When Mom died, life sure took a turn for the worse. I took over the roll of the mom and did my best to take care of my dad and brother. I was 13 year old, I was in 7th grade, I had no idea what I was doing or what was going to happen. I think I might have blocked a lot of this time out. I remember going back to school that Monday and pretending nothing happened. I didn't know how to act. I didn't tell anyone what happened. I didn't know how to bring it up. It's not like you can just say, "Hey so, my mom died. Did you study for your history test?" I did the only think I knew how to do, I acted normal. I acted like I did the week before.
My dad pulled me out early on Monday to make arrangements for the funeral. When he was waiting for me to meet him in the office, he informed my school counselor what had happened. My counselor then told all of my teachers and then everyone started finding out. School kind of was weird for a while. Strangers would come up and tell me they were sorry for my loss and blah blah blah. I really didn't know how to react. So I was polite and thanked them. As time when on life seemed to be getting back in to a groove. I remember laughing with my friends and thinking.... Should I be laughing? I am supposed to be sad. I felt kind of guilty. But soon I realized that my mom wouldn't want me to be this way. She would want me to make the most of my life and do everything I can to have the best life possible.
This is where life changed again.... many ups and downs, goods and bads.
The Summer on 1999, happened in a blur. There is much bad that happened throughout the next 7 years that I would like to skip over it for now. I imagine I will go back to it someday, because it has a lot to do with who I am today. Let's just say for the most part my life was hell. Now don't get me wrong, not everything was horrible. I would say a good 90% was.
I will give you a quick briefing of those 7 years. Neighbor lady, Cheryl (who had a daughter, Shari, that I was friends with), came down, as she puts it, check on my brother and I. She live across the street and up 2 houses. Her and my dad started talking and became friends. Long story short, 9 months later that's January1, 2000 Dad married Cheryl. I was heartbroken. I know the only reason he did it was because he couldn't be alone. She refused to live in our house because she thought it would be weird for us to see all her stuff where my mom's stuff used to be. So we began to pack up out things and move them up the street. Her house has 3 bedrooms, she had one, Shari had one and the other was empty. There was a debate over who would get the spare bedroom and who would have a makeshift room out of the living room. I said I should get the room because Richard was almost 18 and would be moving out soon, but they disagreed. I got the makeshift room with a Styrofoam wall and he got the bedroom. Life went from going and doing whatever we wanted to hardcore rules. Richard didn't have the easiest time with that, so shortly after we moved in, his stuff was put in garbage bags and put on the front lawn. He moved in with my Grandma Miller (Mom's mom). A normal person would have me move into the bedroom and turn the makeshift room back into a living, but not in this house. That bedroom was turned into the spare room a.k.a. Dad's room. Yup they didn't always sleep in the same room. So, those next years, I lived in a really tiny room, rarely got to talk or see my brother or my Mom's side of the family.
So, finally bringing me to the begining of March 2006. My friend Sean, who I worked with at Marie Callendar's, decided to find an apartment together. No, we were not a couple, we were no more than friends. We found a cozy 2 bedroom apartment we could afford and we set at date for move in. I was terrified to tell my parents. I had no idea how to it, they were scary people. So I wrote them a note. I express best with text. Well, needless to say, I was right, they didn't take it well.
Stay tuned! Part 4 next
(Wonder how many parts this is gonna make. LOL!)
1 comment:
I'm sure if certain people read this part, they'll throw a fit and say that's not how it really happened. Without sugar coating it, you survived hell. You lived under a dictator that was bipolar and could hold her own next to Hitler. I'm surprised that you turned out the way you did. You are a beautiful, loving and caring woman. That "dictator" should have no credit in raising you whatsoever. I'm so glad that you got out when you did. I know there are a few strings attached because they refuse to let go, but you are definitely in a much better place now then you have ever been. You are surrounded by people who love you for you. I wish I could erase those 7 years of torture and heartache, but I can't. It made you a stronger person and you now know how you'll raise your children in the future. I'm sorry I never got the chance to meet your mom. She sounded like an amazing person. I'm sure she's looking down from heaven and is so proud of you and your accomplishments. Love you!
Post a Comment