Ashes to Ashes

Rest in Peace Grandma.
I'll always love you.

I made this!

It's All About Me! by Aunt Kelly Roberts | Make Your Own Book

Living With Regrets

My sister just called me at work and told me that Grandma died this morning.  It's too late now to tell her how much she meant to me and how I always loved her.  Grandma was always special to me, even if she wasn't really the same Grandmother in real life as she was in my memories.  I know that our family didn't just get screwed up in my generation.  This is something that has been handed down through the generations - and I know my Grandmother did unspeakable things to her children like my mother did to me.  Somewhere along the line my Grandmother is at least partially to blame for my own mother being so screwed up.  Don't we have such a lovely family?

However, I have very fond memories of my Grandmother and times we spent together. I have two of her paintings hanging in my house.  I have all of her letters and the birthday cards she sent to me when I was a kid.  I will miss her even though the last time I talked to her was 16 years ago.  Where did the time go?  When Grandma fell and was placed in the hospital I was making arrangements to fly out to see her.  It was only after numerous calls that I found out my family didn't want me there.  I should have stood up to them and insisted they let me see her.  Why did I listen to them?  I shouldn't have caved in to the pressure, curled in a ball and felt sorry for myself.  I should have done what I knew was right and to hell with what everyone else thought.  I could have made this right...
but now it's too late.

How Low Can You Go?

I don’t know why anything my family does surprises me.  I was on Facebook checking out what everyone was up to when I noticed a comment from my sister to my Uncle who lives in Oregon.  She said I am trying to figure out how to meet you and the family in Las Vegas soon. Hope to see you! Love you!

 Well, Bruce lives in Oregon and the only family I know that lives in Vegas is my grandmother and cousin.  So, if she’s seeing Bruce, and the family, there is something going on.  I sent Bruce’s wife an email (she was online and would reply faster).  I asked her what my sister was talking about and if the family was getting together.  She said they were all getting together for a family reunion in June since my Grandmother is getting so frail.  She told me to talk to my mom to get all the details.

Of course, I didn’t know anything about any of this.  I would think if my family was going to let me know they probably would have already, especially since I’ve spoken to my sister recently.  I don’t think they even plan to mention it to me. 

My first thought/daydream was to bust up in there unannounced.  Wait until everyone was there and call attention to myself.  Then plead for my mother to tell everyone the truth and that she lied all these years by telling everyone to stay away from me because I had “problems”.  That she told people those things because she didn’t want them to talk to me and find out the truth.  Of course, my girlfriend pointed out the reality of the situation to me, one I already knew but was trying to ignore… These people have been poisoned by my loving family for so many years that anything I did or said would be discredited anyway.

I tell you, it hurt me and at the same time made me mad.  While I was crying over it I also felt like punching someone repeatedly until I was too tired to move.  Why is it still this way and why do I still care?  You’d think I would have had enough by now.

Daddy Loves Me

     

One of my first memories of my stepfather is of him hitting me in the face and bloodying my nose.  I wasn't even old enough to go to school yet and my sister was a toddler.  I must have been around five years old when this happened.  I don’t remember what I did to deserve the punishment.  What I remember was being in the bathroom surrounded by bloodied toilet paper because my nose was gushing.  My baby sister appeared in the doorway, saw the blood and started screaming.  My stepfather came rushing down the hallway and scooped her into his arms.  When he noticed me in my bloody mess he put my sister down, picking me up instead.  He carried me to his recliner and held me on his lap, stroking my hair and back, hugging me tightly.  Over and over again he said he was sorry and promised never to hit me again.  I believed him – he really did love me.  But... I was wrong.  He lied. 

Who loves you baby?

My Loving Step-Father

When I was a child I used to dream for the day I could tell my step-father’s children what an evil man he was.  I wanted them to know that they were better off not knowing him and to be thankful that they never knew him as children, like I did.  He would pay One Day, I swore to myself.  I would tell everyone the truth.  

About a year ago my sister Tammee found her other half-sisters.  It was all kittens and rainbows for Tammee, and I was happy for her.  As an adult I had decided that it would be wrong for me to tell these grown women how evil their father was, unless they asked me what it was like growing up with him.  

They were all so happy, the long-lost sisters and their loving father.  There were rainbows everywhere. 

So, trying to do the right thing, I introduced myself on Facebook and thanked them for making my sister so happy.

I got a reply telling me that I need to put things in the past, where they belonged.  

WHAT?? 

Oh... I get it.  I understand now.  My sister, the one I grew up with, the one I have suffered for and put myself out for – over and over again, has been busy telling stories about my “issues” again.

Did you think I’d tell my stories about my life?  You were wrong.  I have been silent all these years, carrying this burden on my own – only sharing it with a few close friends.  I thought I was doing the right thing, protecting my family from my evil stories, because that is what THEY wanted.  I found out Loving Family, that this whole time – All These Years, you have been telling your own little stories – discrediting me before people even meet me, out of fear that I would tell the truth.  You have poisoned people against me before I even met them.  I never had a chance did I?  Guess what guys – you don’t win.  Guess who’s letting your skeletons out of the closet?  I’m not ashamed of mine.  Are you?  Here’s an idea… Why don’t we all tell the fucking truth for once?