So with all the support that was shown for Baby Kinley yesterday, it made me think, who would be there to support me if I ever needed it? Well, honestly, it was more who wouldn't be there to support me because I know who would be there! I know the people who would drop everything and sit next to me if it ever became necessary (which I hope it never does).
Truth be told I know who wouldn't be there too, but its that small group of people that I think about. Why? Because this group is family, well at least in the biological sense, but not in the "I'll be there no matter what" sense and that bothers me. Always will bother me. I doubt any of them even know that I have a daughter.
I need to get this out. I need to let my side of this story be told. Then maybe, just maybe I can put this to rest in my mind.
My bio-father was a drunk, though he would never admit it and neither will his side of the family. He came and went out of my life whenever it please him. We might see him for a few months every other weekend like we were suppose to, but then he might disappear for 2 years only to show up again. I spent many of my weekends sitting on a curb waiting for him to show up only to be disappointed that he didn't. I would wonder - what did I do to make him not want to spend time with us? It wasn't until I was about 12 or 13 that I figured it out, that it was him not me or my brother. The thing is, is I never hated him for it, it just made me want to see him more. I don't know why. I don't think I'll ever figure that one out. We were put through a lot.
My mother never said a bad word about him in front of us and yelled at anyone whoever did. She wanted us to form our own opinions and to figure it out for ourselves. I admire her for that because it could not have been easy to see her children cry or be mad or upset that he didn't show. He never showed up for Jr High or High School Graduations for either of us.
Lets go back. My first memory of things going bad was when I was about 3 or 4 years old. I remember waking up to my parents yelling at each other. I went into the kitchen where they were and was standing behind my mother. My father pushed her and she fell on me and I had fallen on my brother. She quickly gathered us up, packed a packed a bag for us and calling my grandma to tell her she was sending us down the street to her. My brother and I walked down there (1/2 a block away). Grandma came down stairs and watched us walk. I don't remember what happen after that.
The next memory I have, which I have been told was same day. It was night and I was asleep in a sleeping bag on the floor of grandma's and I was woken up by someone picking me up and carrying me into another room. It turns out my father had climbed up to the 2nd story of a 2 story flat (My Grandparents place) and tried to break in through the window to get to my brother and I.
Now mind you none of this made sense to me until I asked my mother one day about these "strange" memories I had. At that time my mother filled in some of these memories.
There was another time, my father had picked us up and took us to my cousins' house. He went golfing with my uncle while we hung out with my cousins & aunts. We had a great old time and that night he came back drunk trying to get us to go home with him. I'm not sure what happen to lead up to it, but next thing I knew he was holding my aunt against the wall in a choke hold and my brother had dialed 911. He grabbed the phone out of his hand and hung up before he could say anything. When they called back my aunt lied for him, told him my brother had accidentally dialed, so no one would show up.Needless to say we did not get in the car with him but he left and drove 1 1/2 hours home.
Well, this is where I need to leave you today. My little baby is finally up from her nap and I need to tend to her now.
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