We tried everything possible to make his life normal. He studied in a very good school. He tried to study hard and behave very well. Nevertheless, society had a hard time accepting him.
When I was sick and by myself at home I would think, “What exactly is the purpose in this. What are you doing? You’re still alone. You still have nobody in your life. You still have that void. So what you’re searching for is ...
“You’re going to end up like your father, a bum on the street, a loser, an alcoholic.” As a kid, growing up hearing those things hurt me. I thought, “Man, after everything I do for you, this is how you love me.”
I could tell him things I couldn’t tell my friends. I later learned that’s what women who are abused do. They keep it a secret. Well, everything in my life was a secret anyway.
I couldn’t understand, from the civil war and being exposed to dead bodies, abuse, and suffering, from being in shelters and then coming to America thinking “finally”.