Emotion, Memories, Questions, Love, and Hope

Every year for the past 14 years
I have woken up on
 November 6th
knowing that day will be a day filled with 

My heart tugs
 because I didn't put a sentiment in the paper 
and I didn't get out to my dad's grave.

I'm bewildered
 because just 4 days after that on the 10th
 I will be thinking about
 my eldest brothers passing just 4 years ago.

I want to call my mom
but life from her perspective
I am disfellowshipped
I am an appostate.
No longer in touch no contact.

It astonishes me
 the emotion
 and questions
that come with being raised in a cult.
Especially ones regarding death.
Heaven and Hell.

I don't sit there long in the 
emotions and questions.
Instead I embrace
the memories 
and the love.

There are many memories
 I can draw upon as a child regarding family
 times that were good.
I didn't know any different, so all was good.
We loved the way we were taught to love.
So it seemed o.k. 
It seemed normal.
We had our family banter and sarcasm's.
We had our nick-names and share of family dramas.

When dad passed 
 all the chaos that surrounded that event
Jehovah Witnesses stepping in and pushing aside family.
Brother fighting against brother
wanting dad's things.
Claiming it each as his own.

In those moments
I quietly slipped into the entry way
 from the garage to the house
and grabbed one of my dad's flannels. 
The one I remember him in all the time.
It is blue and red.
He wore it to the hospital the day I had Chelsea.
He wore it every time I went to the house.
He had it on every time I hugged him.

I can go to it today and in some
mysterious way
it still holds his scent.
I love you Dad!

When the time came
 that my oldest brother passed.
The same chaos's rose up once again.

This time I was sad in a different way.
I didn't know my brother.
We were 16 years apart.
He the oldest brother out of 5.
And me the 6th. The baby girl.

He was married and out of the house
before memories came into play.
But on that sad day as we laid him to rest
family sat and talked and reminisced.
I was told in those moments
how much he talked about me 
through out his life.
His baby sister-Tweety.

My nick name given to me by him.
How he loved to take me as a baby
 and buy me pretty dresses and dress me up.
How he loved his baby sister.
Things I never knew until it was to late.
I love you Randy!

It was too late because a cult has ripped our family to pieces.

And all the love I have
 and want to give
May never be expressed.
May never be relayed in a way I would so love to give it.

But there is always hope.
And that is what I hang on to each and everyday.

But By God!

But by God
 and it is only through him 
his love 
his mercy
 his grace

that I love!

1 comment:

  1. Powerfully said. I will always believe that the best is yet to come. It applies.