The Playground

Moments of understanding come in flashes for me, the big aha, now I get it. Yesterday  in the crisp early morning air, as I was watching my hubby sitting in the engine of a  train... smiling, so full of joy- bam it hit me.
Why this  particular lesson was hitting me so hard, and how hard I had pushed back, dug my heels in. I just sat in stunned silence, how could I not see this before?  I was not ready, didn't have the tools
to get to this moment. I had arrived on this beautiful crisp morn, breeze blowing, as if straight out of a movie.  It was so clear to me now, I had no previous experience, and had been beating myself up for not knowing the rules, having this particular handbook.
  The moment  came as I was watching a very patient and kind gentleman teaching a young man how to properly check and recheck his work, before the train could be in service for the day.  It was the kindness in his voice, the ease in which he spoke to this young man.
It was the first time I really understood why team work was so important, and why walking away solves very little. My lack of experience in groups= my lack of experience with being raised in a family. My weakness in life, having been raised without the benefit of team work.
 My idea of teams, team work, boiled down to every man for themselves, wait for your opponent to turn on you, several at a time possibly,  never saw what was coming, how could I let my guard down? When parents were at the helm of such behavior, this would be a hard nut to crack, to trust. Always waiting, wondering, sleeping with one eye open. Identifying the behavior at it's roots, or it will continue for a lifetime. Yesterday I finally got to that place, understanding something so basic it.
You don't throw people away, walk away forever over a fight. You are allowed to have differing opinions. My differing opinions have cost me dearly, years at a time. My letters of forgiveness offered cost me, by being vulnerable, keeping my heart open- with attacks.  However--- the gift through all of that ....you crawl, beg God for mercy. The lessons have been invaluable.
Had I literally not had the shit kicked out of me in my darkest moments,  I would not have grown, stayed complacent.
 Those experiences  were some of my greatest teachers. At the time I wondered why? Only with enough perspective, time, healing, forgiveness could I possibly have gratitude.  Groups, much like families come in many sizes, personalities, everyone is not going to get along. I had no understanding of this process, I was so out of my element, no matter how much study I had done, this one had to be experienced. Every time I would get too close, "something" would happen, go awry, arguments, anger, frustration, division. Recreating family.... it was all I knew.
The family I created with Ray had been a different story, we all wanted in the same thing... love.

 The moment of understanding yesterday morning all came together, feeling excruciating pain of knowing I had been the cause of my husband not playing on the playground with some of the kids- from my inability to learn how to play.
He is my love,  my heart,  now I understood all the way through something I had not resolved inside myself - affected him so deeply. It begins with understanding, then forgiveness, and compassion.
I am looking forward to both of us being with kids on the playground, we're ready to play.

Billy The Kid and Lamb Chop too.

My daughter had this book for the longest time that I would stare at- her books always fascinate me. "Men who love bitches,"hmmm, catchy title. I would look at it, kick it around, and finally awhile back I opened it. She bought this years ago,  the reader that she is- having been in a very Bukowski faze through high school, we would sit and read together his books. I think his writing got me to want to really deeply express myself. Granted he was one angry, hurt guy, cussed incessantly ( I know I know my guilty pleasure) and loved detailing his sexcapades. Who's not down for that one, especially Bukowski style?  "Men Who love Bitches", my mind began to wander back to high school,    imagining some of the gal pals this book may have been intended for. Exactly, the ones that fascinated this gal.
 As I write this I can't help but think of my darling friend Jimmy, really the first boy I  became friends with in high school, to this day we are still close. We went through a number of years not  being in contact, he moved away, then about six years ago we reconnected. Jimmy, I do believe this story is in honor of you. Freshman year, coming in late  well into the second semester - and there was Jimmy.
Two years older than me, starting in with some joke- and yes hard for anyone to believe now, I could barely look up  let alone utter a word.  Jimmy just made it better, was funny, and never once was the kind of friend to ever make me think of a book about "Men Who Love Bitches." He just didn't roll that way, and I am so grateful my first high school male friend treated me with respect, humor and dignity.
 It didn't stop me from watching what was  going on around me. Being very quiet, new( wasn't quiet with those closest around me) I  just observed mannerisms, a trait that has stayed with me to this very day. The most popular and  absolute rejects of society fascinated me to no end. I think the latter kept kept my attention longer. There was" Billy The Kid" I  I lovingly named- I don't know she just reminded me of Billy The Kid..... it was her hair. Lamb had super Lamb chop sideburns,was very theatrical  with his theatrical homeys in the Quad. This is where I could have lived, truth be known. These theatrical groupies citing fake Shakespearean accents loudly rocked my world.  Especially when Lamb did it, he was my favorite.  Now I  have lost interest in the popular crew, I am thinking about those sideburns and just want to gaze at them in my yearbook, take a spin at with "Billy The Kid" again. She is Ray's favorite, as I have pointed her out at least once in real life, as he says, "Oh I definitely  see what you mean."
It was something about that popular crew, maybe the air they breathed was generated from a different land than the rest of us. I just knew I was  from the  "regular crew," sealed my fate the day one of my friends from my St. Luke's  days  (previous school) lovingly took me aside ( definitely kidding) let me know if I continued to "hang out " with one  particular girl, she could not get me in the popular group. Okay, so I am only fourteen, but I have plenty of super hard headed Italian steam in my head. I am sure I gave a very good fake smile, by  the next day probably gathered many a Billy The Kid, Lamb Chop and various others to strut through school. I sealed my fate with that one.
It did get somewhat lonely trying to figure my place, I have always just liked who I liked. 
One of my friends she did like her drugs, wasn't my thing but I liked her. The other was a Church Addict..... seriously, talk about polar opposites! Those were my two closest friends through high school, neither went to my school, and didn't like each other, so I did more observing and trying to figure out where I belonged while at school.
The Men Who Love Bitches..... I just didn't know how to play the game. I was Frances' daughter,  a simple gal who was used to wearing a uniform to school everyday. I was the only sibling  who veered from all girl or boy Catholic High School and  now and was struggling with it all, especially  in the clothes department. My mom gave me fifty dollars to buy my clothes for the year. Hmm, I wandered on over to Miller  Outpost at the mall. "Dittos,  a type of popular girls pants in the 7o's were nearly forty bucks. I did the best I could do, but I bought those dittos, you know I did. I  put together any combo known to mankind,  borrowed, rifled, used hand me downs, I didn't care, I was desperate.  I self consciously scooted my way down  the halls through the lockers  each morning only eye contact - the dots on the floor.
A funny thing I remember this one girl would say to me, " You always have the cutest clothes.
A. My first reaction..... keep your voice down someone will hear.
B. Right
C. I am so embarrassed  I wish I could disappear.
Never did I think, wow, what a nice compliment, she really likes my clothes. I had nothing to compare it to, I felt so in it alone. I still have that first reaction to a compliment- trying to get  out grow that one! The great lesson I learned from that, desperation is the true mother of invention and  served me well throughout my life. I passed it on to my daughter, hopefully in a more creative form- having fun and looking at what is not there, make your own magic. Katie is amazing with creations, art, design  and is definitely one of a kind.
I still like strange funky stores, I am a gal who loves diamonds in the rough, with people , places and things.
Yes, I wanted to be those shiny diamonds I saw walking around- more than you could possibly imagine. I had no idea who I was,  until pushed!
Thanks Jimmy for making that scared freshman girl feel okay in her own skin.

Howdy Partner

Every time I saw "Partner," I expected him to have pistols packed in each holster,
  Gary Cooper's determined look of defiance, yep. That's what I expected when I bounced on through Partners doors. Cool, level headed, ready for anything. Hmmm....  Howdy Partner.
Ray is sitting on the couch lost in his own computer world thoughts, but at the same time saying.... "What in the hell is she laughing about again? " He's trying to act cool as he sees me snicker and type fast. How fast can a gal who types with two fingers go? I type with my two middle fingers, why, I have no idea..... just how I roll, just seems to make sense to me. Got a pretty good rhythm actually,  once I get lost in my own world. Okay, back to Partner...... so sorry.Met Partner and his gal well over fifteen years ago, was in need of a Chiropractor, can't remember what they specialized in- but seemed what I needed at the time. Partner and his gal were a Hubby and Wife team. Seems like we could have figured out that Dept, Ray's bro and mine  both being chiropractors.
(Would have to travel to Pennsylvania  for mine, though.)  I  started off as Mrs. Partner's patient,  I liked her a lot, so didn't pay much attention to Partner, his holster and showdown at High Noon.  But one day Partners wife took to the bed ill...... can't remember exactly what happened, in stepped the ever chivalrous Partner to the rescue.
Howdy Partner..... is  he seriously talking to me, while saunters slowly across the room, ( seemed like slow motion) doing the severe lean back.
Now this is just funny at this point,  because he is wearing his slackettes  waaaaaay too high, his shirt severely tucked into those very high slackettes, and the lean gets even more severe backward. How does this Cowboy not fall?
Howdy Partner..... I look around again, wanting to just burst out loud, froth, dance a jig, who the hell didn't see Partner sauntering toward me in this rig whilst as dead pan as humanly possibly calling me Partner for the tenth time.
 The set up for this Chiropractic Clinic seemed ultra modern to me at the time. It was a very large room,as opposed to the small rooms I had always gone to previously. When the kids were small, we went to Ray's brother ( now  is sports therapist/ motivational speaker for athletes )  so we are all out together with Partner. I couldn't wait for Ray's turn to meet Partner..... I didn't want to spoil the surprise. He got even more of a super lean back, and I swear  it is inhumanly possibly for that mans pants to be hitched up around his now it would almost appear to be his neck? Katie and Matt experienced Mr. and Mrs. Partner...... why not share the wealth, didn't want to be stingy. Partner started getting super controlling, maybe his pants starting strangling him and he couldn't breath?If we all didn't come in forever three times a week, we were "bad partners." So sad to say our Partnerdome ended one sweet day- but today for some reason, the memory of that fine man, that swell posture, and calling out to Ray this morn..... Howdy Partner  just brought all that magic back.
Good times...... :)

 

Home

I don't know the exact moment it hit, or even if  there is an exact moment anymore. I think it is a series of baby quakes, and I am slightly shaken until the earth beneath me starts to rumble, saying, "Hey, seriously what do you need to  pay attention- I'm talking to you." Boom, it's on. It was on several times today, okay, okay I heard. First quake- in Nordstrom Rack. I just realized--- I hate that store. I walk in and think, oh designer this,  fabulous that, great prices, and my bigger than Leo part takes over,  kicking the sweet gal to the curb. Yes, on occasion I have found some cool things- but overall I feel like crap. Have no idea why, it is just the energy in my local one. I feel really tired after maybe ten minutes, I sit in the dressing room with the worst self loathing taking over. Hmm....   and this is supposed to be fun? I actually dig shopping, so something is not right in my Universe when this is going down.
    Figuring out maybe it is time to vamoose,  I am out the door breathing fresh air again. this seems to make sense to me, and I crank up the music in my car..... featuring Wine Country which is just rocking my world. Ray and I got the CD about six or seven years ago, and I found it again the other day. It just soothes your soul like a gentle summer breeze and feels like you are taking sweet, windy roads even while doing mundane outings. But- the downside to this tenderhearted gal, my heart is already feeling so much, now it is just churning away as I am listening to these beautiful melodies.  I am so thirsty, God knows why I pull into Panda Express to get an iced tea- it just sounded good. I text my friend,  as we go back and forth, a pool a water forms beneath my eyes which I can no longer control, dripping down my cheeks. Trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence as I saunter over for yet another gigantic iced tea, I just give it up and let them flow. Who's kidding who, it's on, and I just want out of there. What I realize as I am walking out, purpose. Ok, if I have to lose it in Panda Express, (I am nothing if not for self exploration) purpose of being.....in my case, it's part two honey bunny- time to figure it out. I accomplished what was in my heart, stayed home, raised our children and couldn't be prouder of who they are.  Now something else is  calling me, not entirely different, It's still all about Love. Our kids taught my heart well. Part Two.
Over dinner tonight I talked to Ray about this revelation, we always talk about this revelation,
working together- our dream. The thing is, we really just like being together,  with the desire to create a space, an environment where people can feel home..... loved, safe, creative,   the in betweens we are still  trying to figure out. We want to buy land, he wants a barn, both figuring out details- and lots of them. But one thing that has remained true, consistent and unwavering for Ray's bride. If we build it, they will come. The one true thing I know in my heart- a life centered around goodness, love, treating people with dignity and respect. I have gotten so stuck in the details..... instead of just moving forward and believing, letting my heart DREAM BIG, as it has moved me forward in every other area of my life, introduced me to all the people I  love- instead of getting bogged down with too many details. It's not me, never has been.
That is who I can hire to help me, I have to understand my strengths.....  we all do.
It is not about what so and so said we should do. What is in our hearts? I have been so fearful at times- because my heart wants to do what others would consider ridiculous. The path to my current life.....
I almost can't breath, the tears are here, they should be. The road has been long, rocky, severe at times,
seemed never ending at other times.... but somewhere inside me, there was a small voice that believed in dreams. At twenty when I  felt the most washed up, couldn't go back home after being away since sixteen, failed marriage- sitting on  my stoop in South Pasadena I'd had enough.I decided I wanted real love. No  more running away from home, running from one problem after another, to another. It was done- I wanted real love, whatever, however it came, whatever it took, whatever it looked like. It came.... but not easily. Not for Ray or me. Neither of us traveled lightly with our pasts.
But the unpacking along the way, the willingness to do whatever it took to love, forgive, heal.  That has been the past thirty two years- finding our way home. That will be our next adventure, creating a haven, a place where others can feel HOME. It all starts with that one step, that belief that there is more.
For me, it is usually Earthquakes, Avalanches, Landslides. I am hardheaded.... I wish I could get it the first time, second or third would be swell. But for me to make such great changes and believe them all the way through- sometimes my world needs to shake. Here's to the great Part Two..... next adventure.

When Crazy is Normal

I write in cycles.... I can go for many months and not have the slightest interest in jotting anything more down than a brief grocery list. A note.  Typically when this occurs, I am in the thick of it, living it, going through many changes, writing is the absolute last thing I have the energy for. I am haunted in my waking hours, my dreams, people I meet, all screaming, screeching, butting up against me,  change is in the air.
I know when outwardly  change happens.... I do something dramatic as a Leo needs to do.I chop off  my hair. Got even more cut today..... and quite honestly- I told my gal I felt like shaving my head fresh new start. "How about we just clean it up," she politely asked ? Okay, guess that will work too. :)
 For me when so much change is going on inside, I  need to express it outwardly...... hair lady always says, " But why the hair? " Because  I need a change.
 We were chatting about growing up italian, throw in catholic.
I will digress for a moment, because it makes me laugh. While in Osh over the weekend, as Ray and I were cruising around, this gal pal working there stops in her tracks, stares and says...." You're kidding me?" Ok, is my lunch on my face, something on my shirt, did I say what I was thinking out loud and forget? Then she laughs really hard pointing at Rays shirt.  "Don't Hassle The Hoff" with a pic of David Hasselhoff-  oh that! We both just laughed..... and the conversation began, but what I appreciated even more, my hubby's fabulous sense of humor.
This gal pal and I were only a couple years apart, but could have been twins in the life and times of Catholic Girl's Life. Even down to making up sins when we couldn't think of any thing good for mandatory monthly confession in  grade school.  We were morphing as one, telling stories. Her sister becoming a nun, my bro going to the seminary to become a priest.  Telling her, honestly until about two years ago I never made the connection about my siblings names..... Mary and Joe the two oldest.
Mary and Joseph- really??? Oh and Anne, the next one Mary's mother..... your kidding?
My mother was seriously into the saints names. I was born on St Clare's feast Day-
My Mother is Frances. St Francis of Assisi..... and the beat goes on. William, well, that seems fairly non saintly as far as saints rock, and then the baby, St Paul. I thought my brothers given name this whole time was "Billy", not William -  no wonder I was in the "other class" in school, and it wasn't for brainiacs. I just took  things, people, just about everything at face value, fifth out of sixth in line is just that. You do what you do- you always had someone telling you what to do, how to think, what to say.
Parents, siblings before you, priests, nuns, whatever, whoever.
I was a very compliant human being, quiet, shy beyond words. My world was one of observation as it remains today. I thought to myself  today while out, "Who are you really?" Being  somewhat of an extroverted Leo, a at times I  need to play in the Sun. But honestly, what I am learning about myself each day, I am a loner. Something I have not cared to look at, or accept. I enjoy being alone, observing,
taking mental notes, etc. I love talking and meeting people, but then when I am full up, I am full up and need to go home to my sanctuary- it is how I survive and thrive. I am accepting all the parts of me, which in the past I denied, betrayed, was ashamed of, simply pushed away. In order for me to give the very best of me, I need my recharging time.  Coming from a family with no boundaries......
When Crazy is Normal, I felt as though I were committing a criminal act by taking care of myself, stepping away,  hibernating until I got my bearings back. This was never okay, so I learned to stick situations out way past the point of discomfort,  sheer misery, agony, torture.
But because all the players ( family members) and their blank expressions normalized insanity, I began to act like crazy was normal. It was all about the numbers ( people) there were too many of them- I wasn't yet strong enough to fully stand on my own- and be the punching bag each time. My recovery time would get slower and slower,  while depression would loom larger and darker. BUT- I wanted to fit in.
Just love me, like me, ok, just don't hate me. This would become my mantra and I would dance any dance that was required. It no longer mattered, only approval, one that would never come. Hair lady and I talked about what no longer is okay in our lives, I listened with new ears. Maybe more room with new ventilation with new 'do. How is this one? It is not okay to feel like crap before, during and after being around family, or people  that don't give or are harmful.Why must I hang so tough, who am I proving this to anymore? I am worth more than just surviving, I, like everyone on this Planet- have a right to thrive and feel magnificent, whole, joyous.
 Hows this one??? Ecstatic. Whoa, bold declaration for Frances' fifth child. The child that was so afraid to have dreams,  to show LOVE.... which in this lifetime is the only thing that has ever made sense to me. Coming from The Sahara Desert of withholding households, punished for expression. Living in COLOR... bold and brave and beautiful and daring as we can be. Releasing our fears and cares and just going for it. Believing we are ENOUGH! Always were.... always will be.
It really is just one baby step at a time. Sometimes one forward, two back, and even tripping along the way. Here's the thing no one told any of us..... in that great manual of how things work. You're supposed to fall, skin your knees, get a little banged up.  Color outside the lines- laugh, cry, yell, dance, jump, get mad, just get going. Whatever , however , everyone one of us has our own special way. When we allow it, quit punishing and denying.... that is when the MAGIC is unlocked.Trust and believe in yourself----- I believe in you.


 

Holy Water

The last time I saw her, she had been vibrant, full of vigor and sort of reminded me of a beautifully aging hippy, yet not. She drove an old VW bug well into her nineties, and bought that baby brand spanking new. Maybe that is the only reason she reminded me of a hippy, otherwise nothing but pure elegance and good living reflected  back from this gal. She was my piano teacher when I was a kid, all my siblings as well. I don't remember too much from the lessons, "Heart and Soul" was probably as far as I got. I played by ear, just didn't know it then to my great frustration and I am sure hers. But.... she was nothing but patient. When we were  finished with our lesson, that was the best part, milk and cookies waiting.

My mom asked if we could stop by the house she is now living in, not five minutes from her own home, even on the same street. I didn't know what to expect as we walked in, she had broken her hip in the past year, several other things, or how many people lived here. As I approached her  the first thing I noticed,  frail, tiny hands, those same beautiful hands that taught me  piano, now seemed so lost. She  seemed even more beautiful, in the purest way.
My mom sat on one side and I sat on the other as she grabbed our hands and just held on like a child.
It was so sweet  as I looked into her eyes and saw such love and goodness. I have always liked her, but never was able to be close to her as this moment. She was very active and perky are the only words I could use to describe her, very self sufficient. She  had been a widow for many years, buried a son,  raised three other children, I  just always saw such strength.

Today, now as she held on, I felt her hands, wrists so fragile I was careful not to grip her  too hard,
yet something was tugging at me hold on, don't let go. I dug around in my purse, (women and our bottomless pits of things)  I knew I'd recently bought a really delicious smelling hand lotion and started massaging her hands very gently, rhythmically, almost as though it were a dance.  We both relaxed more, our conversation becoming more natural,  less stilted. I looked around the room with each stroke of her hand, observing two very darling older women in chairs, as we all sat watching an old black and white movie on some ancient TV set. The days were  unbearably long, it was so clear.
It was so interesting looking back and forth between my mother and her. She wanted to touch, pure affection something my mother was struggling with. She told me she didn't want to take away all the kisses I had for my mother to her. It was just about the most darling thing.... as I assured her there was plenty in my arsenal of kisses, that I could promise would never run short. (This was one of my moms oldest friends from Temple City and watching them kiss each other  was so good for my heart.... just sweetness of children)

She was holding the small bottle of lotion, cupping it, with  kleenex I had given her to dry her hands. With almost reverent motions with the bottle as she spoke, telling me she might forget about the lotion,  I asked her to smell it, that would help her remember and make her feel good. Life is interesting that way for all of us, when we break it down to just simple.  I put my hand on her heart, it didn't matter what her head said at times, her heart always would lead her where she needed to go. In that moment, she began talking about her son, I knew in my heart which one she was talking about. Her heart was talking now.

We spoke for awhile longer, she thanked us both for coming, then my mom had gone outside, at this point. I have had my share of saying - that I would be back. I am not proud of this. I knew without a doubt I would be back this time, and every week thereafter. I thanked her, and  finally knew why.
She was the gift, she was grace that I got to experience. Pure divine love.
She held tighter to the lotion, as I kissed her goodbye. She said she knew she wouldn't forget what it was, it was her holy water.

Intersection

How can I be at such an intersection of feelings all at once?
Almost tingling with confusion, hurt, anger, exhaust, relief, wanting to fall into a deep slumber as I write this. The letting go stage- aha! I was just talking to my son Matt, we were looking back on the week my dad died. Sometimes enough time needs to pass where guilt, pretending, just letting what is or isn't just be. Sometimes when a person dies, we think we have to make them into someone they weren't when they were living. Why that is, I will never know. To some, we tell the truth and it is though we have committed some act of treason. Disrespect to the dead. Not to me.... it just  is or isn't.

This story is important for one reason and one reason alone, it allows everyone to feel whatever they do about their parents, good,bad or in between. We don't wear the shoes of anyone but our own,  have no idea how another feels all the way through, how someone was raised from childhood- what pushes peoples buttons up until present time.
 The night my dad went into the hospital, kicking and screaming,( literally for weeks, months) almost fully bleeding out at home,  then  full cardiac arrest by the time he was in the emergency room. I suggest you stop reading now if you don't like details. My father to the very end was going to do it his way, and it didn't involve how anyone of us felt. In life this was a fact, overall, so in death this would be no different.  What was I thinking- to get him to go to the hospital all that week, my mom wouldn't let me come down to their house, I was banned. I feel an enormous amount of pain writing this and some shame, but if the truth sets you free, then I am ready. I  tried calling different agencies for help through the months, for my mom, for him. I knew the household was deteriorating,  it was getting sicker with his secrets, and he was making my mom and brother keep his secrets.  My youngest brother ( who lives in their back house) had just gotten out of a  facility( for the fourth time) and was very fragile. The very next day after he returned home, my dad started having  extreme bathroom issues and had my brother deal with it alone, and it was intense from the get go.  By the end, it had deteriorated to the point where he wanted to eat meals in the bathroom, simply left the door open, acted like it was perfectly normal. His behaviors through our lives had been similar- I have to say in other ways, now that I look back. Such hight levels of inappropriateness that I have laughed off, or my brother and I would mimic my parents voices, anything because the truth is, it was just too much. I have told very close friends some behaviors that have gone on in that house, but I am still cautious to tell others-I can be very glib, when I am in a particularly high shock mode I will just say things, but what can you really do when things go on? We stay away now as much as possible, I didn't subject my kids to too much hopefully. They  acted a little more dignified and normal when they were around.
My brother and I are the youngest children of six, and always felt responsible for our parents, he for my father, me for my mother. My dad was getting very out of control with issues at this point, and had my mom and brother lying to me, and everyone. My brother finally called and couldn't take it anymore one night when my father bled all down the hallway. I said I was coming over,  my mother wouldn't let me in the house, it was getting insane. I finally said I was no longer there for them( to get in the door), I was there for my brother.
I called my oldest brother, my sister, and tried to get my dad to reason, get him to the hospital. My mom, my sister, my dad and me sat at the table, Ray and my brother were in the back house.
I begged my dad, anything to get him to go to the hospital. Nothing but him getting angrier and angrier and directing it at me, it got to a fevered pitch. He started in on me, I just didn't expect it.
What a miserable daughter I was, terrible teenager, snarling as he spoke, saying horrible things about me- the kind of girl I was as a teen. My mother and sister spoke not one word in my defense, complete silence. I told him he had not been a kind father, not done the job he needed to have done.
One thing I am proud of, no matter how low he went, I never went there with him.
He told me to get out, to never come back, I was a good for nothing, just like when I was a kid.
Still, nothing form my mother or sister..... silence.
Ray and Paul, my brother heard us going back and forth, heard some of what my dad had said.
They were enraged, I was shocked anyone would even be enraged at that point, because my sister and mom acted as if it were normal. As Ray defended his wife, my dad told him to get the hell out and never come back, it was awful.
My oldest brother acted like the whole thing wasn't going on, just kept wandering around. My dad told him he didn't want to go to the hospital, to that my brother said, "A guys got his rights." Sure does asshole, this is the same guy I had to console when he felt guilty about my dad dying, he just ignored the whole thing.
 Yep, this is what it looks like when feelings of all this come out. I kept it in, held it together for everyone- everyone but me. Now over a year and a half later it is coming out, it is time.
The night my dad did finally go in the hospital, the only reason he would go- my  oldest brother told him he wanted to go on vacation soon, so my dad went in.  He wouldn't do it for anyone or other reason.
By the time we all went in the room at Emergency he had a tube down his throat. We were told he wouldn't make it through the night- time to say our goodbyes. ( He held on for another week)
 Imagine six kids, spouses, all the grandchildren packed in this tiny room, no one in leadership role, no boundaries. My dad keeps pointing to me to come close to him. We hadn't spoken since the week before  I know what he wants- us to say we are sorry to each other. No one backs up, no one gives us space, I don't do well in groups, with audiences..... you could hear a pin drop.
I apologized, crying, it doesn't stop there. He points for me to come close, he wants more, I know what he wants. I am beginning to lose it, this is too much. He wants me to make up with my oldest brother, and we haven't spoken in over three years. No way I am not doing this..... I see everyone perk up even more.... and that is how my family rolls.
He is frantically pointing to my brother and back at me,  I feel as though I am on trial, if I don't do this- I am just a shit. Never in life would he just talk to me, with anyone  just sit down for anything real. If we did try- full blown attacks so below the belt, and now he wants this, full audience so he can feel better. So much history with this brother who caused so much pain I cannot begin to express, he
had my sisters take sides against me- my entire family, agony was searing into  me. So many lies....
and now it was my moment of letting it go, just be me for what I stood for, what I claimed I stood for.
My children were there......
I apologized,  one of the hardest things I have ever done. Apologizing to someone who betrayed and destroyed me at such a young age so I could let my father rest in peace, a father who had not been a father. My children were watching, I was watching.... this was my life and I was fully present now in it. Not one ounce of breathing room or dignity did I receive in this process.
I will tell you something, the person who is typing this story today- is able to proudly stand tall and strong from that day, that moment in time, I faced my fears. One of my boogeyman, my brother, and it changed me.
Grace came to me, something I never knew before that moment, it was bigger than me.
I  needed that time to heal, because my brother  and I soon had to figure out together every step of the funeral - no one else came forward, months afterward with my mother as well.
I no longer feared him, he was just him, no more no less. I was able to go to lunch with my mom and him, after awhile I chose to no longer be around him, it just didn't feel good. I now feel sorry for him, he is a very sad person.
Our family came together for but a moment with my dad,  then as quickly  literally the moment he was gone- it was done, been that way ever since. Although I have two other sisters, I go separately to see my mother, they will forever be "the girls ,"to my mother, I am just me. When I am away I do better than when I am near  them. I do and have done my best, and will continue to try, but damage is damage.
I now have people who have my back and vice versa, love me for me. It is new,  I take it day by day, do the best I can. I have to let go of the Village I came from, The Village of Betrayals....
so I can be part of this wonderful love that awaits me everyday. These are the things I know, I write because it is all I know what to do,  trying to make some sense of where I come from.
I forgive more and more each and every time- it is a process. I forgive myself for my shortcomings, I try harder, pray for willingness, understanding, less judgement and most of all compassion. I am at the intersection of my life.