The Girl Who Lived

My name is Mary Lee Grover, and this is how I choose to live my life freely, without anyone else’s interpretation of what my life should be. I think I may be getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning when I was young.   My parents were very loving. They cared for me; I knew that it wouldn’t last forever. My grandparents would tell me that they loved me every day until they passed away. I didn’t know how to feel, everything was happening so fast after they passed, and I was still young, some would say too young to understand.  My parents were the kind of people that would try to make me laugh even though there was nothing to laugh at. Then it happened, the thing I never thought would ever happen to my family, I know that seems naïve, but my parents always promised me that they would be there for me forever.   I didn’t understand why they weren’t here to make me happy, or to make me laugh. I just wanted to know where they are. I cried harder. I didn’t know any of the people that were surrounding me. My parents were nowhere to be seen. Then I went into foster care. It was a gloomy day in September, it was 2003 when I was five, and I had no idea what was going on. No one would tell me anything, I was confused, no one would talk to me. When I screamed and kicked someone finally told me what was going on, she told me that my parents couldn’t be with me anymore. What I didn’t know was that; my mom was in a car accident, and my dad had to go away for a long time. I didn’t understand, where was my dad? Why wasn’t he here to make me laugh? I started to cry. I wanted my dad.  When I finally stopped crying, the caseworker was honest with me and told me that my mom went to a better place, I didn’t know what that meant, I wanted to ask more questions but my parents told me not to talk to strangers. They told me to pack a bag, nothing too big, but enough to last a while. I didn’t want to do any of this, but I did, when they told me that they were going to take me to a better place. All I had to do was get in the car. I didn’t want to get in the car with these people, but they told me that my dad told them to get me. I didn’t understand why he would send these people that I don’t know that come and get me. He had a lot of friends that could come and pick me up, to bring me to where he and mommy was. When they finally got me out of the house, and into the car, I started to cry again. When we drove down the street and away from the only home I ever knew, I cried even harder.