Rule No. 1 of friends: No sharing of secrets.
But in every rule, there is an exception.
Not that I’m being a bad friend, but I asked her permission. The story was heart-breaking, and I felt the urge to share it with everyone else. She said okay, as she also believed that her story can, hopefully, change someone else’s life. And under the condition of confidentiality, as she doesn’t want to expose the people involved.
First, I’ll give you a background about my friend. She was my friend for the longest time. She was there whenever I need her: for fun, when I’m depressed, food trips and other simple things. I consider her my true and best mortal friend. I hope she considers me the same.
I’m aware of her personal problems because she says it, but most of the time, just the gist. She doesn’t go into details that much, and because of that, I seldom understood what she wanted to say. I always tell her that, but she insisted on just going over her problems. She said it was okay if I don’t really get what she says, as long as I’m there to listen.
The foundation of our friendship was time. Like I told you, I was friends with her ever since I can remember. During our childhood days, we would play Barbie dolls. During high school, I would tell her about my crushes, failed math exams, and basically just how my everyday life went. Now that we’re in college, I tell her about my insights in life—the more serious ones. How the poor are oppressed, my belief in God, my academic frustrations—everything. Or not.
I’m sorry the introduction went too long. I’ll tell you now her story.
Looking from the outside, she had a perfect family. Her parents have been happily married for 25 years. She has three other siblings. She was the third (just like me). They had what they need, even their own house. Most of the time, they even had more.
Her parents both worked to support their family. On weekday mornings, no one is left on their house. All four of them were in school, and their parents at work. Then, their eldest was in high school, the one older than my friend and she was in gradeschool, while the youngest was in preparatory.
They had a maid to look after them.
That was a long time ago.
Today, the eldest three are in college. The eldest will be graduating from graduate school. The second eldest will also graduate, obtaining her bachelor’s degree. My friend is a college sophomore (we’re batch mates) and the youngest in eighth grade.
Her mother opted to be a housewife after she underwent a major operation last year. Now, only the father supports them.
My friend was not close with her parents. Her parents were not the type who would ask you how your day went, etc, etc. At least for my friend. She doesn’t know about her other siblings.
Now, she could feel how empty her heart had been because of that.
Not even her parents realized that there was something missing. The hole, just like the one in the ozone layer, got bigger and bigger as time passed by.
It was only her who realized that there was a hole in their so-called perfect family.
Don’t get me wrong. They were okay. They were happy. But they were close? Do they actually know one another? Or are they just strangers living in the same house?
My friend thinks so, too.
Her father once told her, “in every family there is always a black sheep.” You know, the rebellious one, etc, etc. And her father did not hesitate to tell her that he thinks it was her second-eldest sister.
I asked myself, was that really how a parent should treat his/her child? To just accept that one of them is the “black sheep” and just get over it?
I’m not yet a parent (far from being one) but I don’t think so.
Nor I am putting the blame on my friend’s parents. I can understand how they got so preoccupied with work that they forgot that their children also need parents. They forgot that their children need a “home.”
No wonder, the four of them started to go on different paths, but with one thing in common: numb.
There was no warmth in their house. All family members are present, but they were just wasn’t there. Sometimes where they are transforms into a nice, happy home, but sometimes, it’s just plain infrastructure.
It’s sad. It’s painful.
A month after my her second eldest sister celebrated her birthday, my friend gave her a late gift. It was a silver necklace with a cross as pendant. She placed it inside one of those cutesy stationery envelopes, with a short letter in it.
Being thoughtful to one another has been awkward for the four siblings, so my friend just left it on her sister’s room.
The next day, her mother told her that she found her sister crying.
My friend told me that she wrote on the letter everything that she suppressed for a long time. She said sorry, I love you and all those kinds of things in between. My friend found out that for sometime, her sister had been lying to them about her whereabouts. She also entertained boyfriends without their knowing. It wasn’t drugs, it wasn’t alcohol, but lies. Lies became her sister’s vices.
Her sister who was called the “black sheep” by their own father.
Apparently, her sister locked herself in her room. My friend and her mother talked about their problems over dinner. Finally, my friend said, I managed to open their eyes that our family needs some stitching.
Her mother told her about her conversation with her sister: addressing problems, giving advices, providing answers. At last, my friend thought, my sister felt a motherly mother.
My friend thought everything was fine. Until her mother mimicked some of her words (that were meant for her sister), and told her, “you have a lot of sentiments.”
My friend was hurt, not because of the mimicking but because of the word “sentiment.” She told herself, if not for those sentiments, you would’ve known that your very own daughter feels bad in this family.
Yes, she has a lot of sentiments, but she wants those to be constructive.
And yet her mother talked to her like that. Cold, numb. Just how they were taught, growing up.
Another don’t-get-me-wrong: my friend loves her mother very much. It’s just that, she realized that her very own mother was just as cold as how they’ve been.
I will end my friend’s story. I wanted to cry after hearing her, and made me assess my relationship with other people in general. Had I been colder that December night?
Not everything you see in face value is as it is. Sometimes, behind what you think as perfection lies a huge hole that needed to be filled. #
Random Thoughts 