ABNORMALITIES

Most people do not realize how wonderful they have it. We take for granted the people, places and events that are supposed to happen to us. It's easy to do, especially in our society. We are supposed to have loving parents, a warm home and celebrate our families. This isn't always the case.

I feel I am more tuned into the parent/child relationships I witness because of my childhood. There is no denying that mothers and fathers are to love their children. After all, they are the ones who brought them into this world. They are the ones older, more experienced and wiser.

What happens when this does not take place? There are at least six different points of view, with six different paths, and six different lives. Personally speaking, I am one of those paths. Five of the siblings had the same abnormality in life, but not all have overcome and learned to live with this disability. My life is different from any of my siblings, though closest to one brother of mine who is very special in my life. The other three siblings may as well live in China. For the life of me, I can not even try to comprehend why, but only that it is the path they have each chosen.

The youngest brother (my half-brother) was the fortunate son, who had a different mother. He was the only one who had unconditional love in his home while growing up. A good mother can make a nightmare into a sweet dream, just by soothing the child. I think he realizes he had it good, and has shown empathy towards us. I'm glad he had better. He's since tried to reunite, and I should take him up on it. Life is short and we both loved Dad (my real father) so very much.

So the man who raised me (my stepfather), someone I thought was our Savior, ended up like my mother, filled with bitterness and bigotry. I couldn't hang on any longer. I couldn't hear what I had heard for so many years. I couldn't be called names, nor witness my children being in the line of fire. The memories of years of abuse have long been put into a corner, to sit and collect dust. The example left for me was not what to be, but rather what not to be. It certainly is sad to know people leave this Earth this way. Wondering if there is a Heaven is only part of it. To know you are leaving Earth with hatred, instead of love, is something I cannot and will not ever comprehend.

The rich man is gone now, a week ago last Friday. My brother and I did not make any attempt to say good-bye at the funeral services. It didn't take death to know he no longer heard us, no longer saw our tears, no longer could yell or strike us. He didn't love in life, and we had both said our goodbyes a few years ago. There seemed to be an unexpected newfound peace we weren't going to be hurt any longer. We were not going to make a showing for the others or for the heap of money left behind, but stand straight with what priests, therapists and true loved ones have told us over the years. No amount of love from us helped - it seemed to make the two of them angrier we were happy.

It is not for us to try to change the monsters. This is not the child's job to the parent. We are not responsible for their actions and beliefs. As adults and parents of our own children, it is up to us to dispell the bitterness, the past pain and the greed, and replace it with forgiveness, breaking the chain we have carried with us for so long.

My mother was never mentally well. We all knew this at a very young age. It worsened as we all got older. Now she is in and out of lucidity, but has yet to become a softer human being, still filled with malice. I find myself envious, at times, of friends with wonderful, loving relationships with their mothers. My heart aches a bit, because I have never had this and I thought this was supposed to be given to every child -- a loving mother and father. Parents to want the best for their children. Parents to love their children unconditionally. Parents to comfort and not to scare their children. Parents to love you, with no brutality or pain.

Again, I've learned by example of what not to be. I thank God for giving me the tools to realize the difference, and the kind people in my life's path to help me raise children so differently than my parents raised their children.

Still the sadness for him is like a dark cloud overhead. I've dissected it in my mind at great length. The sadness is separate from any grief. I have experienced and know what grief is. It saddens me because I feel sorry for him. Wherever he is headed, he must face the real Truth - not just what he thought was the truth. I believe he had to face complete honesty on his Judgment Day. It's just sad people have to live and die this way. I can't pretend to know what he said to God. I have to still believe there is good, there is forgiveness, there is love - even and especially at this moment for him. It's just sad.

My vow to my children has been reconstituted. No matter how old they or I get, we will be a family, protected in my little dome of comfort and love. None of them will have first hand experience with the "step" syndrome, nor will any of them ache for love from me. They will all know they are my children, and loved unconditionally, no matter where their lives take them, and without any doubts.

It seems so simple just to love.