I'm reading a book called My Old Man and the Sea. It's an excellent book about a father and son who go around "The Horn" in a 25 foot sailboat called "Sparrow". In it, one of the authors, the son, describes what happened to him emotionally when he decided he had to shoot his own elderly and blind dog rather than have her euthanized. This brought my reading to an instantaneous halt.
The Second Anniversary of Jasper's death passed on May 16th, and even though I cried a lot I kept my feelings to myself and my appetite intact. I ate my whole allotment of chocolate for the week five days early as some sort of consolation. DH came in from outside a few days ago, and I thought he had been sneezing but no; he, tender heart, had came across memories of Jazz in the RV. There was Jazz riding home for the first time, a tiny ball of fuzz, curled up in the passenger's seat, and there were the toys he always played with, his first and favorite was a little devil that he'd chewed to bits but still preferred over all others.
Only two times have I lost my appetite .. one when my mother passed away, and then when Jazzie died.
I had undergone a brutal training as a child specifically to not show - any emotions - no matter what happened anytime but especially at meals. Our terrible father would hit my tiny 2 year old brother hard enough do knock him out of his high chair and give him a black eye, but I wasn't allowed to even react without receiving a beating myself. I learned to keep eating, and to show no emotion. I learned to swallow food almost whole.
My other little brother died when he was five. I know Mother carried that sadness in her heart the rest of her life. I don't know how people survive losing a child. I do remember that Mom became terribly thin. I think I know she felt trapped.
My brother and I talk about things sometimes. We were all good kids who just had a terrible father, and in a time that women had so few choices that it was destructive for them as well. I rejoice that my daughters and I have had choices.
The Second Anniversary of Jasper's death passed on May 16th, and even though I cried a lot I kept my feelings to myself and my appetite intact. I ate my whole allotment of chocolate for the week five days early as some sort of consolation. DH came in from outside a few days ago, and I thought he had been sneezing but no; he, tender heart, had came across memories of Jazz in the RV. There was Jazz riding home for the first time, a tiny ball of fuzz, curled up in the passenger's seat, and there were the toys he always played with, his first and favorite was a little devil that he'd chewed to bits but still preferred over all others.
Only two times have I lost my appetite .. one when my mother passed away, and then when Jazzie died.
I had undergone a brutal training as a child specifically to not show - any emotions - no matter what happened anytime but especially at meals. Our terrible father would hit my tiny 2 year old brother hard enough do knock him out of his high chair and give him a black eye, but I wasn't allowed to even react without receiving a beating myself. I learned to keep eating, and to show no emotion. I learned to swallow food almost whole.
My other little brother died when he was five. I know Mother carried that sadness in her heart the rest of her life. I don't know how people survive losing a child. I do remember that Mom became terribly thin. I think I know she felt trapped.
My brother and I talk about things sometimes. We were all good kids who just had a terrible father, and in a time that women had so few choices that it was destructive for them as well. I rejoice that my daughters and I have had choices.
Much love flying your way...
ReplyDeleteAt least you and your brother are able to talk.
ReplyDeletemy siblings deny that my mother did anything wrong.
I know she did her best, and was overwhelmed at times, but its also true--her best fell short--very short frequently of success.
She beat us with wooden coat hanger, or anything else at hand. --but i can't talk to my siblings, because it was agreed (my mother insisted, and they agreed) It WAS ALL MY FAULT.
I am to blame. and my sainted mother, blameless.
I was not a easy child--but my younger sibling who didn't talk till she was almost 18 months old--spoke all at once in sentences.. (no babble, no single words) her first sentence was
"you G-d damn kids" --a phrase she heard all to often. (as did i, as did my older sister)
Its sad how families are broken--but i am glad you have your brother, you husband, the family you have made for your self--
I found making a loving family helped me heal--my children made me the person i am today--as much as i influenced them.
Love does conquer all.
Thank you both so much. Love does conquer all.
ReplyDeleteHelen. You were a scape goat. It happens in so many families. I'm glad that you found healing in making a loving family around you. May you always feel that love surrounds you.
Rho, thank you for all your sweetness and your kindness. You are a beacon of love.
Love and hugs to you, dear. Many carry that weight all their days and never find a way to turn it to good.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Ellen. I've been doing some hard thinking the last few days. My sister and I are both a lot happier when we are creating something, not matter how silly or simple, so that's a good way to deal with dragons, right?
ReplyDeleteJust keep them busy fire burnishing your bead collection.
hehe