Then, she showed what my dad saved over the years. Only a couple of cards were in his drawer. One of them, I'd painted the cover with acrylics, and the inside, I'd photocopied a poem titled, "I am a cab driver". I had a flash of the time when I was about 12 or 13, and I saw some of our gifts to him, most notably a piggy bank I'd made with an old Nestle's Quik can wrapped in baby blue construction paper and a white strip saying "Happy Father's Day" on it, sticking out of the trash can. "Your Father isn't sentimental at all" mom says. She mentioned how she had this paint set that she cherished, only to find out that dad had carelessly thrown it out, breaking her heart doing so. Sometimes I see that my dad makes an effort at things, but all I hear is my mother's depression. She's a domesticated person, loves being married, a mother and a wife, but it hurts to know that she's not happy sometimes. Makes me especially mad at dad sometimes too. I love him, but sometimes as absent-minded as he can be, his cluelessness about my mom's feelings seems heartless.

What do I do? Yell at him so he can tell me how he came all the way from Jamaica to help her raise me, and now I'm being ungratefull? My mom is such a wonderful person, and my dad doesn't appreciate her. He has no idea how he makes her feel. My mind is churning on ideas to put a smile on her face. It should be his job, but....