The Beginning - part II

At the beginning time my sense of my family was a tight unit.  We spent a lot of quality time together and I know that both my brother and I were nothing but loved, encouraged, taught by good people right and wrong, manners, how to cross the street and tell time, and oh yeah, we might have been a little bit spoiled - we had a whole room of toys.

I remember our home, which was just a second floor apartment, but so much more.  My brother and I had our own rooms which were good sized and my parents room was huge.  The kitchen was big and sunny and we had a cat clock whose eyes and tail moved.

I can admit that I had a bit of jealousy as any kid would have when a new baby arrives, especially when where there was one now there is two.  The oldest always gets a little less attention and my brother was so darn cute - the little buddha with a head full of curly hair and a great smile.

My parents dealt with sibling rivalry by getting us boxing gloves and we had a big dining room with no table and a huge oriental rug which was our 'ring' my father still laughs remembering our matches.  Fear of loss is a good exorcizor of jealousy, I remember once my brother was tagging along and came next door to my best friend's house for whatever reason, we never really hung out inside those days but my brother was there and we came down the back stairs and he fell and split his chin open requiring stitches.  I felt horrible that he was hurt and after that jealousy no more.

We went fishing with my Dad and Mom and they had friends and we all visited as a unit.  The adults were cool and hip and listened to music.  There was always music and concerts and dancing and laughter and life was really, really good in my little brain.  I had no idea that my whole life could ever, would ever explode into a kazillion pieces.  It was not in my scope of experiences or realizations.

After he left he told me to take care of my brother and all I ever did was try to be good and not be a problem.  As I said earlier, the times were important.  The new wave was divorce, single moms, latch key kids.  I in no way ever blamed my mom for not being there, I understood that she had to work and take care of us.  Women did not have the support when all hell breaks loose like they do these days.  Remember I mentioned social changes that we take for granted, well, back then there was nothing to take for granted because there was no help.

My mom struggled but strove to keep us with a roof and food and the basic necessities.  We were adaptable and change was just one of the names of the game.  Cold cereal for breakfast, Tang instead of orange juice and a Mom who could barely cook!  I don't even remember eating dinner as a family after my Dad left during these years. Like I said, time is funny and memories are few and far between.  Things become normal and routine.

At some point my adventurous dad was having his adventures and broke his neck in an auto accident when someone ran the light.  Life changing to hear that your Dad was in the hospital and probably going to die.  I was under 8 at that point.  Time had become something of a blur during these years.

Remember that hospital within my boundaries?  Well, that is where my Dad was - two streets away in a bed that flipped and having to wear glasses to see people when he was facing the floor.  My Mom's mom gave me the news one fine day in the Friendly Store.

To say my blood ran cold through my veins would not be an exaggeration.  It would be the first of many times I felt that feeling.  Quite unpleasant it is.  Almost as bad, I would say, but not quite as pieces of one's heart breaking.

Now would be a good time to point out that crying was a sign of weakness and rule number one was only babies cry, so no crying allowed.  No display of emotions were really acceptable in this land of family.  Which before my parents split up wasn't really a place that I do recall too well.  The only time I recall my Dad even over there was when my brother got hit by a truck on the causeway on Narragansett Ave midway between the cottage and the store.

These two families did not mingle and were complete opposites.  Polar opposites.  I don't really have too many memories of either sets of grandparents before my parents parted ways.  After that they played very important roles in my life.

One more place of importance during these changing times, even before my Dad got smoked in the car accident was the church at the opposite end of my street, but which was close to my school.  At some point in time I found myself walking up those enormous marble stairs leading up to the massive sets of Oak doors which even at 6 to me were beautiful.

I don't know how my mini self even managed to open one of those massive doors by myself, or what gave me the courage to walk the stairs to enter that sacred and holy place.  Me being me, I did it.  I entered this deadly silent sanctuary of St. Charles Catholic Church.  No one was there. No one stopped me.  I walked in and crossed myself with the holy water and one by one read the stations of the cross, examined the beautiful stained glass windows and the Altar.  I absorbed the peace of the place.  I was in awe and comforted at the same time.

My parents didn't push religion but all of my grandparents were religious and went to church weekly.  Church was not a thing in our household no rituals for us.  We were a non traditional family for sure.  The beginning of the end of the family structure - the bane of our society and I can tell you from experience there are not too many good things about that situation although I did not know that at the time.

It was during this time that I lost my voice and really turned myself inward.  I was a little girl, all alone, lost, forgotten and with no explanation and no idea what happened, why it happened how long it was going to last or anything at all other than home at school during the week in the 'city' and off to the 'country' for the weekend either at the Lake or else at Gram and Pops waiting for Dad and no one ever asked me if I was okay or what was going on or anything and I waited patiently for my Dad to show up.  No one even noticed that I stopped talking and nobody even cared.  It was so easy to be invisible, but it was so difficult at the same time

Oh yeah, that hospital which was right down the street where me and my best friend had been going to weekly look for change, the same one that my Dad was at, and by this point it was the forbidden dad.  Once he was that close there was no stopping me.  My best friend, my little brother and a box full of kittens found my Dad.  How, I have no idea.  That automatic radar was in high gear that day.

These days two young children with a younger child and a box full of kittens, unaccompanied by an adult with no clear idea where they are going would have been stopped and someone would have been called.  I would have been in so much trouble with my mother and grounded the rest of my life.

 The punishment for my Dad not being the fatherly and supporting Dad was the threat that you cannot see your children. Which wasn't really a threat to a man, especially a man who seemed to forget that he had children until he showed up at his Mother's house and his children just happened to be there visiting --- oops.

Sometimes I got lucky and he was there and then he would recite the 'fairy tale' from earlier to me and I would feel my heart fill with love and faith and trust and hope.  I believed in the happy ending.  Ya gotta believe in something, those who believe in nothing have no HOPE.

That my friends is its own kind of hell which I do not encourage any of you to feel for yourselves, and that I am sure will be a story for another day.  Alas, the hour is late and the day has been long.  My weary head my be empty enough to attempt to try sleep for the second time this long and painful eve.