With each week that passed his time away increased. With each absent day hope that he would stay away longer increased. For so many years our family had been between a really big ugly rock and an even uglier hard place. He wouldn't leave us and Mom couldn't leave him after all the threats he made. He said straight up he would make sure she never saw us again. He would take us away, across the boarder where we would never be found. Sometimes threatening to kill her or us. I heard the warnings and I believed him. I'm sure Mom did too because she never left.
This voluntary absence of his was like a refreshing gift with sharp edges. Moments in time we could let our guard down and be ourselves. Days we could look back on and remember with a kind of gratitude for the solace. I can't say it was a time without fear. It was difficult to know when he might return and what mood he would be in when he got back. We never let our guard down long enough to truly enjoy the time. I longed for a time when we could be ourselves without the sharp edge of fear invading otherwise peaceful moments.
Monday, August 17, 2009
My memories
I saw her fly against the wall, heard the sickening crunch and watched as she slid to the shag carpet lifeless and small. He sat on the floor next to her, pulled her on to his lap and gently cradled her in his arms. For a moment I thought I saw a glimpse of remorse or had I only imagined it. She looked so tiny and helpless in his arms. She wasn't bleeding. Was she breathing? I couldn't tell. Help arrived and he ordered them away. Who had called them? Why did they leave? They just left her there!
After my sister began to stir he got crazier than ever. He blamed her for bringing attention to his violence. He kicked her out of the house and told her not to return. Mom hugged her and told her to go to the backyard and wait. A while later he was settled in the den in front of the TV half asleep. Mom went to the back door to find her as she lay huddled cold and scared in a chair. Mom went in and made sure he didn't notice the sound of the door over the TV as my sister crept into her room. Grabbing a pillow and blanket she lay hidden on the floor shivering behind her bed. We couldn't comfort her, I wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be okay but I couldn't. I didn't know if anything was ever going to be okay. Worse would be if he were to notice we were both missing. He would search for us. If he found us with her in the house things would have gotten worse.
As I write these memories I am reminded that they are my memories of events of that night. My mother, brother and sister may have very different memories of the same event but I don't care. My sister would tell you my mother never protected us. She has even told people my mother was abusive too. Mom did protect us. At times putting herself in great peril. Mom asked for help to escape his abuse and was advised to keep the family together and to do her wifely duties.
Years later I asked my father about that night. I had always wondered why he didn't let the paramedics check her out as she lay unconscious in his arms and he said the event never happened. He said he would never have hurt any of us like that. Hours after his denial that he had ever hurt any of us he claimed that hitting us wasn't abuse. It was okay to beat your children. "I was beaten and it never hurt me" he said. I have no idea if he was beaten or not. I am certain he had to lie to himself over and over in order to live with himself. Surely he needed to do something to bury the guilt or how could he have ever lived with himself. Was he evil enough that the acts he committed didn't cause him to lay awake at night unable to sleep? Did he ever waste a minute of his pitiful life in remorse or regret?
A few days ago my mother and I were talking about his abusive ways and she remembered this event. Her memories were very close to my own except my strongest memory is of my sisters lifeless body in his arms and later her huddled and shivering on the floor with nobody to rub warmth into her limbs or give her the comfort she needed. Moms strongest memories of that night were of standing between them when the fight began and him breaking her nose yet again. She worried that night about my sister after he tossed her out fearing she would come to harm by somebody other than my father before she could safely get her safely back in the house.
I find it interesting that nobody can remember who called the paramedics that night. Mom forgot my sister was out cold and thought it was her. I thought it was Mom. Maybe it was a neighbor or my brother or maybe my sister had called before he hurt her sensing it would be very bad! Perhaps one of us blocked it out fearing he would know who called!
My sister kept well hidden until the next day when he left again. Days later when he returned I don't remember him making the big fuss I feared he would when he saw her in the house. I thought we were all in for it for sure. Could he have silenced all of us? Would it have even been possible for him to make us all disappear?
As I think back to my fathers lack of memory and his half admissions I wonder if that is why my sister and I never agree on how things were. Have her memories changed to help her cope with the pain?
By the time this event happened I was in the habit of pulling out my book and writing about all the big things. That event was a really bad one. I thought my sister would die that night. Either from the injuries he inflicted after he knocked her out or from someone or something while she was outside in the night or even from the cold. My memories were written in my book and because they were I feel they are truer than those of my mom or sister. Or maybe they are truer to me because they are remembered from my perspective.
After my sister began to stir he got crazier than ever. He blamed her for bringing attention to his violence. He kicked her out of the house and told her not to return. Mom hugged her and told her to go to the backyard and wait. A while later he was settled in the den in front of the TV half asleep. Mom went to the back door to find her as she lay huddled cold and scared in a chair. Mom went in and made sure he didn't notice the sound of the door over the TV as my sister crept into her room. Grabbing a pillow and blanket she lay hidden on the floor shivering behind her bed. We couldn't comfort her, I wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be okay but I couldn't. I didn't know if anything was ever going to be okay. Worse would be if he were to notice we were both missing. He would search for us. If he found us with her in the house things would have gotten worse.
As I write these memories I am reminded that they are my memories of events of that night. My mother, brother and sister may have very different memories of the same event but I don't care. My sister would tell you my mother never protected us. She has even told people my mother was abusive too. Mom did protect us. At times putting herself in great peril. Mom asked for help to escape his abuse and was advised to keep the family together and to do her wifely duties.
Years later I asked my father about that night. I had always wondered why he didn't let the paramedics check her out as she lay unconscious in his arms and he said the event never happened. He said he would never have hurt any of us like that. Hours after his denial that he had ever hurt any of us he claimed that hitting us wasn't abuse. It was okay to beat your children. "I was beaten and it never hurt me" he said. I have no idea if he was beaten or not. I am certain he had to lie to himself over and over in order to live with himself. Surely he needed to do something to bury the guilt or how could he have ever lived with himself. Was he evil enough that the acts he committed didn't cause him to lay awake at night unable to sleep? Did he ever waste a minute of his pitiful life in remorse or regret?
A few days ago my mother and I were talking about his abusive ways and she remembered this event. Her memories were very close to my own except my strongest memory is of my sisters lifeless body in his arms and later her huddled and shivering on the floor with nobody to rub warmth into her limbs or give her the comfort she needed. Moms strongest memories of that night were of standing between them when the fight began and him breaking her nose yet again. She worried that night about my sister after he tossed her out fearing she would come to harm by somebody other than my father before she could safely get her safely back in the house.
I find it interesting that nobody can remember who called the paramedics that night. Mom forgot my sister was out cold and thought it was her. I thought it was Mom. Maybe it was a neighbor or my brother or maybe my sister had called before he hurt her sensing it would be very bad! Perhaps one of us blocked it out fearing he would know who called!
My sister kept well hidden until the next day when he left again. Days later when he returned I don't remember him making the big fuss I feared he would when he saw her in the house. I thought we were all in for it for sure. Could he have silenced all of us? Would it have even been possible for him to make us all disappear?
As I think back to my fathers lack of memory and his half admissions I wonder if that is why my sister and I never agree on how things were. Have her memories changed to help her cope with the pain?
By the time this event happened I was in the habit of pulling out my book and writing about all the big things. That event was a really bad one. I thought my sister would die that night. Either from the injuries he inflicted after he knocked her out or from someone or something while she was outside in the night or even from the cold. My memories were written in my book and because they were I feel they are truer than those of my mom or sister. Or maybe they are truer to me because they are remembered from my perspective.
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