I'm a product of a broken family, my parents separated when I was 4 years old.
My father cheated on my mother when she was confined for almost a month in the hospital due to complications of bronchopneumonia. My mom wondered why my father seldom visited her. She heard from somebody that my father was already living together with another woman from his workplace. My father was a radio-broadcaster. My mom fought to recover from sickness and become healthy.
A few days my mom was discharged, she surprised my father to the radio station and met a woman (she was the mistress). My mom pretended to be my father’s relative from their province. My father wasn’t around because he went to our house. When he noticed my mother wasn’t there, he asked my grandma (my mom’s mother). Her answer was my mom went to his work place. My father was shocked and nervous for his secret was revealed. He went to his office, and my mother confronted him. She decided to leave my father.
My parents never got married because of my father’s ego. He didn’t have a regular job back then so they decided to live together because he refused my mother’s family to spend for their wedding.
Back then, I wasn’t aware what a broken family meant. My father continued supporting me financially for my needs and studies. As I grew up, I realized that my family is not complete; I feel that something was not enough. If I saw some family together with their complete parents I felt jealous, I asked God why my life is like this?
My father’s mistress already had two children from her previous relationship. I found out that my father changed their last name to my father’s last name. They studied in a private school while I'm studied in a public school. I feel jealous and hatred to them and to my father. I studied hard. I want to show to my father and proved to him that even if I'm in a public school, I had high grades and one of the top students. Even I'm in a broken family, it never affected my grades because I didn’t want to show to people (including my parents) that I was affected but the truth is I was. I feel hatred; I feel jealous to my father’s new family; I wanted to shout!
So I tried to use drugs but I only did it a few times. I stopped because I knew it was wrong. I was thinking what if I died, would those close to me feel regret? Would my father regret of having another women? If I went to jail, would my father realized what he had done?
My father is a journalist in our town in philippines since 1986-2003. He worked in different radio stations. He become famous in our town, even tagged as the number 1 radio broadcaster there. He was famous. Carrying his name, I was somehow known in school to be as fierce and fearless as my father.
He helped anyone who came to his working place to ask for solutions to their problems. He entered politics in 1998 and became a local politician in our town for three years.
Because of his fearless radio commentaries, he received a death threats, but he was never bothered. Once, he got ambushed when his on the way his house after his radio program. The driver got a shot on his head(left side) and the bullet went near his brain while my father got wounded on his nape. When I received that news early morning we rushed to go to hospital with my mom, I cried because I didn’t want to lost my father even I have hatred with him. He underwent an operation, they brought him in the ICU after. He recovered after a few days.
On the first semester of 4th year in college, my father told me that he can't afford to support my studies anymore. So I decided to stop schooling and find a job in Manila because that time my cousin ask my mom to go there with her. My teacher regretted that why I stoped because only 1 semester left for me to graduate and I was in the Dean’s List that time. I couldn’t take a part time job because I would have a full load on the final semester.
On 2002, when I was already in Manila, I saw the news that my father got ambushed for a second time. It was not as serious as the first. On a Friday afternoon on September 2003, my father called me for the first time since I went to Manila because I sent him messages the moment I learned he enrolled his mistress’ children (not his own) to school when he should had supported my last semester in college so I can graduate. I refused to answer his call, but I took it anyway acting like I wasn’t angry at him. We laughed together then the conversation ended.
The following evening, I received a message from my relatives. My hands shook, I was in shock. My mom asked what happened to me, what was the message and who sent it. I thought it was a big joke. I told my mom while I was shaking in tears, “Papa got ambushed and dead on arrival”.
I couldn’t accept it for I had thousand of questions to ask him, a lot of things I need to confront and settle with him. The hatred in my heart was replaced with regret. We were not close with each other. I had so much to say to him that I should’ve said when he was still alive.
After mourning his death, I moved on to the next chapter of my life. I entered into a relationship and got pregnant. I left my partner because he was a cheater. I took care of our son alone. My salary was not enough so I decided to work abroad.
In abroad, I met a man who accepted me and my past. We build a family together until we have seven children, three are triplets ( six boys and finally, our youngest, a girl). I take care of them all by myself. It was hard, and I thought I couldn’t do it, but I told myself nothing is impossible for a mother.
Back when I only had two sons, we had a Chinese-Malaysian neighbours. We became close to the point that they would invite my first son with them when they go out and shop. Even after we moved, they still visit us and borrow my son. They were family to us.
After my son’s 4th birthday they asked permission to bring him out station to attend a wedding. Because my son have part of the entourage, we allowed it. After the wedding they gave all kinds of reason why they took so long in out station until they blocked me in social media maybe they don't want me to see where they went. I asked them why they blocked me, they reasoned their accounts were hacked. I still doubted because I know they are addicted in using social media. The only thing we can connect is thru their hand phone but they also keep on changing number until I can't take it anymore.
I fought with them via sending messages because they use somebody’s account(according to them), they threatend me that they will send my son to the welfare because we don't have documents. I said go ahead, his father is a Malaysian, still he can take back.
They threatened me that I am not yet married with my husband. I didn’t have a visa so I cannot married legally or I can marry but cannot be registered. My children ended up without birth certificates. We can only get birth certificates or apply for it if our marriage is registered. I don't care if I go back to my home town with my children but my husband don't want us to leave that's why he never lodge a report because my documents are not complete.
Because of that, I had to suffer in silence and accept the pain of take not seeing my son. I quietly cry in the middle of the night, I miss my son so much. I don't know where he is right now, I want to do something but I don't know how. My heart is crashed into pieces without my son beside me.I keep on dreaming about him and I wake up from the dream crying.
If I can turn back time, I shouldn't have trusted those neighbors I thought were family. I shouldn't have allowed to borrow my son. But unfortunately it already happened. That’s why now I never allow anyone to borrow my kids or either to trust anyone fully.
I'm still praying and hoping that all the problems I'm facing right now will be solved, I'm hoping one day I can take back my son after being taken away from me for 4 years now away. I’m hoping that he still can recognize me.
Being a mother if your children are not complete beside you, it's like your life is empty or your day is not unfulfilled. I have a total of eight children. My firstborn son from my previous relationship stays with my mother in Philippines. My first son from my husband now is missing.
It breaks my heart that everyday, every minute or second, I don't even know where my missing son goes. We know who abducted my son but we can't do anything to do a report because my documents are not yet done, in short I'm considered illegally overstaying in this country.
It's been 4yrs that I never seen my son, I want to give up but I still have my kid's who depend on me and need me.
There are times I question God why I face this kind of situations; why I am part of a broken family, why my father was killed, where is our justice, but the most painful of all, why my son is taken from me. Why me?
At the end of the day, for the sake of my remaining children who are with me, I need to be strong and have faith on Him, hoping that one day my missing son will come back to us. Keep on hoping, keep on fighting!