SHE KNEW

 

It's kind of amazing the things that a person is able to look at once a person passes away.  Last Wednesday hit me more than hard. I was 13 and expected to take care of so much. I was expected to take care of his every need There are so many things to figure out to think through and understand.  Then there are things that hit you, and there aren't even any words to explain the feelings. The betrayal, the hurt, the fact that I cannot even begin to imagine what she might have been thinking.  And it hit me.  It hit me more than hard.  I was shaking and trying to understand the why and how ?  I am so hurt, and more than angry.  I was just a little girl, there was no other choice that I could have made, nothing I could have done different.  She was the adult; she had the choices.  She chose not to make the right choice for her children.  She left us to fend for ourselves knowing that he was a monster...  

She knew and she left me with him. 

She knew and she walked on that plane never looking back. 

She knew and enjoyed her time on the beach. 

She knew and left us anyway. 

She knew and brought me home a jean jacket. 

This was the trip that I remember so very clear. This was the trip that covered the statue if limitations. This was the trip that I remember so clear and yet there are simple things that I don't remember at all. This was the trip that his back went out and he ended up in my bed, because he couldn't be in the waterbed with his back out.  He didn't even get out of bed to use the restroom.  I wonder where I slept since he was in my bed.  I wonder where my brother went.  I wonder why the Dr told my mother not to come home and care for him?  I wonder why I was expected to care for him. I wonder why I don't remember her calling and checking to make sure that we were ok.  I wonder if she thought of us at all, that trip to the beach.  

While she was resting on the beach, while she was getting a break from the monster, some time away, I was suffering.  I was expected to take care of his urinal that was there beside my bed.  I can remember thinking he was crazy, when he asked me to clean it out.  I laughed and told him no.  He also laughed at first, then said it again.  Again, I told him no, kind of joking.  Until all of the sudden it wasn't a joke anymore, he was serious.  His beaty eyes burning a hole right through me. I wish that I remembered his words.  I wish that I remembered his exact words.  All of the sudden, nothing else mattered, but I was expected I climb on my bed,

my own bed and make him happy.  I don't understand how expecting me to take care of his urinal ended up with me having to climb on my own bed and make him happy.  I don't remember his words, but I knew what was expected of me.  I remember scraping my knee, and really getting cut, I was worried about getting blood on my covers, he cared about nothing.  And I climbed on the bed and did what I had to do.  I hate that I knew what was expected, I hate that it was in my bed.  I hate that I don't remember his words telling me too, somehow that would have been easier for me.  If he yelled or threatened, or something. But I don't remember, I just climbed on my bed and did what I was supposed to do.

While my mother was enjoying her time on the beach, I had to care for my fathers every need. Physical, sexual and mental.  She knew and she left me with him.  She knew and left me with him.  I remember my yellow room, the curtains with the little girl with the big hat watering the flowers. My shar-pei posters, my scarped knee still bleeding.  No one cared about me.  Noone cared that I knew what he wanted. No one cared that I was home with a monster.  No one cared that my little knee was bleeding and I needed someone to care for me. I just needed a band-aid, someone to notice.

I heart your heart.