Unfortunately, our accommodation situation isn’t the best...meaning we are staying with my Uncle P. I feel so numb when it comes to him. Now that things have come out, everyone is telling him how we were wronged. All of a sudden, he says he is going to “help” us. But to be honest, it’s a bunch of bullshit. What he says to my sister and I has nothing to do about my Dad. It is about him. My Dad called my Uncle, and told him to come and see him; my Dad felt the presences of death coming near. And you know what? My Uncle didn’t go. When my sister and I first arrived to the Philippines and when we saw him, Uncle P didn’t ask how we were, and didn’t check in with us. All he could do was talk about how he couldn’t see my Dad because he was really sick, too. To be honest, I think it’s a bunch of bullshit. If Evelyn was sick and told me to see her, even if I was sick, I would go. I would go and see my sister. She is my only sister. That’s love. My Uncle knows nothing about what love is. He continues to try and make my Dad lose face.
Yesterday morning, when we went to his hospital we were greeted by his Administrative person, saying your Uncle is waiting for you in the conference room. Really! Then he brings us upstairs. What the hell, am I back home going to a Board Meeting. When my sister and I arrive up there, we are sitting at this table…my sister, me, my Uncle Julio (who my Dad’s other brother, and is the most loving person), his wife, my Uncle P, and his Administrative Assistant. My Uncle P is pretty much the only person talking. He begins to say things like, "You know your Dad didn’t come to my hospital because he couldn’t afford it?" Hmm…really? My Dad was retired United States Navy and has the best health care. He had access to the veterans Hospital here. Then he says, "You know your Dad told me, I’m not as rich as you, P. I used all my money for my daughter’s educations." Hmm…really? My Dad was rich in so many ways. He had a beautiful home in San Diego, has two successful educated daughters (who earned their way, and weren’t handed anything on a silver platter like a cousin I know); he was loved and respected by his community and extended family in San Diego, and the list just can go on and on. As I sat in that room, I thought to myself, what the hell is this about? Not to mention, why in the hell is the Administrative person part of this conversation? We don’t even know him. This is just another example of the Mickey Mouse charades my Uncle continues to play. And I continue to lose respect for him. Not that I had any to begin with. What kind of brother are you, I ask myself. My Uncle has some major issues. I feel like he continues to tell lies, lies in which he believes, because again it’s about him. I feel like he needs these lies, to avoid the fact that he feels a lot of guilt.