From Losses and Anger to Love

Chapter 1: Loss

One dreary day, having finally recovered from a bad flu, I walked around my house talking to people I was barely familiar with. I found my sister, who was really all my comfort in the world, and slowly warmed up to the others in the room. As "Mom" was taking care of me and trying to help me feel more comfortable, I looked at her and said, "My mommy was shooted." Blunt, I know, but I was also only 4 years old. Sometimes children are more comfortable with blunt and true statements than adults. "Mom" was shocked; she had no idea what to say, where to begin. Yes, my mother had been shot just a few weeks prior, and I had moved in with my half-sisters' family. Their dad had remarried, and they thought it would be kind to keep me with my sisters.

Where was my father in all of this? Oh, he was the one who had shot my mother. A few days after I made this statement, my grandmother died. My circle of safety was rapidly shrinking, and I felt very lost, alone, and betrayed. to make things more complex, "Mom" had her first grandbabies (twins) about the time My grandmother died. Not only were my family disappearing, but now the preschooler of the family took back seat to the new babies. Frankly, I'm sure it was difficult taking in a preschooler with all the drama and chaos in the family, but there also seemed to be a divide between those "Mom" allowed in her life and those with whom she shared blood. I never had her blood, and I was often left to entertain myself, play by myself, find things to do so as not to bother her. She never saw me as her blood, and there was always an unspoken division between us.

Meanwhile, I'm dealing with the orphan thing, and no one really seems comfortable discussing a single Mom being murdered, particularly when they were close to the victim. More important in our case, though, was that no one wanted to discuss the deep secrets of who My father was and how many people he had hurt in his few years.

I invite you to see through my eyes an *almost* objective look into who my father was, why he was allowed to hurt so many, and how closed adoption affected my life. This is my true life story, and I hope some of you will take something meaningful from it, whatever its significance may be for you.