“In every sense she was the perfect mom. She always tried to encourage me when I was younger. I was really shy, so she always worried about me being alone. She would ask things like: ‘Have you met anyone at school?’ or ‘Does anyone like the same things you do?’ She always knew when something was wrong. I never had to tell her anything. But Dad was the opposite. He ignored me. He never did anything wrong. He wasn’t an alcoholic. He wasn’t violent. He was just nothing—like a chair or a piece of furniture. His only idea of fatherhood was going to work. He never reacted to anything in my life. Not the good things, or the bad things. He didn’t react to me staying out late. He didn’t react when I experimented with drugs and alcohol. I made my mom very sad by trying to get my dad’s attention. A few years ago I got hit by a car. When I woke up from my coma, I called home to tell my parents what happened. My father answered the phone. I told him everything. All he said was: ‘Your mother is asleep right now. You can call her tomorrow.’ That hurt me worse than being hit by the car.” (Santiago, Chile)
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