Perhaps it was because he had first candidly shared his own family history.
I felt it wasn't so difficult to open up anymore.
I hesitated, then said:
"My mom passed away, and my dad, like yours, has cut off relations."
That year, Mom's funeral was held.
Many people came, a sea of black.
The officiant delivered a long eulogy.
I couldn't understand it all, my mind wandering midway.
A butterfly flew into the memorial hall, landing on Mom's portrait.
As its wings fluttered, that photo of Mom seemed to come alive.
I saw Mom smiling at me, and I smiled back.
The next second, Dad slapped me to the ground.
He roared, "Your mom is dead! How can you still smile!"
Everyone stared at me like I was some kind of monster.
I burst into tears.
He slapped me again.
"I'm not even crying! What are you crying for!"
"Cry again, and I'll throw you out! I don't want you anymore!"
In that moment, I was terrified.