He doesn’t need me to pay him, but I can’t die without leaving him anything.”
I froze, tears welling up, though I didn’t understand why. It turned out he wasn’t poor at all. That land was ancestral property, which he had kept completely secret, never saying a word about it.
The savings account was money he had accumulated throughout his life from his pension and government benefits, with compound interest, untouched by a single peso. He chose to bequeath it to me, whom he once considered a “parasite,” whom he even wished would move away. That night, I sat alone in front of his altar, lighting an incense stick.
Looking at his smiling photo, I whispered:
“I was wrong, Father…”
“All your life, you lived in silence, letting no one owe you anything, not even the one who once considered you a burden.”
