I was born in Puerto rico to a hostile, domineering drunk father. I was
raised hard-core Roman Catholic. He was a disciplinarian, an authoritarian
father. I did as he said, no questions about it.
    My mother was the typical submissive Latina woman, she did little to
prevent his outrages and did little to condemn him for them. I was beaten
regularly when i was a child, all the way up until the age of fourteen. He
lost his temper easily, and little could provoke him.
    When i was fifteen I came out to him as gay. It was a disaster. He kicked
me out of the house. Actually he threatened to kill me and I left in the
middle of the night. I moved in with a friend, then another and finally to
the lest best friend who's family was willing to keep me until I graduated
highschool. I called home rarely, to avoid his thundering voice. I missed my
mother and my sister, but neither did anything to stop his behavior. I needed
to survive, even if it meant risking my family.
    I left for California after graduating from high school. I came back to a
house without my father. I called home once and told my mother she would
never see me again if he didn't leave permanently, because I knew he was
still abusing my mother and sister. I came back from the state of beaches and
sun to find only my sister and mother at home. I never spoke to him again. I
never saw him again either. He had used the last four hundred dollars I had
in my savings account to buy his air fare out of my life. I was eighteen.
    I came back home and applied to come to Ithaca College. My father died, I
saw him in a coffin, and I felt sorry for him. he gave and received no love
from anyone. But because of the traumatic experiences, I have grown closer to
my mother than ever. My sister....well, that is another long, long story. But
at least one good thing came out of many bad ones. My mother's unconditional
love. After my father left, she rebuilt her life nd decided to dedicate it to
helping others, and to loving her children no matter what. We have a strong
bond, and I don;t know what I would do without her. Granted, many years went
by of resentment, but time heals. Time heals.