Sometimes life’s issues can get the better of us, depleting us of all energies of wanting to move on and forward. And most of all having us question ourselves and our faith and making us face fears we never would have thought of.  They say only the strong survive.  And this is so true.  Stay strong and continue on letting your failures be your encouragement, never to give up!

I remember when I was little the very few times there was laughter and joy in my house there was a song my father use to play from one of his 8-track cassettes on the stereo and his car.  A song that lyrics said, “You got bad luck yeah that’s what you got.  That’s what you got.” A song sang by Teddy Pendergrass when he was in the group Harold and the Blue Notes.  My father loved that song because he felt it was his life story.  And looking back now it was his anthem.  My father seemed to suffer more trials and tribulations.  Not in this particular order, but my father had a wife my mother who cheated on him all the time.  He could not seem to get a good job.  And he was always working more than one job.  And because he had a hot temper he lost a lot of jobs.  My father sank his problems in a bottle.  I never known my father to cheat on my mom, but I can tell you this he and my mother fought and argued all the time and their fights were nothing nice at all.  They were always bloody and no one walked away with out an injury.  The one thing I could not understand was why neither of them would leave the house or the marriage.  Why my mother tortured my father and stayed and then would get brutal beatings from him.

 

Now my mother was what some would call a social butterfly.  She was all over the place all of the time.  She was always at one of the neighbors houses.  And I am not speaking of down or across the street. I am speaking in and around our neighborhood literally!  My mother had her coffee with someone every morning.  And she also had sex with some man in or around the neighborhood as well.  My mother went drinking sometimes not all the time at the local bars in the afternoon with a lover.  It was like my mother had no decorum at all or even pride.  If she met the mailman, UPS, cashier at a grocery store, truck driver or a man driving down the street she flirted got the number and met up with him.  She was always very well taken care of and by all the men she slept with. My mother had clothes, shoes, trips, went to the salon, and when it wasn’t as popular as it is now.  She got her manicures and pedicures and massages.  This angered my father because he felt he should be doing all of this and he couldn’t.  So my mom did what was best for her, or so she thought.  She was going to get it one way or the other! And if my father beat her to a bloody pulp or left bruises or black eyes.  One of her lovers was sure to come and beat my father! It was indeed a vicious cycle and circle. My mother was a drop dead gorgeous woman.  Her hair long thick and wavy naturally.  Deep hazel eyes with naturally long eye lashes that didn’t need mascara.  But if she wore it, it enhanced her long lashes.  She had cinnamon toast clear flawless skin!  My mother had a beautiful smile and my mother was a mixture of so much I really forgot all the cultures that ran through her blood.  And I also wondered if my mother came from a family that was so well to do, why did she marry my father? And why did she torture him so by flaunting all of her affairs and the things her lovers bought her in my dads face?

 

My oldest brother or shall I say step brother from my dads first marriage lived with us.  My father had his first son when he was fifteen. (My father had married his son’s mother when he and she turned sixteen)  And I came into the world when my older brother was twenty.  We of course were never close at all.  And my brother didn’t move out of the house until I was ten years old and he was thirty!! This was another thing that tore a wedge in our family’s lives.  Due to fact that when my dad married my mother she was eighteen and my father was twenty-six.  Not that my father was that much older than my mother.  But as time goes on and moves forward seven years is a huge stretch.  Matter of fact as soon as my mother got me potty trained she was dropping me off to baby sitters and my grandparents home.  And from my understanding my dad didn’t know about this for years.  The fact that I was dropped off and my mother was not at home with me. My father tried to do any and everything he possibly could to keep my mother home and make her happy.  But this was not enough, my mother came from a very well to do family and she was very privileged.  It was when my mother married my father was when she was cut off from the money.  Now my grandparents of course loved me and my mom.  And they did things for me they just didn’t give my mother money.  So my mother knew how to get it. And that was through the many men she met already knew and very rich men she would meet. My mother nor did anyone else reveal why she married my father.  I believe it is safe to say that she was cut off from finances from her parents because she married a low-life like my father.  And it is also safe to say that my grandparents did not like my father and would not come around him at all or deal with his family members at all!!

 

My father went into debt buying clothes and cars but lights and gas were cut off a lot.  And eviction notices were always on our door.  My father could never afford a house. So we could only stay in apartments or rented houses only.  Also the fact that my brother stayed in the house was an issue.  He was close to my mothers age and was a very disrespectful to our dad and hit on my mother all the time.  My brother was many things and far from a saint.  He was mean and cruel to me always plotted on me and bullied me.  My mother when she heard or saw how he treated me never let him get away with it.  She would tear him a new one.  And when my father came home from work she told him about it and he would go off.  See our father didn’t want him there anyways.  He had to live with us because he was found by child welfare in the house with no food and no heat in the dead cold of winter.  To this day no one he has seen heard or know where his mother is.  Now why did my father not put my brother out when he turned eighteen or even got older?  Who knows?  My father was aware that my brother made sexual advances towards my mother his wife and he hated it and my brother did it to taunt my father and my mom.  Those were the fights that rocked the house!!! My father and brother would go at it!! Yet and still he would not put him out and this grieved my mother and myself.  My brother had some deep rooted issues of course not being loved by his mother and my mother not being mean to him, I mean she took care of him.  But my father really didn’t have money to take care of his wife let alone his son.  And I was always well groomed, my clothes were I guess one could say designer.  My grandparents gave me everything I could ever want or need.  And of course my mother got her clothes, furs, shoes, jewelry and money from her suitors.  So that meant nothing for my dad or my brother.  My oldest brother was a two bit hustler and he loved to gamble, smoke weed, and do some hardcore drugs here and there.  And when he tried the hardcore stuff he came home and acted up where my mother would pack us up something quick and we would have to literally sneak out of the house.  And this would cause another huge mess because when my father got home they fought and tore up the house and the police were called all the time. 

 

And now that you know all of what is going on with all the other people in my house.  Now I can honestly tell you about me.  Maybe I am the messed up one of them all! I cannot say that I have ever felt love from my father.  From the time that I can remember my father has never hugged me, cooked or even made a sandwich for me.  Never sat down and watched TV, played games with me, came to any games or anything that I was in at school.  To me my father was just a person that lived in the house.  My father wasn’t cruel to me, but he never spoke to me.  I felt that my father saw me as another mouth to feed and someone in the way. Like I wasn’t wanted. 

 

Now not only did my brother bully me and hit on me.  He did a lot of cruel things as well.  One time he had put itching powder in my bed, dead fish, jell-o and baby oil.  Or at least I think it was baby oil.  He one time gave me a bad haircut in my sleep and when I looked in the mirror before going to school I screamed with my mother running in the bathroom screaming with me.  I believe my father only yelled at my step-brother because it upset my mother and my father was a slave do or die for her all the time.  Even with her cheating ways.  Of course this is why my dad drank so much.

 

My mother loved me; I can say that she truly did.  She read to me, hugged me, kissed me and supported me on any and everything I had done.  She was the only one.  There were a few times she missed some games or some recitals.  But she would some how make up for it.  No she wasn’t perfect at all and I was very aware of her cheating, I mean I went out with her sometimes when she went out in her dates or met up with her men.  Now my mom was far from a saint when it came to dealing with my father or me at times.  But I loved her and she along my grandparents was where I felt and received loved. 

 

Now as I was growing up in my youth there was a neighbor that my mom had left me with, I will call her “Sue” and Sue was a rambunctious teenager that in my opinion was on the fast track to what I will call hell!  Me being a young boy of ten at the time at first loved going over to her house.  She always played games with me and we would watch movies and talk and laugh.  But then it went all awry, Sue had begun to “teach” me about the birds and the bees.  She had all these interesting conversations with me about sex.  And then I was her sexual conquest.  All of this confusing to me, after a couple of times of being made to give her sexual favors and her do the same with me I had reported it to my mom who went crazy and called the police on her.  And that is when I now went over to my grandparent’s home only!

 

When my step-brother had broken my arm on purpose this is when my mother had had enough and packed up our things and left my dad for good.  She was twenty-seven and I was eleven at the time.  My father was thirty-three and looking much older than he was.  And drinking his self into comas at night.  At this time the physical fights had calmed down significantly but the arguments were still a ready occurrence.  My step- brother was nineteen at the time.  And yes he was hitting on my mom since he was a very young man of thirteen.  My brother or at times I called him my step-brother when he made me angry.  Well he was six feet when he turned fourteen and was very well built from him lifting weights and playing ball in the gym or at the park.  And from what I knew my step-brother had been having sex with older girls and later young women the older he got. So of course my step-brother being cocky and good looking felt he could have anyone he wanted including my mother!! And I know now he did that out of anger and hate for my dad.  Of course he had no respect for our father at all.

 

When my mother left my father was devastated, but he knew he could not come to my grandparent’s home or the police would be called.  I was immediately transferred out of school and now attending a private school.  And my grandparents immediately got a lawyer and started divorce proceedings against my dad.  And also filed charges against my step brother who was arrested and went to jail.  It was in trial that my father was able to see my mother, her parents and myself.  My mother of course testified that he had abused or tortured me many of times before and she had spoke to my father about it many times.  She spoke on how long she stayed in the marriage and was abused and the many times utilities were cut off and eviction notices placed on the door.  My father was not called as a witness because my step-brother didn’t want him to testify on his behalf.  And neither did my brother speak ill of my mother.  Matter of fact he didn’t testify nor did he argue the fact that he was abusive to me at all.  I guess he was afraid that my mother would speak on the fact that he had come on to her many of times physically.  As we all sat there and my mother recalled incident after incident stating that, “I could no longer take it.  You can beat on me but the abuse of my child in this manner had awakened me and I left!”  My grandparents were very sharp people and they had an excellent lawyer who pulled up every record when the police were called, hospital records and records of every time we had gotten evicted.  Records of my father being fired and him being pulled over and going to jail and being booked on DUI’S.  It was bananas.  The lawyer had also pulled up the school records of my step-brother constantly being in trouble and his arrest records.  Unfortunately for my step-brother he was on probation and had been in and out of juvenile court.  Though those records had been sealed when he had turned eighteen and the judge really couldn’t use that against him.  My brother had way established new crimes when he had turned eighteen.  Amongst also impregnating three WOMEN who were thirty, Twenty-six and twenty-nine and I am sure these women had no idea of how old my step-brother really was.  So because of all the drama and being on probation my step-brother got four years which was told that he would receive if he came back into a court room.  Of course my grandparents weren’t that happy with the call but they accepted he would be behind bars.  And when I looked over at my father, he looked defeated.

 

Living with my grandparents had a lot of advantages.  Honestly I liked being in a private school while others loathed it.  My mother was now in good graces so she was now given money, cars and much more.  She had begun to slow down and take better care of herself. She ate better, worked out and we spent a lot more time together. It seemed as if over the months my mother and I were on a new road a better life that was enriched.  And then it happened after living with my grandparents for a year there was a huge fallout between my mother and her mom.  My grandmother wanted my mother to date a very famous and rich man that was a lot older than my father.  My grandmother wanted my mother to be well off and paid.  That is what she was concerned about money, always money with her.  Which I didn’t really learn until I got much older hence my mother always chasing men with money.  And to my surprise my mother was totally against it.  I believe she was in love with another man, a regular guy who knew nothing of her sorted past and he wasn’t rich.  But he was financially stable.

 

So my grandmother gave my mother a week to move out of the house.  My grandfather wasn’t happy about this decision my grandmother had made.  So he secretly moved my mother and me into a small home not far away from where they lived.  Paid for my schooling for the remaining of the school year.  And helped my mother and me until she got on her feet.  Mind you my mother was now close to thirty and had never ever worked a job!! So she decided to go back to school to become a nurse which my grandfather was proud.  And my grandmother and mother had stopped speaking to one another.  And I was no longer welcome in the house which I found silly and crazy.  This was my mother who said I could not go over there, not my grandmother but because they were both stubborn.  No one seemed to let go. 

 

Two years went by and now thirteen and feeling a little normalcy in my life.  My mother earning her AS and now married to my step-father Greg Chance.  Things seemed to be okay as far as I was concerned.  My mother and grandmother were still not speaking and against my grandmothers wishes my grandfather was still helping my mother.  This actually was money that he had put away for her anyways.  My mothers trust fund.  So she had plenty of money that was unused and had a load of interest on it.   Mind you my grandmother had no idea of where we lived or if I was still going to the same private school.  Nor did she know that my mother had gotten remarried which she would have probably crapped in herself if she did know.

 

My mother had to find out the hard way with a lot in life but it seems that this was the life we were destined to have in my opinion. Then the unthinkable happens! My father finds out where we live and that my mother has been remarried! My father had kidnapped me and brought me to his house and locked me up in a bedroom for three days.  He passed food and water to me and I had a bathroom a joined to the bedroom.  I had a TV and that was it.  And I had even seen the news to where I was being looked for it was a huge man hunt. My grandparents were very influential and as I said before were very well off.  But there was nothing I could do! After three days my father had let me out of the room and let me sit in the living room to watch TV and even go into the kitchen to fix my own food still not saying anything to me the whole time and neither did I speak to him. I dared not to try and escape because of what I knew of my fathers temper, wrath and anger.  I tested him not in the least.  I just wanted to know what was his plan, why had he done this?  And then it became clear.

 

My brother was soon getting out of jail and my father was broke and trying to get a ransom for me.  But after a week had passed by and nothing had transpired, meaning that my father did not know how to get the money without being caught he blindfolded me and dropped me off down the street from my grandparent’s home and this was the first time I had seen my grandmother in years.  I told everyone I never saw the man who kidnapped me and I was not harmed sexually or physically.  Everyone was just so happy to see that I was okay and that I was alive!

 

Two weeks later though my grandparents had been brutally murdered in their home! It was a truly sad day for all of us.  And it was my mother who had discovered the ghastly scene.  She had been calling her mother (they were now speaking) and no answer.  She kept calling my grandfather and no answer! So she goes over there and knocks and knocks on the door and no answer seeing that both cars were at the house.  Using her key that she still had and never gave back she went inside yelling and calling their names.  My mother said this is when panic set in.  She could feel something was wrong, so she slowly walked upstairs and that is when she saw it.  Her parents my grandparents lying in bed on their backs arms crossed over their chest and they had a bullet hole in their forehead and had knives in their chest sticking out plunged in their hearts.  My mother screamed and yelled and ran outside with the neighbors all coming out of their homes trying to calm her down and figure out what was wrong.  The police were called and of course no one heard or seen anything suspicious.  It was like whoever killed my grandparents had snuck in like a thief in the night and snuck out the same way. Later in the investigation there were no finger prints, hair samples, feet print or any DNA in the house except my grandparents.  I t was as if they had wore plastic suits and plastic shoes with no soles.  It was guessed or assumed that the killers could have done just that and wore socks with plastic underneath their feet.  My grandparents were beaten and my grandmother and father were sodomized with foreign objects. And was acid poured over their private parts.  Whoever had done this made sure they tortured my grandparents after they had died.  This was not done while they were alive.  And the gunshots to their head were done by a silencer!

 

I had my opinion in all of this but of course I was just a kid to most, but far from dumb.  And I think that my mother knew to.  My father and step-brother were responsible for their murders.  My step-brother had gotten out of jail or prison two weeks before they had died. And I knew for a fact that my step-brother and father were very bitter! 

 

My mother had now had a second child and she had finished up four years of school.  Now having her BS, she was officially a nurse!  My mother no longer wanted the house she grew up in, so she donated the furniture to charities and sold the house and the cars my parents had drove.  It really didn’t matter what the wills had stated my mother was the only living air of my grandparents.  And I am sure the attorneys over their estate nor their insurance company wanted to make a big mess over it because this story headlined in the news and stayed in the news for weeks all over the world. 

 

My mother was now very antsy and also was now overly protective when it came to my little sister and I.  Fearing that anything could happen to us at anytime so when my parents and I stopped calling my step dad just that but dad because that is what he was to me.  We had now moved into a sub-division that had armed security at the guard shack and you couldn’t get in unless you were on a list.  Also there were armed security guards that patrolled the sub division.  These men were moonlighting because they were actually police officers.  My mother had ADT security alarms on the house and of course we all knew the codes.  My baby sister didn’t of course because she was still a baby. Here I was fifteen going on sixteen and my life changed for the worse all over again!  I took it very hard that my grandparents were murdered just as my mother and father did.  I was still holding on now to my garbage it seemed that was piling up in my life.  I really quite hadn’t gotten over what my “real” sperm donor father had done.  And I told my mother who had really kidnapped me.  And she replied, “I knew it was him all the time.  I just didn’t know where he was living or working.  I knew all the time he would bring you home.” We almost went there with stating who killed her parents.  But we both seemed to stop in mid sentence.

 

My mother would not let me go anywhere unless she or my dad went.  It was hard to just go over and be “normal” and play video games and even go to the pool or gym that was on the property of the house located inside the sub division.  Dating, driving, hanging out, and getting something to eat none of that I could do.  And this made me grow very bitter! I would sneak out of the house and go do the things I missed out on from my mother keeping guard over me like a truant officer.  My dad knew that this was getting way out of hand and had spoke to my mother a few times about it seeing my frustration and she blew up at him yelling and screaming.  So he had to let it go.  But me, noooo I was now a loose cannon!  I was getting in trouble in school, I would run away and I did silly stupid stuff nothing major.  That is until I asked my dad if I could be sent away.  And he agreed that it would be for the best. So I was sent to live in a boarding school for boys of course there being a girl’s school not far away.  Which worked for me very well here I was able to be me and pull my grades up and live a semi normal life away from my mother!! It seemed as if my mother was losing it in some way or another.  I mean I understood that her parents were brutally murdered and all and she was paranoid.  But my mother now had an over active mind and my heart went out to my father because he now had to deal with my mother.

 

I was excited to be away feeling independent.  However at night my nightmares had come to me in full flourishing.  I had night sweats and I not only dreamt of the many ways they were murdered my grandparents; I dreamt of the molestation, the kidnapping the way my father had beaten my mother and the torture that I had gotten from my step-brother.  It all wore heavy upon me.  And I didn’t realize that it had it seemed to also be in my thoughts in my awake hours.  I fought hard not to be angry a lot of times.  Most times I had to walk away from situations and conversations I felt were going to turn into arguments.  It was already stated that fighting led to expulsion from the school and there were no exceptions! A lot of the boys would still fight.  They just did it off campus and met up somewhere.  I was so afraid of getting into trouble and not doing the right thing.  I had more breathing room and activities at school than I did at home.  School dances, football, basketball and I joined as many clubs as I could that allowed me to travel with the school for various tournaments and functions.  If I went home I would be a prisoner in our house.  That I would not be able to stand in my life at all!! And I didn’t want that of course I had two more years of school, well high school that is and I would be free to venture off into the world and make a life for myself.  And I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do as of yet. 

 

My mom and dad had started to come to visit me with my baby sister in tow.  She was growing up so fast and was the spitting image of my mother! It was like she was reincarnated somehow! My parents were oh so proud of me and they showed it by making sure I had the latest in everything. I was a tech head!  And I could take apart anything and put it back together as well as fix anything electronic no problem! My father said that I had a gift and to continue to learn as much as I could and build on that.  It all came easy to me because it was a hobby and not something I had to do.

 

My last year of high school I was told that my father had died, not me step dad who I considered to be my real father but my sperm donor.  He was found in his house with no clothes on he had shot himself in the head.  He was forty-four years old. And as I stated before my step-brother didn’t move out of the house until he was thirty.  He was lazy and when he got out of jail he went straight back home with our dad.  Where he tortured our father.  He berated him, stole from him and threw parties at the house all the time.  This was really women and men lying up at the house all the time.  He ate all of his food and didn’t buy any.  He would throw tantrum fits and break up my dads TV’s, stereos not thinking that if he broke a TV he couldn’t watch either.  But because my brother was now a master thief he would go and steal one or have one of the many girlfriends he had buy him one.  He would put holes in the wall and there were a couple of times my step-brother had jumped on our dad.  This was their normal routine.  My father never called the police on him and I would find out why later.

 

For whatever reason my father chose to take his life when my step-brother moved out.  From my knowledge he had never gotten remarried nor even had a girlfriend.  But he had managed to get a really good job paying good money and he held on to it.  Maybe just maybe being and marrying my mother was the worse thing for him.  But being without her was the best thing for him.  He didn’t get evicted from the home he had gotten in after my step-brother had gone to jail.  From what I heard it was a really nice home in a nice area.  Something my father never acquired when he and my mom were together.  But now he is dead, and when my mother called and told me I didn’t cry, I wasn’t hurt, I didn’t feel anything.  It was like someone had told me that someone I had never met had died and all you can say is my condolences to you. I don’t even believe my mother took it hard I feel she just told me out of courtesy.  My mother told me that she would not be attending the funeral and I knew why. And neither would I, I knew nothing or had any wonderful feelings of the man.  He never in my whole life spoke one word to me in my whole life.  Can you imagine not having your own parent or blood relative not saying anything?  Not even “Move you’re in my way” if my father saw me in a bathroom, room kitchen he would just walk out.  So no I wasn’t going to his funeral!  Not counting the many times he beat my mother.  The only time he took up for me was when my mother said his son was picking on me.

 

Now after the dust had settled we had gotten word or should I say my mother was called and asked to come into the detective’s office.  And there was when she was told it was my step-brother that had murdered my grandparents.  Something we had already knew.  My sperm donor had left a letter when he had committed suicide all the details of the murder.  And my step-brother was not alone, he had an accomplice and my father had given the name up.  He also said that he was very sorry for all he had done and how he had treated me and that he was not a good father at all.  Well it was late by then.  My father was cremated because his own family no one knew where they lived and tried to reach out.  But if no one claims a body in eight days it gets burned.  And my mother and I as bad as it sounds really could have cared less. But we were happy he had left the note.  Almost three years had gone by and still no clues.  But just as the detective had said, that it was like the person or persons that had murdered my grandparents took extra precautions in not being caught. It seems that the guy that was in cahoots with was only in it for robbing my grandparents. Of course he had planned on killing them, but because they were not able to get any money this is what caused them to do beat them and sodomize them and leave the knife in the heart.  The detective stated that the reason for that was because he felt my mother had stabbed him in his heart because he was in love with her.  And that he loved me to. Really?  Wow I hate to see what real love is really like. And this guy who was his accomplice had a notorious record.  But he was indeed a smooth criminal.  Too much CSI and detective programs and movies that this man watched in the perfect way to get away with a crime.  Until my sperm donor had told he would have never been caught. My father said he had killed himself because he could no longer live with the guilt. He said in his letter he doubted very seriously if there was any evidence left behind because they were very careful.  But he explained in full detail how they were killed and how they were able to get in the home.  What time the murder occurred and many other small details of the crime. Of course my mother and I were happy to hear this news. 

 

Life seemed as if it had so many ups and downs for me, like was there anymore bad news or good news that was once bad good for me.  There were so many times I wanted to hurt someone from the way I was hurting deep on the inside.

 

Graduation came and went and though my family made a big hoopla over it. I wasn’t feeling it or life.  I was sad in so many ways it was pure ridiculous! When I left school I didn’t go home I went on a trip to a southern state in a very small town and started in on my destructive behavior.  I rented a trailer and I drank, drugged and partied with the locals.  I even slept around with more than a few of the girls there.  I did this for about two months and just as I came there I left.  I went home to my parent’s house so that I could figure out what it was I really wanted to do with my life.  Like so many I went to school with seemed to know what they wanted to do I couldn’t and didn’t know at all. When I made it back home there seemed to be more pain there. 

 

My father had left my mom.  It seems as if her depression and her bouts of anger had driven him away.  I had seen my mother look as if death had warmed over her.  She was unkempt and that was far from the woman I have known her to be. My baby sister was now seven years old and seemed like a wild child.  She missed our father a lot.  I had managed to speak to him and he told me how he had tried and tried to get my mother help.  That there were too many times that she had torn the house up and broke up things.  And there were so many things he had to replace. He said he would only come back if she got help.  I didn’t blame him one bit because he was a good man and a very good father and provider.  My mother had gotten so bad that even before my father had left the house my mother wouldn’t even let him take my baby sister to the park or anywhere for that matter.  Married now for almost ten years it had come to this.  And they had already caught and found my step-brother and his friend who was the accomplice in murdering her parents.  They admitted to the murders. And just as my mother needed help so did I, we had experienced and gone through so much. My mother looked like a crazy woman and so did my sister who needed to get out of the house and live a “normal” life.  My father had told me that my mother ordered supplies and food online to be delivered to the house.  Or she sent him.  He had begun to feel like a prisoner in the house.  She would panic if he ran late call his cell phone back to back asking where he was and if he was okay.  She would beg him not to go anywhere and leave her. The house was spick and span because all my mother could do was clean.  She had quit her job and wanted my father to do the same so that they would be “safe” It was summer so my sister wasn’t in school but wanted to go play with friends and go outside.  And she was told no. It was now my job to call the police, the hospital whoever I could to force my mother into a hospital.  She was no longer capable of taking care of herself or anyone for that manner.  My father couldn’t do it, says he didn’t have the heart to do it.  I am glad he didn’t, but since I was in the sticks with no phone or cell phone let alone told anyone where I was.  I had no idea of the situation.  It had gotten extremely worse when I graduated it was already bad when I was in school my dad just didn’t want to worry me.  And my mother was putting on a front.

 

I had stayed up all night contemplating my decision of making the call to have my mother put away.  And my first mind was leaning to making that call.  Her erratic behavior and talking out of nowhere making no sense had convinced me and it was the hardest thing I had to do.  I had called my dad and told him the decision I had made. And that of he could would he come back and move in the house to take care of my sister.  Of course I would help. My father had agreed.  And yes I was up alllll night no sleep, no food no rest for a weary mind.  I was feeling hopeless and really felt I was doing the wrong thing by my mother but I knew she could not go on like this and neither could my sister. 

 

I called 911 on my mother stating that she was under mental duress and needed help ASAP.  I described all the things she was doing and saying.  My mother was running herself ragged minute by minute!  And right when I called or shall I say decided to make the call my mother seemed to have gone off on a tan gem.  I called my father and asked could he come to the house right now.  I didn’t want the police to manhandle her at all, and I wanted them to handle her with care I knew I would not be able to see my mother be hauled away.  I hadn’t cried in years! I really don’t remember crying that much in my life.  But I broke down crying I took my sister upstairs and tried to calm her down.  My father had a lot of work to do when it came to her and so did I.  She was a wild child, like some wild animal in cased in a cage.  She was the reason why I did it.

 

When the ambulance and police came I couldn’t watch my mother be taken away.  I went straight to my old room and I turned my stereo on and turned the volume up.  I got my sister and I told her we had to dance and dance all of our blues away.  After today things would change, things would get better.  And mommy was going to the hospital because she was sick.  My sister’s response was, “Good she needs medicine and help” In the midst of the storm her words gave me peace and let me know I had done the right thing.  So we danced and we sang, and I cried.  And my little sister laughed and laughed.

 

I didn’t want my father telling me what had happened when they came and took my mother away.  The next morning I had a long talk with my sister and we spoke on so many things her actions the things she said and how she was acting.  That now that was over, she had to act like a well mannered young girl my father spoke to her as well. As soon as we had that long talk and this is when our lives had begun to change. 

 

My father had stepped back in and had begun to pull all the pieces together, was it easy?  Oh by far it was not!! My sister had her moments when she acted up and pulled a few temper tantrums.  But we kept her in different activities, and she had play time, and she loved dance class and cheerleading.  We kept her busy but no too busy where she felt overwhelmed.  I on the other hand went on to college taking my pre-requisites I had no idea of what I really wanted to do.  And it was hard on me going to see my mother in a mental institution.  It seems she got worse and worse.  So after three months I only visited her once a month.  Because she would reenact when her parents were killed, something dreadful happening to my sister, she screamed and yelled and spoke to imaginary people.  She was gone and life was over and that was that for her.

 

My father on the other hand made sure that he saw her twice a month.  And he stayed strong but I could tell that it tore him up on the inside. And seeing him like that tore me up as well.  It was hard on the both of us for the first six months and then it was like out of nowhere we had just got into a routine both being role models for my little sister.  She seemed to get better as time went on and had started to understand a bit more the condition of our mother.  She had her moments when she would miss our mother. 

 

Here it was now I was alone and feeling depressed about so much and trying to hold on.  I felt as if my life was in the toilet and how and why did I have to go through so much?  Why was I the chosen one to see and feel so much anxiety? So much pain?  I had begun to question my life and I finally asked God does he really love me? If I was his child why would he have not looked out for me? I was angry real angry with God and I needed answers, because as far as I was concerned the Devil seemed to have love for me because he made sure I had a lot of problems.

 

A year had come and gone and I had finished all of my pre-req classes for college and yet I still didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.  I was grateful that I had a wonderful man in my life that loved and cared for me. And just like that my prayer was answered! God told me that he had given every man a free will, and that it was others who were not as strong as I was.  My mother, but HHe had given me my grandparents.  And when he knew how much it meant for me to have an earthly father, he had given me a father that had truly loved me.  And when I thought I didn’t have love my earthly mother was there for me all this time loving me but I had to see that she was a wonderful person who deserved more than what she was getting and had to build her self esteem.  And when she was ready finally ready He had sent my dad.  He had also given me a sister who loved and adored me. I had smiled and had joy, I was there he loved me after all.  And with all the bad things that had happened to my mother, father, grandparents all those people did not live on without being punished because he told me he had punished them for hurting my family and myself.

 

I was just coming home from picking up my sister and the house phone rang and startled me.  It was rare that it had rung because we all had cell phones but my father was insistent that we keep a house phone and not change the number.  We of course gave this number to everyone, however it rarely rang but my father used it the most.  He had started an office cleaning service which was doing very well.  I was so proud of him.

 

“Hello”

“Hey there!” My eyes instantly watered, my stomach had butterflies in it and they jumped around like crazy. It was my mother!

“Mom?  I had to say it is that you?”  She laughed.

“Yes it is!  How is my baby?” I laughed wiping tears from my eyes.

“I’m fine.  You sound great!  I…ummm...”  She laughed.
“I am good.  I am doing very good. I will be coming home soon. Real soon.  Your father told me he didn’t tell you because he wanted me to tell you.” I then began to feel guilt I hadn’t gone to visit my mother in the past four months.  I had started back, but when I did I felt that same hurt and pain all over again and felt it was just better that I believed for her healing no matter what.  But I wrote her letters every week that were read by my father when he saw her. I was so caught up with school, part time job and my sister that and the little bit of date life I had.  Plus I was getting more and more understanding of who God was.  I had never had a belief in God at all my mother didn’t mention his name in our house unless it was asking for his help in relief from my blood father to stop beating her.  “God please make him stop!”

“I don’t know what to say, it feels crazy hearing your voice mama.”  I had begun to let the whimpers take over my voice. I didn’t care at this point.

“We will talk soon, I am starved and your father is here to take me to lunch.  I will see you soon.  I love you!” 

“I love you too!”

 

Little did I know my father was picking my mother up and not only taking her to lunch but shopping and a mini make-over to help her feel better.  She had been in the hospital for almost two years.  They don’t do your hair and nails in that type of facility.  But when my mother walked in the door my sister and I were happy!! We hugged and cried and spoke no words for a good twenty minutes.  She had lost some weight, but my mother looked great!! She smelled good and her smile lit up the room!  She had a glow over her face she had seemed to be transfixed in some way. 

 

I thought that God was and wasn’t listening to my prayers.  So many times I did get discouraged and I hurt and wanted to give up.  But so many more prayers were answered.  Throughout my journey I still think of all the hurt and pain.  The many ups and downs.  And I know that it is far from over, I stumble and fall so much.  And to this day I still believe that the devil does love me!  Loves to see me hurt and go through trials and tribulations.  Well I thank you for listening I know it seemed as if I wasn’t going to ever shut up right?  But I must go and read some before my wife and young daughter come home.  I wish you peace….

 

 

Afterword

 

I have honestly felt that there were many times I was alone and there was no one who had my BACK.  And so many things that I have had personal issues with in this life.  I have been homeless, sexually abused, verbally and emotionally abused and have had some physical abuse as a child and couldn’t see the fairness in it all.  However I have been blessed and given so much and many talents and many doors have been opened.  I ask that you continue on your journey and fight the good fight!  Don’t obstruct your injustices by doing wrong to others because you are hurt, in the end it all comes together and it does work out for your good.  Peace and love to you!

 

“Just Toy
Written Expressions     

12/2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kobo Inc.

Make a free website with Yola