Losing Stability (5)

So I will pick up where my journey left off (seclusion post). My dad had left me there, with them, and there is a chunk of time that I was too little to remember and we have no clue about because she had refused contact with everyone that mattered.

But when I was three, my sister was born. She was born two months early, and even now my family isn’t sure exactly why. Its not that there is no explanation, but because there are so many possibilities that no one is quite sure. My mom had been doing drugs throughout her entire pregnancy, was not eating right, had not seen a doctor, and had taken substantial beatings on a regular basis. Of course my sister, who they named Jessica, was in no shape to come home from the hospital when my mom was released. Throughout my mom’s hospital stay I stayed with my grandparents. It was a moment of peace for me I assume, a place where I didn’t feel scared or abandoned. I was attached to my grandpa’s hip and he loved me to death. He was my only stability. My grandma had started drinking and it was becoming an issue. She couldn’t handle what her family was becoming. My grandpa was a truck driver and she was often left alone. Her oldest daughter was recently married with a new baby, born a year before my sister, and was too busy starting her own life. My mom was a drug addict married to a felon. Her youngest daughter had just become a single parent a few short months before my sister was born and her youngest son had just come back from overseas with a pregnant wife she was not warned about.

My mom was released from the hospital and came to my grandparents to pick me up, bringing John with her. He was not welcome at their home but she didn’t seem to care. She wanted to collect my things and take  me home but my grandpa was hesitant to let me go. He was torn because he ultimately wanted to help his daughter but didn’t think I would survive the abuse he assumed I was living. With my grandma passed out drunk on the couch he argued with my mom and John. He wanted my mom to get help, he wanted John to leave, and wanted me to stay with him until she had gotten the help she needed. Mom blamed grandpa for all that was wrong in her life, grabbed me and stormed out. My aunt showed up shortly after to console my grandpa. She says that it was the only time she had ever seen him cry. He thought he would never see me or my mom again. He told my aunt that he was going to talk to my grandma the next day about contacting child services but wanted to wait until she she was sober. He never got that chance.

The next morning he had a heart attach at home and by the time the paramedics arrived he had already passed. Some of my family blames my mom and the rest blame John. I have two actual memories of my grandpa that I hope never fade. They both involve me sitting on his lap while he’s feeding me oatmeal. I love that man. I am the only family member that visits his grave regularly, and I was only three when he passed. My grandma has never been there and neither has my uncle. I will forever be heartbroken over losing him and continue to wonder how things would have been if he had not died. He wrote me a poem while I stayed with him that week. It was recently found in a storage unit and given back to me by my uncle. I cried.

I dream a dream
Now constantly
Of feelings now gone
That once were free

Of days of youth
That now are gone
Some battles lost
Some victories won

Of friendships
Found day to day
And others
Lost along the way

Of distant lands
Unknown to me
Things of beauty
I’ll never live to see

But of all these
The thing most dear
Is my tiny granddaughter
Whom I hold most dear


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Category : Life, Reflections
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