighters, he would make me a cup of chamomile tea and tell me to go to bed.
Instead of thanking him, I criticized his cooking, blamed him for driving too slow, and accused him of trying to sabotage my grades.
Looking back I see that my father tried his best to take care of me in spite of his obsessive gambling problems. I realize that being a father is like juggling -- personal problems in one hand, and familial responsibility in the other.
It’s not easy forgiving a parent when they’ve caused so much hurt, but I’m going to try.
Credit: FlickrCC/Yanis[/caption]
Editor's note: the commentator’s name has been withheld to protect his privacy.
When I was nine, my father started coming home late at night. He would walk through the door like nothing was wrong. But I knew something was. My mother would shout uncontrollably at him, and even threaten divorce. But these were empty words - my mother couldn’t afford to get a divorce, nor was it socially acceptable in Chinese culture.
I later learned that because of him, my mother’s bank account was cancelled, and all her hard-earned money was gambled away at the horse races.
This is the image I’ve had of my father for the past eight years. And in the personal statement essay I wrote for college, I focused on him as gambler -- the source of my shame and resentment, and the cause of my mother’s anxiety.
Now, he is the source of my guilt. Every time I reread my personal statement, I can’t help but feel a pang of regret. I had given an entirely one-sided portrayal of my dad and let his gambling issues blind me from seeing his hard work and self-sacrifice.
His love had always been there; I was just missing the signs.
Though my dad wasn’t the best chef, every Sunday for lunch he took the time to prepare a healthy home-cooked meal instead of ordering some greasy take-out from down the street.
When he was working at a factory, he switched to a graveyard shift just so he could drive me and my siblings to and from school.
And -- during my busy junior year of high school, when I was regularly pulling all-nighters, he would make me a cup of chamomile tea and tell me to go to bed.
Instead of thanking him, I criticized his cooking, blamed him for driving too slow, and accused him of trying to sabotage my grades.
Looking back I see that my father tried his best to take care of me in spite of his obsessive gambling problems. I realize that being a father is like juggling -- personal problems in one hand, and familial responsibility in the other.
It’s not easy forgiving a parent when they’ve caused so much hurt, but I’m going to try. Support the Next Generation of Content Creators
Invest in the diverse voices that will shape and lead the future of journalism and art.
donate now
Support the Next Generation of Content Creators
Invest in the diverse voices that will shape and lead the future of journalism and art.
donate now