The Loss

The day I lost my grandmother, my world came to an abrupt stop.  I was 13 years old.  She was my rock….the one woman in my life I could always count on for a hug or a laugh.  I always knew I was loved when I was with her.  She was such a tiny little woman but had the biggest heart of anyone I had ever known.  I had no idea what I was going to do without her in my life.  I was crushed.  It was the first time I had someone close to me die.  I was only 4 when my mother passed so I don’t really remember much…..although I do remember a small amount….but nothing compared to the age of 13.

I was completely inconsolable.  This woman was a huge part of me.  I was at her house every day for lunch….every day after school and pretty much every weekend……when I was in elementary school.  Once I hit middle school, her house was not close enough for me to walk there every day.  I still went there almost every weekend.  She lived just down the street from where I grew up.  I had a unique situation.  She was my biological grandmother, no relation to my adoptive mother at all.  But I was always allowed to visit with her whenever I wanted.  She lived with my uncle I spoke about earlier, who had the relations with my adoptive mother.  Don’t get me wrong, he was not a bad person.  He was a great uncle to me.  Taught me how to build things, taught me how to plant and care for a vegetable garden…..spent alot of time with me by taking me with him when he went to get his groceries, when he went to his office to check on his employees, etc. But my grandmother……ouf….to this day, I don’t think I ever recovered from her death.  When she had her first stroke, she was able to come home from the hospital afterwards.  After her second stroke, she never left.  Even when my adoptive mother knew she was not going to make it, she would not let me go visit my grandmother and say my good-byes.  I was so angry at her for that.  I never forgave her.  Things in my life with her only got worse from then on


3 Years Later

It took me 3 years to write more of my story.  Why?  Partly because I didn’t know if I should continue my story….would it cause problems…..would people even care about what I wrote…..I didn’t know if I could handle any criticism or confrontation from family or friends (past or current) for what I wrote.  I finally built up the courage to continue my story.

When I last left you, I had said that the affairs had started.  Well, where do I begin!  I have no idea how long the affairs were going on.  I know of one affair for sure… many others were there?  I cannot tell you because I don’t know.  I have only heard about them but have no proof that they did happen.  SHE was an alcoholic and she would sit there around the kitchen table with her husband and my biological uncle.  They would get so rip roaring drunk that my adopted dad would pass out at the table.  Then SHE and my uncle would proceed to have their affair.  I walked out into the kitchen once with her sitting on my uncle’s lap facing him, having a cigarette.  SHE never smoked as far as I knew…..but they were awfully close to each other.  The minute SHE saw me, she got off his lap and sat in her own chair, and told me to go back to my room.  SHE was so mad and embarrassed at the same time.  I never mentioned it again until years later.  Turns out, I was not the only one to witness the “closeness” between the two of them.

My grandmother had walked in on them once.  She had gotten so very upset that she kicked HER out of the house and some of my grandmother’s family members say that is what ended up killing her in the end.  My grandmother, who was the sweetest, most caring and loved woman on this earth, passed away from a stroke.  They say that it was the stress of seeing her son and my adoptive mother having an affair… broke her heart.  When she passed, it broke mine in ways no one could understand.

In the beginning….

Adoption is not always as it seems… wasn’t in my case anyways.  When one loses a parent early on in life it changes you.  I lost my mother at the age of 4 in a car accident.  That is where my life got crazy.

I will always refer to my adopted mother as SHE.  I cannot even say her name anymore for all that she has put me through in my life.  I will never forgive her.  Maybe that’s not a good thing.  But Evil does not deserve forgiveness.

I had 3 aunts and my babysitter all want custody of me (my father was not in the picture…..I will get to him at a later date).  After everything, I ended up living with an Aunt for a year until circumstances changed in her life.  I then went to live with my babysitter.  Why I didn’t go to other family members is still confusing to me.  I was told that I was already used to the kids in the neighbourhood and that the surrounding were familiar to me.  Her boys were there to which I was close with one of them.  One was already moved out and married.  There was quite an age gap between me and my soon to be adopted brothers.  At least 20 years.  Of course, at the age of 4 you don’t completely understand why your mother is not coming back.  How do you explain that to a child?

The people I ended up going to live with in the end were my babysitters.  The woman was a horrible woman….such a selfish, hateful woman.  The man was a kind soul.  Everyone loved him.  He took me to church on Sundays, spent time with me, helped me with homework, etc.  SHE never did anything with me except yell at me and put me down the whole time I was growing up.

I remember social services coming to the house when I was 13 years old.  They were asking me questions like was I happy living there, did I want to continue living there, etc.  I answered yes to every question.  SHE scared me.  SHE would tell me to say that I was happy or get punished.  Turns out SHE was getting money to adopt me and that was all SHE cared about.

You would think that growing up in a cold, emotionless, loveless home would make me the same…….but it didn’t.  If anything, it made me very emotional, very loving and a very caring person (much to others dismay)

SHE fed off of being evil.  SHE loved to hurt others.  SHE was so cold, emotionless and didn’t know how to love.  I don’t think she even loved herself to be honest.  SHE did not love her husband…..but she needed him because she did not drive…..she did not work…..she just sat at home all day watching Soap Operas like nobody’s business.

There were days SHE would call me horrible names, tell me that I am useless, tell me that I would never amount to anything, that no one would ever love me.  SHE was a very hateful woman.  SHE thrived on seeing the hurt in other’s eyes. SHE was also a very scary woman.  Her poor husband was so scared of her……I don’t know what he ever saw in her.  Maybe in her younger years she was nice?  I find it hard to think that she was.

SHE had 2 biological sons, one of which was not her husband’s…..but in those days, if you were not married when you got pregnant…..that was unacceptable.  SO, he married her….for the exact reason, I have no idea.  Love maybe?  Well if that is the case, it was only one sided.

When my biological mother passed away, she had left me her jewellery including her wedding rings.  She also left me with a nice trust fund.  Well, SHE took it all.  SHE took the wedding rings, the jewellery and pretty much spent most of my trust fund.  See, in order for her to take me in, she requested that she get money every month from my trust fund to take care of me……get me anything I needed growing up like clothes, school books, join sports, etc.  SHE also was able to take out money anytime she liked.  They bought cars for themselves, they bought their house.  By the time I was 18 years old, I should have been rich.  I was not.  SHE pretty much spent it all.  I was not allowed to join things like my friends joined, like Girl Guides, sports activities, etc.  I would sit in the window and watch as my friends got ready to go to their parties, sleepovers, etc.

SHE kept me from my biological family on purpose.  SHE would never let me visit them, except for my Grandmother and 1 Uncle.  My other Aunts and Uncles and Cousins started sending me birthday cards and Christmas cards with money in them.  By the time I received them, they were already opened and no money inside.  SHE was taking the money and keeping it for herself.  EVIL.

Did I mention that SHE also was an alcoholic?  YA….and a lovely one at that.  That is when she would get nastier.  Every weekend she would have her little party and I would be sent to my room for the night.  She would blast the music and if I cried and complained that I could not sleep, she would tell me to shut up.

Now, a few years down the road when I could leave on my own…..I did.  But I always came for visits.  Why?  I think I still wanted her to accept me.  NEVER in my whole years of living with them did SHE ever tell me SHE loved me.  NEVER!  SHE was not a respected woman, or person for that matter.  No one liked her, but they tolerated her for her husband.

Then the affairs started.  The affairs with my Biological family.  Now that is a whole other story.