Part 3 Chapter 3

Phone calls from my mother were infrequent. She was in an out of trouble which was not something I understood until I was much older, but what I recall feeling was abandoned. That sick empty feeling when followed by tears leads to the hyperventilation cry. The cry that is uncontrollable and animalistic. It is the feeling that nothing could be worse than that very moment no matter what age you practice it. I do not remember asking where she was or when I would see her, but I can vividly recall the feeling of needing her.

What I would discover 30 years later was that my mother did call. My father played interference until I was about 7 years old with my mother. He would not allow her to speak to me if he suspected she was high. Her tongue was sharp when she was feeling hurt and vulnerable; he did not want to risk this unpredictability when mixed with drugs with his daughter. A meeting was finally planned. My mother was coming to California to visit her little girl. I did not know this would be the last time I would see my mother alive. I was 5 years old and it was the only thing I cared about when I found out she was coming and the days following the short visit.

Oliver and my dad had a lengthy discussion on how this visit would transpire. They did not trust she would not take off with me. They did not trust she would not leave me somewhere while she looked for drugs. So, they told her the three of us would meet in Golden Gate Park. It was a central location, easy for her to find since she was not familiar with the City and sparse enough that they could linger while watching in the shadows. They allowed for a 3 hour visit that was not to leave the park. She decided she could only stay for one day.

Oliver, my dad and I walked through the park. And, then I saw her. It was a dream at first that my eyes needed adjusting to. I looked up at my dad for his approval and for his confirmation. “Go on and see your mother” he said. I ran. I ran fast as I could while her she slowly dropped her purse, knelt down to my height and enveloped me. My 5 year old arms were flung tightly around her neck while she cried.

We walked around a lot. She followed the rules and did not take me out of the park; she did not leave me; she held me as long as her arms would allow. We ate. We played. She chatted with me and she allowed me to feel like a little girl with her mother. I was as happy as I could remember and I did not want her to leave. She took me to get my face painted by a local artist in the park. I picked a rainbow with two clouds; it was very 80′s of me. The time moved by both slow and fast. When you are 5 everything seems to be in slow motion because things are still new. But, there is feeling of activities stopping too soon and my mother was getting ready to leave. I saw Oliver and my dad walk up. My mom told me it was time for her to go. I refused to let her go. A tantrum ensued and I could not breathe I was so upset. She kept telling me it was okay but she was crying too. My intuition though only 5 knew I would never see her again.

When we arrived home I was inconsolable. Actually, I was allowed to sit in the front with my parents because I was so upset and they did not know what to do. Pandora’s box of yearning for my mother had been opened and that emptiness would stay with me for 20 years.

After 3 days my dad finally would not take no for an answer on removing my cheek painted rainbow. I felt like if he washed it off my mother would be removed too. The wash rag stung but not nearly as bad as my heart ached.

Oliver and my father did the right thing in protecting me. My mother did the right thing in letting me go. But, how do you explain all of this to a child. The truth is that you don’t and you hope you provide enough for your child to understand when they get older.

To be continued……………

Happy Birthday!

To one of my dad’s: I send to you the most loving beautiful birthday wishes from your doting daughter. Thank you for being my rock and my compass in life. You are more than any daughter deserves and I love you.

Part 2 Chapter 1

Off my dad went to California and off my mom went in the abyss of drug abuse. My memories from this period are post cards. They are quick snap shots of scenes some of which I would prefer to forget. These post cards are filled in with tales told by family members during times in which young girls should have been in bed and not eavesdropping on adults. My mother was trying. She was trying to keep it together and trying to be a mother. But, who could expect someone still trying to recover from their parents dying when she was not even 10 years old only to be separated from her brother and sisters; sent to be raised by her strict religious aunt and uncle in Texas who were a far cry from the freedom encouraged by her parents who were no longer present to protect her from herself. My mother was a suffering soul and not even I was the salve she needed. She was just 23 years old.

She was leaving me with people I knew and did not know. She would tell them it would just be for one night; two weeks later she would return. I was 2 years old. I recall feeling extreme abandonment when she would leave me. In retrospect it was a worry that she would never come back; maybe I was a little fortune teller. I was often left with various family members, so there was a happiness being around my cousins and feeling protected from the rough edges of the neighborhood that surrounded me. Eventually after I spent many nights tuned months at my dad’s youngest sister’s house, word got back to my dad’s mother that I was not being cared for. My dad was her favorite of her three children. While she was still furious at my grandfather for leaving her for his mistress, my dad looked just like him and for this she cherished him. He doted on her and this translated to me being the favorite grandchild. My grandmother called my dad, now in California, and insisted he take back his roll as parent. My dad was scared. He was in a new relationship and did not know how is lover would take my grandmothers insistence that a child be moved into the home. 

What my dad did not know was before he moved down his lover had 2 options before he was asked to move in with him. He also had a lover in Philadelphia and he was trying to decide who he should ask to come live with him. The deciding factor was me. When my dad said he had a daughter his lover felt it could be his opportunity to have or be a part of family; something he had always wanted but because of his inability to bed with a woman and laws at that current time it was not something likely to happen. And to add a little spice to this decision, the lover went to see a psychic who told him that a little girl with blue eyes, big cheeks and blonde hair would be coming into his life. The decision was made and my dad was invited to California. 

The unexpected reaction from the lover was not something anyone would have anticipated. Normally a very pensive man, Oliver, made an instant decision that yes he would like for me to brought down to live with them as a family. And so another decision was made; another decision my mother was not yet aware of. A plan was created because my mother would undoubtably disagree to have me move away from her. But, then again my dad was never quite good at predicting my mother’s reactions. My grandmother was to come take me the next time my mother left me with my dad’s youngest sister. She would take me across the Canadian border and then I would stay at her house for 6 months while my new house was prepared (and so my two dad’s could have their last freedoms as a new couple in a house to themselves). 

To be continued………..