I will stop crying....

There are a few times in my life that I cry and today reminds me of many moments of the past.

It started simply enough with me having dinner at my parents and talking with my nephew who is trying really hard to convince me that he needs a cell phone at the age of twelve or not he might be a social out cast.

The conversation was interrupted with my father coming downstairs mad at my mother and nephew for what reason I do not know, but echoes of familiarity years ago when I lived at home. An angry man at his breaking point raising his voice and tone. This was a scene that I had seen years ago and had avoided for years. I was calm quiet and getting my nephew ready to leave to spend the night at my apartment. I asked my nephew to go ahead to the car as I was getting the rest of the things to leave.

My father was still mumbling to himself of things I have heard many times before and have tried to ignored. Then he began talking to me and I proceed to listen and planned to leave for the night right after. I had told myself to let it blow over and talk to him in the morning, but something in between his words and anger that made me mad and I responded as calm as I could. Somehow in between the words and conversation, tears began to come down my face and my voice broke. It was frustrating and sad to repeat the same conversation that we have had years ago when my parents were having trouble with my younger sister. It was not about her and it is not about my nephew but my father who feels inadequate and disrespected having to listen and talk to his wife and children about raising a child.

It is hard for my father to have lived here in this country, mowing people's lawn and being dependent on his wives and kids due to his language barrier after years of imprisonment Though, he had successfully had his landscaping business for years in California and bought his own house, he still feels like he have failed for losing "control" and "power" in his family. I understand his anger and frustration and on going struggle, but what I do not respect are his reactions and of which I have never forget. Though my father never laid a hand on me, it is his words and anger that carries the weight. I have begun to respect him more in the past months since I have been here trying to deal and live with a teenager. However, tonight brought me back to a night 3 years ago where I decided to take care of myself for myself. A night which I was longer silent and timid.

I had always felt guilty and indebted to my father for what he had gone through and done to get us to this country. However, I began to realized that voicing my opinion is not a defiant act but rather was good and necessary for myself and my family. The "power" and "control" that my father seek is for my mother, sisters, and I to be timid and weak, but instead he got and raised headstrong and independent women.

Thus, I will no longer shed a tear for my father and not for these repetitive conversations of self pity and destruction. I will seek for better ways of communicating with my father at least while I am here in Houston.....but not right now...