Orphan

I recently became an orphan for the second time in my life.

My mom passed away nearly two months ago, my father in 2014, and my first set of parents were lost to me for reasons I have no memory of. Compared to most my age, they are gone far too early.

It’s strange to lose that thread; that intimate connection to your early life. Even though I didn’t come to them until I was about three, they were all I’d ever known.

While I should’ve anticipated the losses, they were unexpected. I learned a long time ago to always brace for the unknown, but I had forgotten, lulled by a false sense of security that she was never going to die. And when she did, I wasn’t ready.

(But seriously, how can you ever be truly ready to lose someone you love? No matter how plagued with health issues or illness, can you ever come to terms with letting go? I don’t think so.)

So I’ve had the unsavory task of going through her house and belongings. Deciding what to keep and what to give away, what to sell, what to discard has left me feeling dirty. Even though there’s no other choice it feels invasive and wrong to go through every space of someone else’s entire life.

Although I didn’t find anything earth-shattering or life-changing, I did find a lot of photos of people I didn’t recognize and knick-knacks I didn’t know the story behind. I found stripes to my dad’s navy uniform and their wedding rings that had gone unworn for many years (I’m wearing them now) and other small treasures long-forgotten, but remembered from my childhood.

I was shocked to find so many of her precious memories haphazardly left behind in tattered old cardboard boxes without any rhyme or reason. There were faded, worn, photo albums but many pictures lay In boxes without labels, tags, left unloved and untouched for many years.

As much as I would like to say that I was surprised, that was who she was. Preserving memories and protecting the past was not in her DNA. It was one of the things that frustrated me about her the most. As much as I loved her, our relationship was complicated and often messy. The cardboard boxes full of haphazard memories upset me more than I expected.

I realize that relationships between mothers and daughters are often sloppy and complicated. Especially in recent years, we often struggled to find a common ground and our stubbornness often got in the way.

So as most writers do, I put our relationship on paper. I write about that strange relationship between mothers and daughters because that’s all I’ve ever known. There have been many good memories, as well as many sad ones. The bad ones inspire stories and in those stories I’ve been able to exorcise Demons and quiet nightmares. Like me, my characters face mothers who didn’t always preserve and protect their past.

I never realized it until I became a mother, a fierce protector of my own children, that I needed to purge the anger and resentment that I had toward the mother who buried her previous memories in damp, unkept cardboard boxes.

Complicated and messay.

But I did love her very much and always will, the good memories, also weaving their way through my stories. Her memory always with me. As much as I’ve learned about what not to do, there were things she was great at that I need to do better. She taught me that none of us are perfect.

So, I will continue to sift through her belongings, sort though pictures of people I don’t recognize and blindly give away things that may or may not have been important to her. And as I do so, the only thing I will hold onto is the knowledge that no matter what, she loved me.

And no matter what, perfect or imperfect, I still loved her.

Enjoying the Journey

I often feel as though I’ve had numerous lives because of the journey that I am on.

I’m sure it’s something we all feel when we reach a certain point, everything wrapped up in neat little packages of time: Childhood, High School, College, First Job, Marriage, Children, Second Job etc.

When I was young, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. As I grew older, I simply went down the path that I started, facing a lot of detours along the way, unbeknownst to me that I would end up where I am now.

Through a great deal of hard work, sacrifice, focus, and determination I have this wonderful life that I am so thankful for every day. I get to be a wife, mother, mentor, and writer. I couldn’t have envisioned all of this years ago, even if I tried. But it certainly wasn’t easy to get here. There was an incredible amount of pain, tears, moments of incredible anger and frustration, and endless moments when I simply felt lost. Miraculously, I was able to realize that life goes on and so could I. Whether it was in my career or in life, I somehow came to the realization that life wasn’t about just getting somewhere… it was about enduring and enjoying the journey. It was about stopping and smelling the flowers along the way. It was about enjoying the small victories and the tiny successes. It was about love.

I never imagined in all of dreams, how long and treacherous this journey can be, and I felt unprepared. There have been many moments when I felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, travelling a road with strange companions and dangerous enemies while on the path to an unknown destination. Like Dorothy, there was a time when life was simple. But then it became more complicated, the choices bigger, and the stakes higher. Every step taking me somewhere I wasn’t sure that I wanted to go.

Life’s journey isn’t for the faint of heart. Too often, we are quick to give up and throw in the towel. Marriage, job, relationships… If we aren’t “Happy”, we quickly give in. If we aren’t satisfied, we just quit. If we don’t like something, we just move on to the next thing. Instead of being tenacious, working through it, fulfilling our commitments and standing up to the challenges, we throw in the towel. It’s a mentality in life that I don’t understand because it’s not the path that I have even chosen. It’s not that I took the high road, it’s simply that I took the long road because that was the path that seemed to best fit me.

I could never do things the easy or simple way. I’ve been told that time and time again throughout my life. There have been times when that has served me well and others when it has caused an excruciating amount of pain. I didn’t always enjoy the journey but I’ve always grown from it. We are trying to instill some of this is our children, not because we want them to experience pain, but because we want them to grow in life. We want them to enjoy the journey and find their path. And we don’t want them to be faint of heart.

Sometimes that journey is easier and the road isn’t as bumpy. But for some it’s full of twists, turns, and roads that seem downright un crossable. I don’t have any idea what type of journey my boys have ahead of them just as I didn’t know what I had in front of me. I still don’t know what lies ahead of me but for now, the path is peaceful and seems safe.

Tomorrow, that could all change.

I’m regrouping and gathering my strength. I’m refocusing on the things in life that matter most. I’m anticipating what may be out there, but experience has taught me that there is sometimes no way to be prepared. So I’m stopping to smell the flowers, bask in the love, take in the sights, and enjoy this journey for one more day.

“Your journey never ends. Life has a way of changing things in incredible ways.”~Alexander Volkov

Life is…

Life is…
Loving, learning, hoping, hurting, wanting, dreaming…
Failing,
Reinventing,
Regrouping,
Redeeming,
Reflecting.
Life is…
Full of joy, sadness, sorrow, pain…
The quickening of the pulse,
The beating of the heart,
It’s the glory in the rise,
and the humiliation of the fall.
Life is…
asking for forgiveness,
Begging for truth,
Finding beauty in the pain.
It’s looking in the mirror,
and not liking what you see.
Life is…
about change,
about growth,
about loving who you are.
And knowing that you will
never be the same again.
Life is…
erasing Anger,
Letting go of Hatred,
Finding your compassion,
Finding yourself.
And Life is…
Beauty, sorrow, incredible, amazing, unimaginable happiness, and undeniable grief.
But through it all,
Life is a gift,
And Life is… Good.

Blog challenge Day 20-a Difficult Time in My Life

When I started this blog challenge, this was the blog day I was dreading.

Nobody wants to rehash difficult times…or dwell. We work hard to overcome them, move past them, and if possible- forget. I also knew that I needed to be able to share without sharing any of the gory details. I can write a mean scene in a book, but I have no desire to openly share the ugliest moments of my life.

I finally realized that every difficult time in my life involves loss….physical, figurative, perceived. But loss nonetheless. I lost two friends in car accidents in my 20s, my grandmother who I adored when she was in her 90s. I lost the parents who adopted me. The dad I knew as an adult was struck down with a debilitating stroke, and the mother I knew to encephalitis. Though they are still physically there, the people I knew are gone forever. I lost friendships. I lost relatives to death, and I lost my birth parents, or maybe they lost me. I almost lost my niece to cancer, but thank God she was spared. And I almost lost love, but love always seemed to come back for me.

I write a lot about Loss because I’m intimately in tune with it. And while I do as much as I can to move past it, it still haunts me. So I try to dwell on what I’ve found instead of what I’ve lost. If I only thought of what I had lost, I don’t think I could get up every day. I try to focus on my happiness and not my sadness. The difficult times are bound to find me, but I’ve been through them before. Loss will find me again, and I dread it, but I can’t hide from it or live in fear of it. So instead – I search for joy, laughter, and love, knowing that I can’t stop the rain.

Don’t Worry Baby

I wrote this for someone I love who is struggling to find her happiness in life. It breaks my heart to see someone so young carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. But I know what that can feel like, and how hard it can be to feel so old when your young. It’s been awhile since I’ve written a poem and I’ve only ever done it for me. But I thought I would share it because that’s what this blog is all about. Sharing, even when I’m not completely comfortable doing it.

Don’t Worry Baby
There are moments that come,
And moments that go.
But don’t worry, baby
That’s the way life flows.
Just hold your head up,
And keep your heart close,
And don’t worry, baby
That’s the way life should go.
The weight of the world
Can’t all fall on you.
You’re just a girl,
You’re not the glue.
Your life wasn’t meant to make it all better,
To keep us all sane,
To hold it together.
You can’t wear the heaviness
Of everyone’s pain.
You can’t carry the mantle,
Of everyone’s shame.
Let it go, baby,
Let them carry their own.
Let them figure it out,
And leave you alone.
You’ve got your own life
To live and to breathe,
You’ve got your own sadness,
You’ve got your own needs.
So go find your smile,
Go find your bliss,
Go live in the moment,
Life is better than this.
Don’t worry baby,
Life is waiting for you
To find your own happiness,
But until you do,
Let the sadness go
Just a bit at a time,
Then you’ll see what I mean,
And you will be fine.
You’re a beautiful girl~
With an angelic soul
You need to find peace,
To make you feel whole.
There are moments that come
And moments that go.
But don’t worry, baby
That’s the way life flows.
You hold your head up,
And keep your heart close.
And don’t worry, baby
That’s the way life should go.

Leaving Eva by Jennifer Sivec “Chapter One”

Stupid Girl

Daddy No!

Daddy, please stop!

Daddy, you’re hurting me!

She never saw it coming. She didn’t even know he hit her until her right cheek and eye were exploding. There was so much rage on his face and his anger was emanating toward her, dangerous and hot.

She’d never seen Daddy so angry before, not even with Momma.

She was stunned, her feet frozen to one spot. She wanted desperately to run but was unable to move. It was almost as though she was trapped in a bad dream and couldn’t wake up. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest and her mind was racing. Daddy’s massive body was blocking the way and she thought wildly that if she didn’t move, he wouldn’t hit her again.

She was wrong.

He smacked her again, hard across the mouth and she could feel blood pouring from her bottom lip. The saltiness of it made her want to gag. He reached out and grabbed her small thin arms and squeezed them so hard they felt as though they may break in two. He picked her up until her feet were dangling off of the ground and threw her down, hard. Her head snapped back and hit the wood cabinets. The cracking sound resounded in her ears and there was instant blinding pain.

She knew that she was crying, but couldn’t feel any tears. She was afraid, and it was a strange familiar, haunting feeling that she knew she had felt sometime before in her 7 ½ years. Daddy was never overly affectionate or kind, but he had never hurt her. She had been with them for 3 years, and during that time he had barely ever touched her, good or bad. But now, he was intent on hurting her for reasons that didn’t make sense.

She begged him to stop, trying to come up with the right words as they tumbled out in between the sobs. “Daddy, please! I-I-I-I’m sorry. I’ll be careful, I’m s-s-s-orry.”

“You should be sorry! You need to be more careful, damn you. You ruin everything you touch with your filthy little hands! ” He growled, grabbing hard at her long dark hair, pulling some of it out sharply at the roots. He yanked on the pony tail as she reached out blindly trying to get him to ease his grip.

Daddy’s blue eyes were dark and full of something that she didn’t recognize at all. His face was distorted almost trance-like, looking through her like he wasn’t seeing her at all. She struggled away but his grasp on her hair wouldn’t let her escape. She felt trapped and helpless, like a mouse in a cage. Without any effort, he grabbed her again and threw her back down to the ground.

The girl was crying hard, her small body trembling in fear of what would happen to her next. “No, no, no, no,” she cried over and over. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it.”

She crouched down tight against the cabinets, and she pulled her body in, hoping to shrink. Maybe if I’m small I’ll be hard to get and he will stop. Maybe Daddy will stop!

He kicked clumsily at her sides with hard steel toed work boots. “Damn stupid kid! Why do you have to be so clumsy? Jesus Christ, you’re ALWAYS spilling and dropping things.” His voice was so loud and he was spitting as he hovered above.

The girl was trying to remember why he was so mad and then she remembered the spilled iced tea all over the floor, soaking into the beige carpet like a sponge.

“I’ll be more careful. I’ll be more careful! PLEASE DADDY, you’re hurting me!” She was screaming, but he didn’t hear.

“I work my ass off to provide for you and your mother, and this is how you repay me! I should never have let your mother convince me to buy you, you stupid Bitch!” Daddy’s voice was ugly and full of hatred. The girl didn’t know if it was the pain of the blows or the mean words that hurt the most.

She raised her hands over her head futilely as a shield. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m so clumsy and bad! Please Daddy, please. Her head was pounding and there was pain everywhere.

One, two, and then three more times Daddy hit her. There were so many that she lost count. His hands were open one second and closed the next. There were blows coming from every direction, first hitting on the head, then the arms, both sides, and occasionally the face.

The smell of whiskey was hanging above the tiny girl in a large cloud, curling her nose with its sweet insipid smell. She was gagging and crying at the same time, and it was hard to breathe. She was choking on her own stupidity and carelessness. Mommy keeps telling me to be more careful. I’m a bad girl. I’m too loud and stupid and I always spill. Mommy will hate me now too. I’m a bad girl!

She dared a glance upward and could see that Daddy was starting to pant, his face red, while sweat poured down his forehead. Please God, make him stop. Please help me be more careful! Why can’t I just be a better girl?

“Please stop, please”, she cried desperately, in a small frightened voice that she hadn’t heard before. Daddy doesn’t love me because I’m stupid. Daddy hates me. I hate me too. I’m so stupid!

He looked at her, his gaze slicing through her. “You’re the reason your mother hates me! It’s all your fault you stupid useless Brat!”

It was true. Mommy has me so she can’t love Daddy. She told me. It is my fault!

It felt like he had been hitting her for so long. But after only a few minutes he was spent.

He finally staggered backwards clumsily, not looking her way at all. Daddy didn’t look well, his skin pale and wet with sweat, the rage replaced with confusion and shame.

“Go to your room, right now, Brynn!” His voice was barely audible as he looked away.

Brynn stood feeling unsteady for a moment, her body shaking uncontrollably as she willed her legs to move. I’m going Daddy. I’m going!

Daddy turned and staggered out to the porch and lit up a cigarette. The cool night air came in with a welcome gust soothing her burning face, and she forgot about the pain momentarily. The danger was still palpable in the air, and Brynn realized that she needed to get to her room.

The journey up the stairs was difficult but she finally made it, falling onto the bed with relief. Brynn buried her face into the pillow smearing bright red blood and tears on the white crisp pillowcase.

He hates me! He hates me and I’m so stupid. It’s my fault. I’m so clumsy and stupid. If I run away, maybe Mommy will love him and then he will love me. I ruined everything! I wish I had never ever been born!

After what felt like hours, she stood up and carefully walked into the bathroom and locked the door. Brynn looked in the mirror and searched all over for bruises. The right cheek and eye were swelling and turning purple. The split in her lip was also swelling at an alarming rate as the blood was starting to crust and dry up. Her eyelids were swollen from crying so hard and there was nothing but pain in her ribs, back, arms, and legs from all of the kicking they endured.

Brynn wished Mommy would hurry home. Mommy, where are you? Mommy, I need you!

Daddy had never been this mean before. He was to Mommy, but not to Brynn. He yelled occasionally, but had never kicked, hit, or swore at her. Daddy never kissed or hugged her, but Brynn always thought he loved her. After all, he bought her things from time to time like big lollipops and candy from the store. He gave her presents for birthdays and on Christmases. My Daddy hates me! He wishes I was never adopted. He hates me more than anything in the world.

What if Daddy hits me all the time? The thought struck suddenly. I should run away.

Brynn knew Mommy couldn’t protect her. Mommy couldn’t even protect herself. While Daddy had never hit Brynn before, he hit Mommy. He even shook Mommy hard making her flop all over the place like Brynn’s favorite doll, Betsy. Mommy said it wasn’t Daddy’s fault. She said it was only because of the alcohol. Today Daddy was drinking a lot of alcohol and Brynn noticed that it was a lot more than usual.

The “special” glass was filled up 5 times, full to the top. Usually, Daddy only had Brynn fill it 2 or 3 times, and then Mommy did the rest after bedtime. Daddy never filled his own glass because he said it was their responsibility. “I put a roof over your heads, and give you food to eat, and clothes to wear. I buy everything!” he reminded them often.

Even though Daddy was mean to Mommy, Brynn still loved him. You’re supposed to love your Daddy. That’s what happy families do. They love each other. She wanted to have a happy family more than anything. Even though her only friend Stacy had a sad family too, like Brynn’s, families were supposed to be happy. Mommy didn’t like Brynn to have a lot of friends because she didn’t want her away from the house much. Mommy always made her come home so she could spend time with her. Mommy said that she missed Brynn her too much when she was gone.

Brynn was sad because Mommy didn’t love Daddy. Mommy told her time and time again even if Daddy was in the room. She always whispered it loudly, pretending that it was their little secret. Brynn knew that Daddy could still hear. But Daddy was quiet like he didn’t care, even though he had a funny look on his face. Mommy and Brynn were best friends and Mommy told her everything.

“We only stay with him because he takes care of us Brynn. I only love you,” Mommy always told her. Brynn thought that maybe Daddy loved Mommy, because why else would he take care of them? Maybe Daddy will stop taking care of us now that he is hitting me too. Brynn was afraid of what would happen to them.

There must have been something wrong with her or Brynn’s real Mommy would have wanted her. Brynn picked up the picture of her and Mommy Rose that sat next to her bed. It was a picture of them right after her “Gotcha Day”. Brynn looked very different then, so skinny and scraggly with a permanently sad expression on her face. She thought about her real Mommy and once again wondered where she was and why she left her. Brynn wondered if her real Mommy ever thought of her and what she looked like. Would my real Mommy care that Daddy was hitting me? Would she save me?

Brynn reached up carefully, touching her cheek. It felt big and was throbbing and stinging. She felt hot. She lifted up her shirt and saw the skin on her sides turning red and purple. Her arms were tender and painful to the touch and there hand prints bruising her skin.

She moved slowly to her bed and waited for Mommy Rose to come home. Every part of her face was burning and her lip kept bleeding. As hard as she tried she couldn’t stop crying, salty tears burning the open wound on her lip. How could Daddy be so mean?

Mommy!! When she finally heard the car in the driveway her heart leapt for joy. Brynn dared not leave the bedroom for fear Daddy would see her.

Mommy will come kiss me good night. Brynn waited for Mommy to come up. When Mommy saw her face she would know what Daddy had done. Brynn was ashamed that Daddy had to punish her.

Maybe Mommy won’t love me anymore either, she thought suddenly. She’ll think I’m too clumsy too. She hates when I spill things because he always yells at her. Maybe she will hit me too. Brynn was suddenly afraid. She hadn’t thought of that before.

She waited anxiously. When Mommy’s light footsteps echoed in the hall Brynn held her breath and waited for the door to open. Did Daddy tell her what I did? What if she hates me too?

The door opened slowly and Mommy walked in looking like an angel. Mommy’s brown eyes were very serious as she looked at Brynn. She didn’t say anything but instead walked over to the bed slowly, and hugged Brynn. Brynn held her tight and sobbed into her chest.

“Oh Brynn,” Mommy said in a soothing voice. “What did you do? Why were you so clumsy and why can’t you just be more careful? It will be okay.”

Brynn couldn’t speak. She couldn’t say anything between the sobs.

Mommy gently touched Brynn’s swollen cheek, tears forming in her own eyes. She started to reach toward Brynn’s cracked lip and stopped before touching it.

“Brynn, you have to be more careful. Daddy doesn’t like messes. You can’t spill because he gets really mad.” Mommy scolded gently. Mommy didn’t look angry like he had; instead there was a different look on her face. It was a look that Brynn didn’t understand. Brynn breathed a sigh of relief. Mommy didn’t hate her like Daddy did.

She held Brynn close. Mommy smells like flowers. Sweet.

For the first time that night, Brynn felt safe. Mommy went to the bathroom, got a washcloth, ran cool water over it, and washed Brynn’s tearstained face. She wiped Brynn’s swollen cheek and gently swabbed her bloody lip. She was careful as she tried to clean up the crusted blood. Mommy spoke gently, soothing, like she did when Brynn was much smaller. Then she tucked Brynn into bed and kissed her first on the forehead and then on the cheek. Brynn winced in pain and then smiled weakly, relieved that Mommy was home.

“There will be no school until your lip and face looks better, sweet girl,” Mommy said attempting a smile. “We’ll stay home and do puzzles together all day and drink hot cocoa. We’ll have a ‘girl’s day’.” Mommy stroked Brynn’s hair lightly, “But you can’t tell anyone about Daddy hitting you. If you do, they will take you away from me.”

Brynn didn’t want to be away from Mommy. She loved Mommy.

“I promise Mommy, I won’t tell,” Brynn said, her voice small and serious.

“You’re a good girl, darling,” Mommy said looking at Brynn with adoring eyes.

“No I’m not Mommy, I’m a bad girl. I took your love away from Daddy. It’s my fault you don’t love him,” Brynn cried. She wanted to confess because she didn’t want to keep a secret from Mommy.

Mommy’s face got angry and then she suddenly smiled her teeth pretty and white, “Oh Brynn. It’s not your fault I don’t love Daddy. I never loved Daddy. I only married Daddy so that I could find you one day. Even if you weren’t here, I still wouldn’t love Daddy.”

Brynn was relieved. It wasn’t her fault after all, but then she was sad. Poor Daddy. To not be loved was so sad.

“Is Daddy going to hurt me again? It really hurt Mommy,” she said sadly, trying not to whimper.

“No Brynn! Mommy won’t let Daddy hurt you like that again!” Mommy said. But Brynn was still afraid because Daddy hit Mommy, and nothing could stop him.

Mommy answered without Brynn asking, “I know Daddy hits me, but we can’t leave because he takes care of us. We need him. I’ll talk to Daddy and I won’t leave you alone with him again.”

Brynn was relieved. She wasn’t alone with him much, but if it was never then he couldn’t hurt her again.

“Thank you Mommy!” She loved Mommy so much. Mommy was pretty and nice and Brynn loved her with all of her heart, to the moon and back, “I love you so much Mommy!”

Mommy gave her baby girl a sad smile. She bent over and tucked Brynn in, leaving the night light on.

“Go to sleep sweet girl. I love you too,” she whispered softly.

Brynn closed her eyes and got as comfortable as she could. She moved around trying to get comfortable despite the pain. All of her muscles hurt and her lip was stinging. She didn’t realize how tired she was and quickly started to drift off.

Mommy went downstairs, and just as Brynn fell asleep she was jolted awake by the sound of Daddy yelling. Daddy was yelling at Mommy!

She covered her ears tight. Mommy was screaming and then there was a slapping sound. Something made a loud cracking sound, like the sound of wood splintering and breaking, which made her jump. Mommy cried out loudly.

Brynn huddled up tight in her bed and squeezed her eyes closed as she felt tears running down her face. Daddy, please don’t hurt Mommy. She wanted to run downstairs, but she was afraid. What if he hits me again? Mommy, Mommy! Brynn grabbed her dolly, Betsy, and hugged her until the screaming stopped and there was an eerie silence in the house. She tried to stay awake as long as she could but she was terrified that her door would open and he would come in and try to hurt her again. But there was nothing but quiet. She listened hard for Mommy to make a sound, but she didn’t hear anything in the house. Her eyelids started to get heavy and she finally into a restless painful asleep.