Just 2 days ago, I was so stressed out as my parents, after 31 years of marriage, made the decision to (finally) part ways. This was not easy in the eyes of a 31-year-old only child, but I let it be as I am too old to be taking sides. I maintained a neutral stand on the matter but promised my Mom that I'd support whatever decision she would make TO THE LAST LETTER. Moving back, Friday before this incident happened, I had my usual Skype chat with my niece, who happens to be my only 101% confidant. I don't know what grimness wrapped us both that day and I cannot anymore remember why, of all topics, we discussed my father's physical abuse on me when I was a kid. I was teary-eyed while chatting, as I related to my niece my most unforgettable beat-up day: It was a rainy afternoon. Merienda was ready -- purefoods hotdogs, tasty bread, and Anchor butter. That was summer after finishing 3rd grade (I was 9). That afternoon, no water was running from the faucet so we were skimping on...