Posts Tagged ‘humanity’

*Write about a moment in childhood when you suddenly caught a glimpse of the adult world.

(When my mom had cancer)

-she wore beautiful colorful bandanas
-she was so strong even when weak

She walked through the front door… For the first time in what felt like forever, I got to see her. The image of her weakness did not hide the strength hidden within her. The battle scars were out to show the world what she had endured and conquered. She wore the colorful bandana that covered what once sprouted thick dark brown locks and her body was now frail though just a year before, she could carry a child in each arm with one more pulling at her leg.
Standing on the carpeted blue steps just 10 feet away from the door, my ignorant seven year old legs shook. Was it excitement? Was it pain? Maybe they were eager to run up to her so I could hug her and never let go. What was stopping me? Frozen in my own mind, I could only think of how happy I was to see her. Though I was not told, maybe I knew deep down that what was only three days in the hospital, was almost a lifetime of loss. Almost a year of staying at my cousins house on and off and being taken care of by my dad yet nothing ever occurred to me farther than “mommy is sick.” Almost a year of doctors’ appointments and chemotherapy.
The welcome home banner above my head, decorated by family as what we treated as an art project, represented what was rather than what could have been. Pictures of rainbows, colorful houses and happy stick figures covered the grateful banner. The representation of returning strength and a future with her, rather than without. A future full of hope rather than loss of the most important woman in my life. The woman that took care of me when I was hurt or sick. The one that refused to leave my side when I needed her. That moment is drilled into my mind, will never be just a memory, but a reminder of what I have and what matters. A memory that drives me to hold on to what I have for as long as I can and to not take anyone for granted. A memory that once in a while shows itself to remind me of the moments that could have been lost if things would have been different.
I jump off the stairs and run to her. I have never let go since.

4/16/18

You awoke with anger, affection and blinding fear. You waged a battle between right and wrong as others tried to banish your soul. You cry in the shadows and smile under the sun. You do your best to balance my mind even through times of pain. The ache you encompass me in is at times confusing. It feels good or it renders me helpless. 

When I lash out, you bind my wrists and gag my mouth, but nothing can stop the tears from falling. The power you wield banishes the fury of my roar, muffles the sounds of ecstasy. two sounds which expose my weaknesses. 

Love, you know what I need even when I don’t. The fight between us is everlasting, raw and sometimes bloody. You’ve effectively groomed my rage, testing me, prodding my tender thoughts pushing my soul to experience raw life. 

During my stint in dire straits you forced me to fight against who I thought I was to become who I was supposed to be. Not an easy task when all I saw was a target placed over my heart. People not seeing inside was why I’d built the wall in the first place. In one second, in one diagnosis you slammed through my barriers and forced me to open. To ask for help and let others see all my vulnerabilities. I cowered at first. Rolled up into a ball like a fetus in my mother’s womb. Which is ironic since life had pushed me back to that place where I was helpless without others. Would have most likely died without their assistance.

Epiphany. Thank you, my love for showing me that you exist both inside and out. That you are more than the heart within me. You are an extension of those willing to become a part of me. To accept me. To take my hand and offer their strength when I feel I have none. 

Love is me returning the nurture, the power, the giving, the healing without expectation. To carry those in need to a safe place in their own hearts. Like me, you see it from where you stand. The journey across the tumultuous line is long but not far. I know. 

 

Sincerely,

M.E.

Hi. Welcome to four deaths and a fire. Not a chill place for my mind to be, but oh hell, we all have those moments. I am happy. The choices I’ve made in the past few years have helped with anger and grief. The last three months have fast forwarded my life progress by light years. My husband will argue that light years is a physical distance and not a measure in time, but I’m an author so… it’s okay.

Anyhow, It started with a request and ended with a death. Accurate summary. Doesn’t everything profound start with something simple? A decision you make now can change your life forever tomorrow. For some, Life begins.

Like childbirth or slamming your funny-bone (not everyone experiences childbirth), all beginnings are painful, out of our control and wrought with fear.  Yet somehow we grow into adults. Oh. I should mention. I was never child. By the time I became aware of living, my mind was thrust into a world of lies and deceit wrapped in the arms of an Italian mother. A mommy lifeline. Also known as a confusing long tether that, on occasion, left me adrift, swimming through confusion. Or, the cord was wrapped so tightly around my body it made it impossible to move or grow.

My mom was strong/weak. Powerful in her love for us children. Weak because she loved him, too. Her love for him became her downfall. She died. Do I blame him? Yes and no. Why, because I know right from wrong. He was the epitome of wrong. My mom died Twenty-one years ago. He died Three months ago. Funny thing… I cried as his life faded to nothing before my eyes. Cried like I did for my mom when she took her last breath.

Isn’t that interesting?

One day, after playing with my niece, my brother came to me with daunting news and a request. Dad was very sick and in the hospital and he wanted to see his children. He wanted to ask for forgiveness for being indifferent most of our lives. Hmmm. I’d already had closure about ten years ago. He came back into my life, against my personal wishes, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Another story. I’m good. Not the point. The moral of that story is you don’t deserve attention from him if your not dying anymore.

At that time, I gave him two rules of our relationship. One, he had to work at being a father. Two, if he left, that was it. He left. Guess I was wrong. That wasn’t it. When he called for us, I went. I literally said I forgave him during my first visit. He cried. By my next visit, he was back to being the angry, I hate the world man, that afterward claimed that oh, that’s all in the past, and I don’t wish people harm. My inner child smirked. I told him he really had to let go of his rage. On my third or fourth visit, I was alone with him and we had a two hour conversation in which he confessed some disturbing truths about himself. I believe it was the first time we ever had an honest conversation. Past chats included me telling him to leave at two different times, once when I was thirteen and another, I think I was seventeen, and on other occasions asking “who is she?”.

I’m pretty sure, as his illness progressed, the four of us visited every single day. We fought with the doctors on numerous occasions. We were losing another parent, and the tough years before didn’t matter.

He passed on April 9th 2018 as we stood around his bed. We sought comfort in each other and that was beautiful. Despite everything he did to tear us apart, the moment he took his last breath, we became a stronger healthier family.

Which is very fortunate… My father may have moved on, but his past is alive and well and we have been fighting to restore our legacy ever since. Crazy woman, poison ivy, a platoon of cats won’t stop us from achieving our goal. Putting to rest our past.

 

 

 

 

 

A ring shatters the night calm

Shakes the sanity from deep inside

I know who it’s about

My heart rushes up into my throat

Rushed words

Despite our distance

We speed to the hospital

You never came to us, but we run to you

Heart over mind

Love devouring anger

No time for the past

Later or never

We run to you after you ran away from us

Reasons be damned

Tears will fall either way

When we say goodbye

The tether between us, snaps

Pain

Good or bad

We are who we are

Discord is nothing new to me

The place I grew up a toddler’s finger painting called chaos

Innocence dragged through the mud

Hosed off and kissed on the forehead

Pretend that didn’t happen

At intervals it didn’t

Until

Innocence was stripped to the bone at thirteen

Came out of the womb with my hand raised in the air

I’ve been on to you from day one

So, you think I don’t see the lie?

Even though I love you

I won’t let your false tears pass my guard

My tears are real, but you’ll never understand them

Just like I don’t know you

You don’t know me

Never will

Your decisions are forgiven

because

To see you there

Frightened 

The child in you peering out through your eyes

My mind surrenders to my broken heart

No one should be alone

Not even you

Not now

“I am your father.” His body language turned sinister as he stepped forward, gripping the back of an old wooden chair. “You’re in my house,” he said through clenched teeth. “You will respect me.”

She stepped back off the step and engaged him with a hostile sneer. “You have no idea what that word means,” she said. “Come down here,” she shouted up the stairwell to the child that hid. “I’ll help get you out.”

“Get out of my house … now.” His saw-like voice ripped through the small space of the living-room, shaking the frightened child inside her.

She swallowed. “I’m not leaving without her.”

“Oh. You’re leaving alright, if I hafta throw your crazy ass out a window.” He lurched forward, taking off after her.

Lu bounded up the steps, taking three at a time, and then turned right, skidding to a halt in a large room with yellow paneling, rust-red carpeting, and two canopy beds. She turned as her father ran for the door. She shut it within an inch of his face. The wood trembled and cracked as he attacked the door. She jerked backward. Terror struck and she dropped down, scrambling backward to hide under the bed.

“You think he’ll get in?” asked a little boy lying by her side.

Lu blinked again and again, her mind trying to figure out where he’d come from.

“Who are you?” she asked. “Is there anyone else here?”

“No. Just me. It’s always just me. My name’s Johnny,” he whispered his eyes fixated on the bedroom door.

Lu swallowed the lump in her throat. “What are you doing here, Johnny?”

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes punching confusion deep into her chest. “Same thing you’re doing.” He looked at her more closely. “You’re an adult,” he said making it a statement. “Adults don’t get scared. Adults don’t hide under beds.”

“No. Not under beds,” she said her voice trailing off. “But don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here.”

“You can’t,” Johnny broke down, his chest heaving with despair. “Only he can, but he’s forgotten why he chose this path.”

Lu, stunned by the sudden maturity strengthening his tone, waited until she realized he’d finished talking. Everyone had lectured her about her choices and about the paths she chose. Another coincidence. No. Coincidences didn’t exist. Mia had said so and she believed her. What did this mean? Who was this child? Possibly a psychotic break within a nervous breakdown? And then she noticed the thickness of his lips and two large front teeth, and a sickening heat clutched her stomach.

“I’m stuck here,” he said, sounding defeated.

“You can’t give up,” she mumbled toying with the notion that this was her father at a younger age. Tears pooled in the little boy’s eyes, releasing a new flood of guilt in Lu that washed away years of old anger, leaving her drained. It couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t. What did it mean if it was? Lu searched the little boy’s face, her examination spotting a mostly healed inch-long, red cut on his forehead. It was in the same place and the same size as the one on her father’s forehead.

“Did you answer the phone when I called before?” She didn’t want him to say yes. Saying yes would mean too much. Hearing yes would knock her off the high horse she’d proudly ridden hard for most of her life.

He nodded and poof, the last leg of her belief crumpled.

“I’ve got to get out of here.” She made it halfway out from under the bed when little boy-sized sneakers stopped her.

“You’re going to leave too?” he asked, bending down to look at her face. “What is wrong with me?” He sniffled, wiping his nose on the back of a hand.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you.” And she meant it. At one point in her father’s life, he had been innocent—blissfully unaware of the cruelty that lurked beyond his awareness. Innocent like she’d once been. She scrambled the rest of the way out from under the bed and took his small hand.

She started when he jerked away from her. “Yes, there is!” he yelled, and then stamped to the door. “My mother hated me, my father couldn’t have cared less, and my brothers could do no wrong.”

“No————” Lu began, but the air thickened, choking the rest of what she wanted to say.

“Yes!” He screamed. “She let them hit me. Told them to.” He coughed. “Even after I was a man, my mother sent them to beat the crap out of me when she found out I visited an aunt she held a grudge against.”

“Wait … what?” Her thoughts warped and spun, spiraling down. “Who would do that?”

“You know who I am.” His voice deepened, smoothing out and becoming the voice she grew up hearing. “Don’t people react the same way to you when you tell our story? Your mother showed you love, gave you enough confidence to be independent, and that was not enough for you. Instead you followed in my footsteps.”

“Why do you hate me? Why did you cheat? What made you so angry all the time?” Her voice dipped and shrunk, no longer sounding like the strong woman she’d been just a few hours ago.

“You always asked me questions I didn’t want to answer. Or couldn’t.” He turned away, digging his tiny chin into his small chest. “A small portion of the truth would have made you hate me more. So, I lied. I couldn’t stop. What was the point of admitting I was too weak and damaged to change? Eventually, I believed the lies myself.”

No longer seeing the whimpering little boy, Lu forced the words building at the back of her throat though her lips. “You lied to keep doing it. You protected yourself. You blamed mom. You blamed me.”

“Lies veil the truths we strive to keep hidden,” he said. “Everyone protects the child that lives inside each of us. Some use violence to build walls, others logic, and so on and so on.” He paused, glaring at her. “I know you understand.” Hate distorted the boy’s innocent face.

Her nails pierced the flesh of her palms. “I don’t. I never lied to anyone.”

As he turned to face her, his limbs extended, his body thickened, his lush curly hair, thinned and whitened. His cheeks drooped and skin wrinkled. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. “See. You’re good at it. Helps get you through the day. Right?”

Lu struggled to get away. Away from the smell of oil and metal she’d always associated with him. Away from the tone that stripped her of maturity and strength. She shut her eyes tight. “Don’t touch me!” she yelled. “Never touch me.”

The fingers around her wrist shrank and weakened allowing her to pull away.

“Why does everyone hate me?” The little boy moaned in anguish.

“Because you make them,” she yelled, stamping around the room looking everywhere but at the whimpering boy.

“I can’t let people close. You understand?” He forced her to meet his soulful eyes. “You try to be good. Normal. Like everyone else, but you get beaten for it. Told you’re worthless until you hear it echoed every day in your head. You try harder to be good, but the abuse only gets worse.” He sat down and crisscrossed his legs. “You know what got my mother’s attention?”

Lu calmed as his agitation grew, circling him once before sitting down, crisscrossed, facing him. “Tell me.” She’d never wondered what made her father, what she considered cold and evil. She’d never cared. Until now. Maybe her life would make more sense if she knew his story.

“Hating people,” he continued. “Being better than our neighbors. If you didn’t agree, you were out. Blood didn’t matter. No one spoke against her. If you did, you became nothing. I fought for her attention for so long I became nothing before she made me nothing.”

I loved you,” Lu pleaded. She paused and said, “I love you.”

“No. You wanted things from me I couldn’t give you. Still can’t.”

She raked claws through the carpet. “I want you to love me. To accept who I am, despite what you don’t understand, love me anyway.”

He cocked his head, “I can’t give you what I don’t know.”

She jumped up to her feet. “You make me feel worthless. You blame me for your miserable life.” Her fist hit the center of the door, shattering the wood like tempered glass. The walls fell next and then the floor. Finally, the ceiling rained down on her, the small dull shards of glass turning into water that trailed down her cheeks. “What’s happening?”

Her father stood up as the man she knew him to be. “That is what love is to me,” he said, placing a large hand on her shoulder.

“But you’re normal now,” Lu’s voice squeaked as her body returned to the age of thirteen, the year she found out how cruel her world was. “We can be a family.”

“No. I’m still lost, and you will know that once you’re free from this dream.”

The rain stopped falling and Lu looked up to see her father’s face. It hadn’t softened; his unkind eyes looked down at her the same way as they had the day he’d told Lu he had chosen his disgusting mistress over them. And it all had gone to hell from there.

“If my own father can’t love me,” she sniffled, “how can anyone else?”

“Your mother loved you. Your sister loved you. Just because they’ve passed on doesn’t mean they stopped,” he said, taking a step backward. “I’m just one fucked up person who made one bad choice after another.” He took another step away. “One day I’m going to want what I could never allow myself to have … and worse still, I will die knowing you will never forgive me.” His image shimmered and began to fade against a wall of darkness. “No one will come to my wake. And I deserve that.”

“Don’t go, Daddy!” Seven-year-old Lu screamed and ran forward. “I forgive you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, and as they passed through, she yelled, “I do!” And then she fell forward into nothing and became nothing.

Venting

Posted: December 2, 2017 in ME
Tags: , , ,

First Plague of Trump: Blood. Deaths caused by his divisive rhetoric and hate.

Second Plague of Trump: Empowered the frogs to slip from the bogs and croak loud and proud.

Third Plague of Trump: Lies changed dust to lice creating irritants and distractions.

Fourth Plague of Trump: Dog flies in the thousands attached themselves to the eyelids of conservatives rending them blind to truth.

Fifth Plague of Trump: Murrian. Cattle plague. How the GOP views the middle and lower classes.

Sixth Plague of Trump: Boils. Turning healthcare into a death sentence for the less privileged. Death means less insurance needs.

Seventh Plague of Trump: Hailstorm. Destruction of families. Loss of homes. Death of the dream.

Eighth Plague of Trump: Locusts. Conservative republicans and the recruitment of Lobbyists Trump denounced before the election. Hiring them after.

Ninth Plague of Trump: Darkness. The reign of Trump and his minions.

Tenth Plague of Trump: Death.