I got married at 30, with nothing to my name. My wife’s family wasn’t well off either; there was only her father—Mr. Velasco—almost 70, frail, quiet, living on a veteran’s pension.
Immediately after the wedding, he moved in with my wife and me and stayed with us until his last day.
For 20 years, he didn’t contribute a single peso toward electricity, water, food, or medicine. He didn’t take care of the grandchildren, didn’t cook, and didn’t clean. Some even called him a “first-class parasite.”
I got annoyed sometimes, but then I thought, “He’s an old man, my father-in-law; if I complain, who will take care of him?
” So I kept quiet. But honestly, I often felt resentful inside.
Sometimes I would come home tired from work, open the empty refrigerator, and see him calmly sipping coffee as if it had nothing to do with him.
Then, one day, he passed away, and I thought that was the end of it… He passed away peacefully at 89.
No serious illness, no hospital stays.
That morning, my wife brought him atole and discovered he was no longer breathing. I didn’t feel much emotion, partly because he was old, partly because… I had grown accustomed to his presence like a shadow in the house.
Continued on next page//
