I Know This Kid


She sat behind the chair hiding. Messy blonde curls, thumb in her mouth. Listening to the two of them arguing. Frightened and not understanding she began to weep but no one heard her.

Someone was going to take her away. Sally was afraid. She didn’t want to leave her TigerAngelmommy. But, why were they both saying they were her mommy? She moved a way and hid in the shadows fearing the two women would know she was there.

” She is my child and you can’t have her.”

” You don’t have custody of her anymore. You gave her up. Now get a way from here before I call the police.”

Why was that lady talking to my mommy like that? Why can’t I go have my mommy hold me? I want my mommy.

” I am her new mother now, please remove yourself from my property.”

Sally wept harder. This lady was being bad to my mommy. Too afraid to move she huddled even deeper into the dark. Soon the door slammed and the new mommy was yelling at my daddy.

” What in the world did you ever see in that bitch? You must have been drunk when you slept with her. You produced not one but two kids from a woman like that. Were you out of your freaking mind?”

” Tone your voice down. Do you want the kids to hear you?”

” Not the kids, your kids. I married you, not your kids.”

I saw daddy hanging his head down. I saw him get his hanky out of his pocket and wipe his eyes. Mommy is sitting down at the table. She is drinking her coffee and looking out the window.

My mommy wants me but they don’t want me to be with her. My new mommy doesn’t want me and yet I have to stay here.

Sally came out from her hiding place when the room became quiet. She crept up the stairs and laid down on her bed. Sticking her thumb in her mouth she cried herself to sleep.

This my friends is something that happens so often in lives of children today. Marriages ripped apart. New marriages glued together in hopes of lasting a long time. Children not understanding grown-up things get very confused. Some feel like they are to blame for what ever is wrong. Some kids go into themselves and others escape by what ever means they can find.  A child can feel this pain and carry it deep within their hearts for years to come. I know, because I am this kid.

 

My Angels


No one understood me

Like you did Mom

You knew when

I was hurting

You knew when

I needed to talk

No one understood me

Like you did Daddy

When I followed

You where ever

You went

When we

Talked about nothing

I would give

Anything for just

One moment

If I could talk

To you again

I would say

All the things

I never said

When I did

So many things wrong

You looked the other way

You were the best

Parents a girl

Could ever have

I love and miss you both.

Written by,

Terry Shepherd

09/16/13angel child                                             http://youtu.be/5KPu7QhYY_0

 

 

 

Chapter 16


From the point of Thanksgiving until December 1 life spun in circles. I didn’t see Al in this time frame. In fact I didn’t see anyone. I worked my job and when I wasn’t there I was with Dad.

Dad and I  had quite a few talks about things kids don’t usually discuss with their parents, but Dad knew he was dying. He talked to me about Al and he discussed his personal will with me.

We didn’t do anything when I was with him. I talked and he was quiet. I gave medications and the only time he would eat is when I brought him egg drop soup. His sister dropped by more often. She and B would spend time chatting and I stayed by my Dad’s side.

On December 1, Dad was in so much pain. He couldn’t sit still. I was constantly changing him from the chair to the bed. There wasn’t a position that was remotely comfortable for him.

He finally laid down on the bed. I didn’t even think for one second if it looked bad or not. I laid down on the bed beside him and placed his hand in mine. He quieted down and for about fifteen minutes we lay there with me telling him how much I loved him.

His eyes were closed but I knew he could hear my words. Then he opened his eyes and they became wide and then they closed and he took his last breath. Oh Lord, I will never forget that moment and  five years later, I still re-live that moment over and over.

I got off the bed and went to tell his sister and B that he had passed. They had not been in the room with Dad and me. They were in the bedroom across the hall chatting. When I told them they  both said,”really?”

They got up and went to where he was and told him they loved him. I never felt so alone as I did at that moment. It was up to me to call the funeral home. I made that dreaded call and went outside and sat in the swing and smoked. Crows filled the trees. Their chatter was so loud and when I looked up at the trees they were black in color from so many birds.

As quickly as they had come, they left. The funeral home came and I could not go inside. I stayed out until Dad was removed from the home. I was so thankful to the parlor as they helped me decide things. Who was there to call was one thing.

Dad’s sister’s husband, my uncle volunteered to tell Al and our half-sister. While the attendant and me were making decisions I don’t know what happened to B and the sister, but suddenly they appeared with Dad’s wallet and they had emptied it.

I was in too much pain to notice or think twice about what they had been up to. I didn’t even mind that Uncle was going to tell my siblings. The dust settles though and you learn of what was happening around you once your mind becomes clear.

Considering Al is disabled with mental challenges I would have made the effort to go to him in person and tell him the sad news about Dad, but instead the Uncle called Al. This had to be the coldest move ever. I can only imagine how Al felt getting a phone call stating, your Dad is dead.

Through the years of caring for Al he has told me how awful he felt. He didn’t know what to do. My heart still aches at the crappy way in which he was  dealt the news. What was worse or just as bad as that the month prior to Dad’s death Al and our half-sister were not allowed in B’s house. Neither of my siblings were given the chance to say goodbye or settle any last thoughts with  him.

I try real hard not to dwell on this topic today as the pain is instantly resurfaced and I find myself becoming depressed for a few days. That afternoon of his death I went to the funeral home and tried to make plans with the attendant. My Uncle kept trying to take over and make the decisions. Finally the owner of the home asked my Uncle to please remain quiet. It was time for the eldest child to take care of matters.

I can remember the looks on their faces as this task was taken out of their hands. They were not very happy. I did my job. I let the owner walk me through the steps. I went to my daughter’s home for a few days.

I wish today that I had handled things differently. All I can think of was my brain was fogged. I was moving out of habit but not thinking. Poor Al and the sister didn’t have me around or my support. I am so ashamed of not being there for them. I  was being led around hand over hand and questioned nothing.

The funeral came and the burial was over. I was made Executor over the estate and had plenty of work to do with this. I checked in on Al daily. I saw our half-sister much more often.

One week after we had buried Dad, I received a phone call from Al’s family doctor. He was letting me know that Al had left his job and driven himself to the doctor. Al was having a heart attack.

Up to that point my mind was on the continuing path of how life was before Dad’s death. I was going to get Al an apartment where disabled adults lived. He would continue with his job and routine that he was used to.

This caused a knife into a bubble effect. Our lives changed at that moment and never went back. We were creating a new path in life, with gravel instead of paved. Big pot holes and rather large bumps.

Chapter 15


The more ill Dad became the more I was at the home of the girlfriend. I tried my best to be smiling and talk about nothing but it was strained. Dad was fearful that he or I would say something wrong and he would be sent home packing.

Many times I heard B threaten to send him home if he didn’t behave. I felt so sad for Dad. I always knew that he was not one of those take-charge men. Mom did everything. She paid the bills. She made the better money. She was very involved with the city of our home town.

Dad stayed in the background. He had plenty of friends himself. The guys he worked with, and there were some from his church that he hung around with, but Mom always seemed to outshine on most things.

I always believed Dad had issues with Mom making more money and I feel that this hindered him taking a front seat in their marriage. So seeing this woman bully Dad when he was dying broke my heart.

Many times I ate over at B’s house. She was an excellent cook. Her home was spotless. Her dog was cute, the property she lived on beautiful. But she lacked in humanity. Her life revolved around her and we were the tagged children, and Dad was her puppet.

The minister started dropping over at B’s house to see Dad more often. Dad made it a habit to read his Bible after breakfast each day. When the minister would stop by B made a fool out of herself my making rude comments to the Reverend. She would say, “he reads his Bible but he doesn’t follow a damn thing in it.”

I used to want to just walk over and slap her silly when she talked like that. I am sure both Dad and the minister were embarrassed, I know I was. After the visit was over she would pounce like a cat all over Dad. “How can you be such a hypocrite? Reading that damn book and then not living like it says. You ought to just put it a way somewhere and forget trying to look like something you aren’t”

I don’t care if she was right or wrong. She should have never voiced her thoughts to him. I have known our Dad much longer than she has. I remembered a time when he would not step foot inside a church door. He had changed. He needed and wanted to read his daily devotions. He counted on it. Dad did not want to die. He wanted to live. He did everything in his power to keep living. I think he clung very tightly to what he read each day.

Plus, she and I nor any of us have any right to judge another human’s thoughts. Who are we to throw stones when we have not looked in our own glass mirrors first?

I stayed with Dad pretty much through the week days. I went over in the mornings and stayed until after the supper dishes were done, then I would go home. On the weekends I had to trust that B would behave as I worked all weekend long.

Spring, summer had passed and now it was fall. Dad wanted to go to a flea market. B drove and I tagged a long in case Dad needed attention. When we arrived in the parking lot and we were ready to take off B let us know that she was going on ahead. She didn’t have time to wait for Dad who was slow and using a walker.

Dad and I went into one tent and looked around and then he could go no farther. He and I sat in the shade of a hot fall day and talked while we waited for B to have her fun. On the drive home I was very quiet. B talked and Dad listened.

That was the last time I went anywhere with Dad other than his doctor appointments. I am glad I had that time with him. While we waited on the bench our talks began to become on a more personal level. Dad and I both knew he was not going to make it.

Thanksgiving came and it was a nice fall day. Of course I was supposed to be there that day. Who else would give Dad his shots and medications? Who would help him to use the bathroom facilities?

I had a terrible time because I knew that my brother and half-sister were not with us. Thanksgiving Day to me means a day of being thankful. A day of being with family. My siblings were not allowed over. Oh how I hated her for this.

I got a hold of Al and made sure he was not going to be alone on this holiday. I discovered he had been invited by Dad’s sister to be at their home for dinner. For this I was very grateful. I explained to Al how I so wanted him to be with me, but because of B’s attitude it just wasn’t going to happen. I apologized to him over and over and I don’t think he understood or does to this day why he was left out.

The dinner table was filled and over-flowing with a turkey and all the trimmings. At this point in Dad’s life food was the last thing he wanted. He would rather be sitting in the pillow based recliner that we had designed for his body.

When you are dying from Bone Cancer, even a button on a recliner touching your skin can cause great pain. There were many times that I could no longer give Dad a hug. The cancer was eating holes in his bones making him in great pain and very delicate. But this didn’t matter, he had to be at the head of the table. He was to pretend that life was great and the food divine.

If I remember right he ate a small helping of  Turkey and a teaspoon of mashed potatoes. Dad ignoring the home-made chocolate pie told any of us that knew him well that he was very sick.

He didn’t want to stay at the table. He begged me to take him to the recliner. Although B was bitching about him leaving, I took him to his chair. On the way from point A to point B, Dad quietly asked me, “did you make sure Al is alright today?”

I said,” yes he is. He is at your sisters.”

It made me feel good that Dad inquired about Al. Things were changing inside Dad. He was beginning to take stock of what he had done in his life. What kind of father  he been to Al. I think it was eating him up about certain things that had been left undone or unsaid. He touched my hand and said, “thanks Terry for making sure he is alright.”

Chapter 14


As Dad got worse, Al became farther back in the picture. I liked it better when he was fore most in my mind because he needed looking after. But B. felt that Dad was just a big burden and demanded more and more of my time.

One of the last visits Dad payed to his own home, it was in October. He had the urge to sit on his tractor one more time. B. came along and I met Dad out at the house, Al was home also.

Dad made me go get Al as he wanted to talk to him. It ended up not being talking, it was screeching about how things were not done the way Dad wanted them done. Our half-sister happened to stop by and my Grandma still lived on the property.

We were all getting things arranged in Grandma’s house as she was planning on  moving permanently to Florida to live with her daughter. It was still pretty warm outside and the woods were in full color.

I didn’t know how we were going to get the tractor out of the barn. Dad had tried to climb on top of it but he was too weak. Just then my son pulled in the drive way and I asked him to bring the tractor out.

While my son was doing this B. was in the background bitching at Al because of this or that. I told her, “Stop it right now. You have no right to be speaking to him this way.Leave him alone and remember this is not your son nor your home.”

She gave me a dirty look and then proceeded to start in on our half-sister. It escalated very quickly and soon there was an arguing match in full force. I am so thankful my parents lived in the country. If we were in town the cops would definitely have been called.

Yelling and accusing was going on so long. When I glanced at Dad to see how he was dealing with this he was sitting in a summer chair and his body was trembling. He was so weak and also too afraid to interfere with this fighting.

I probably didn’t handle it the right way, but I told Al to go ahead and go back in the house where he would be safe. Al didn’t hesitate, he left right a way. I walked up between the sister and B. and stuck my hands out in between them. I probably looked like a traffic cop. I told them,” You are destroying Dad. Look at him trembling. You two should be ashamed of yourselves. If you want to argue and bitch, go somewhere else and do it in private. I want this shit stopped now. I will not sit here and watch you all destroy yourselves.”

Voices hushed and the air became quiet. B. was beginning to mumble under her breath and I gave her the look. She changed her train of thought and went to Dad and told him she couldn’t help herself. She just wanted to protect him. In my opinion she could just shove it and go to hell.

After the boxing ring became quiet, Dad went back to the issue of wanting to get on the tractor. My son and I tried and tried to hoist him up but to no avail. Finally I saw a five-gallon container. I went and grabbed it and placed it as a stepping stone for him.

He was able to get on and he sat there smiling. He tried to start the tractor but his legs were too weak to  clamp down on any pedals. Getting him off was even harder. My son and I balanced him and sort of pulled him off.

There was no  more arguing that day. B. had said what she wanted. Our half-sister was done defending herself and inside Grandma’s house. My son left, so all that was left outside was B., me and Dad.

I grabbed Dad’s mail and we all went back to the girlfriend’s home where I helped Dad inside. The day before when I had visited Dad I had brought  over a   toilet commode. He could barely get down on the seat to sit or stand to be wiped.

I had the leverage to grab him this and a walker. When we got inside her house and I had Dad seated and comfortable in his recliner, she called me into her kitchen. When I went to see what she wanted she had the commode in her hands. She made me watch as she tossed it out the back door. She commented or hissed, “No one is going to pretend they are sick in my house. There will be nothing here that represents sick.”

I watched her with intent as she tossed that and the walker outside. I went outdoors and grabbed the walker and brought it back inside. With Dad within hearing distance I played out a short clip of a silent movie.

I raised the walker and pretended I was going to slam her with it. She covered her head with her hands and inside I was having the time of my life. On the outside I was firm-faced and I mouthed to her, “He needs this, dammit, now get your shit together.”

She left the walker alone but put it on the back  porch. I had to look at B. for the first time with sadness. Although I never met her husband who had passed I could imagine the memories of having another man you cared about dying in your home once again. That feeling of sadness didn’t really stay that long, as I knew that someone in her sixties should very well know better to take it out on another human being, no matter how bad it hurts emotionally.

 

Chapter 12


The new lady in our Dad’s life seemed so pretty and nice. But she was a snake with a poison tongue disguised in fine linens. Dad was guilty of sharing with her issues he had most of his life as they became closer.

The one thing he did share with her, and for name’s sake, let’s call her B. Dad told her many of his frustrations with Al. He never took the blame for his feelings. It was easier to place it on others.

Dad would tell her how Al fought to trim the yard, but he omitted to explain Al’s mentality and slowness. He told her that Al would not mow the yard, but again he never said Al had never mowed because he was incapable.

It wasn’t long before B decided Al was a piece of crap, disappointing his Dad, defying what his Dad needed from him. She took it upon herself to lecture Al any chance she could get. The catch was she always did it behind Dad’s back.

She could smile oh so pretty, but a way from Dad? She was a venomous snake ready to pounce. I have to be honest here. I think even if she would have said something in front of Dad, he wouldn’t have done a thing.

Dad was always afraid of what others thought of him. He was always ashamed of us kids. It is so hard to explain to you because I don’t understand why myself today. I know he loved us, well I am pretty sure.

Al learned to hate this woman B. He would run and hide if he found out Dad and B were coming over. I say coming over because by now she had invited him into her home to live. This left Al once again on his own. Dad and B would come over to mow or check the mail. While Dad mowed, this is when B would go into the house.

I can still remember once when I was there to see Dad I walked in on B yelling at Al. She was saying,” You are such a disappointment to your father. Why do you fight him so bad? Don’t you think you are old enough to be out there mowing instead of making your sick Dad do it? No wonder he moved in with me. He needed to get a way.”

I stepped up to the plate and threw her ass out. I told her, “Don’t you ever talk to my brother that way again, or I swear you will regret it the rest of your life. Now get the hell out of our house.”

She and I never told Dad of this conversation. You see Dad was sick. He had Bone Cancer. I didn’t want him to have the added stress in his life. Another thing I should add here is there was five acres to mow with a riding lawn mower. Al could never have done it, even if he had tried his best. His coordination just wasn’t capable of doing this chore.

B treated me different at first; nice is the word I would say. She was the pretty one. She lived on a beautiful piece of property on a channel. She had a cute little dog and kept an immaculate house. She was not going to be taking care of a sick man. She would cook for him but that was it, and he could sleep in her bed. Other than that, it was all up to me.

I took Dad to all of his doctor appointments. I took care of insurance companies. I had a job where I went to work at 6pm on Friday nights. I lived at this house taking care of an elderly married couple. I would leave Monday morning at 8 and return that same day at 6pm. I stayed all night then left Tuesday morning at 8. Then I was off the rest of the week.

In between this job I took care of Dad. I would be invited to Thanksgiving but Al wasn’t. This was just eating me alive. I was actually invited to the dinner because I was his caregiver and she was his lover, cook and housekeeper. I had to be there in case he needed something.

I was there quite a bit. I took care of Dad from March 2007 until he passed a way in December of the same year. B would take him on leisure one-day trips and of course I had to go along. Al would go to our Aunt’s  home for holidays and I would be with Dad and B.

I guess at one time B and our step-sister had met and got along fine and once again Dad had confided in his disappointment in her and B sent her a way too. So I was the only one allowed in her home and even then I knew the only reason was because she needed me.

As Dad became more ill I was there more and more. I was asked by Dad to come over more often than not. I think from his and my conversations he knew that he had made an error with picking her but was too afraid at this point. He didn’t want to go back to his home and die alone.

Dad was a big part of the blame for B not getting along with Al and the other sister, because he never cleared up the truth. He let her go on and believe what she wanted. As I was at her home almost constantly to care for Dad she would say hateful things to me.

I felt so torn. Dad didn’t want to go home and live. I had begged him to go back to his own house and I would care for him there. I told him I would get coverage for part of my hours but he insisted I stick with my job since I was almost divorced from the now ex.

A Love Letter To Daddy


Dear Daddy,

It has taken me so long to get up the strength to write you this letter. Today, is Father’s Day and while many are celebrating I was not. Instead I spent the afternoon with your son, my brother at the nursing home.

He isn’t doing well Daddy. He is wanting to die and he wants to do it at home. I hope you understand why I placed him for these past few months. I just felt I couldn’t give him all he needed. I felt like he needed more than just my help. I do hope you understand.

I have missed you so much. It is so hard to believe that you have been gone six years this December. Where has the time gone? I guess when I look back I mourned for years. I think if I admit it I am still mourning for you today.

Right after you had your burial, Al had a heart attack. The doctors said that he had so much trouble expressing himself, his heart just couldn’t take what had happened. Ever since then Daddy I have been taking care of him. I promised you I would and I haven’t let you down.

I have been alright I guess. I have never been able to fill  the void of you being gone, but I survive. I think of you at least once every day. I always tell myself that you watch over me. I can see you and Mom holding hands and looking down on Al and me.

Are you smiling? I know I disappointed you in so many ways and I am sorry, but I hope you are proud of me now. I have worked real hard at being the good girl you could smile down upon.

I bought a sketch pad today and some charcoal and sketch pencils. You remember Daddy? How you and I used to draw together? I am going to give it a shot without you. Every sketch I make will be done through my love for you.

Al is coming home this week and he says he is wanting to see you and Mom real bad. He says he misses you both and Granddad too. He told me Mom has said she is saving a spot for him, will you save a spot for me too?

You know that once Al is gone it will be me left from the family. Hold a spot close up there in heaven. I don’t want to be separated from the family ever again.

I miss you so much and I love you as much today as when I held you in my arms while you drifted off to heaven. I didn’t get to tell you enough how much I love you. I am hoping that while your spirit was rising that early morning that you heard me whispering in your ear that I love you and you were the best Daddy a girl could have.

Well, I better close for now before I start crying again. Give Mom a hug and a kiss for me and I shall see you both soon.

Your little girl,

Terrydad, bev, me and theda

Blood That Follows


In my family Al and I had very few blood relatives. I know that to some this isn’t very Blue_candleimportant. To me it was, because I liked knowing that I belonged somewhere.

Al and I had our dad and my dad’s one sister and my dad’s mother.

I had stored a bowl that was left to me by my grandma and I received it this weekend. I also have photos of my family. I thought I would share with you. It also gives you a little bit more insight as to why my brother means so very much to me. He and I are real brother and sister.

grandma's bowlThis belonged to my grandma’s side of the family. I will treasure it always.

alvin and meThis is Al and me after we started our new life with our dad and stepmom.

alvin graduation pictureThis is Al on his graduation day.

dad's dadThis is my dad’s dad.

grandma and grandpa taylorThis is my grandma and my real grandpa.

four generation picThis is a generation picture. My dad is the baby in the photo.

my mom and dadThis is my stepmom and my dad about five years before they passed a way.

my kids when they were youngThese are my kids when they were young.

 

http://www.youcaring.com/medical-fundraiser/too-much-pain-and-too-little-money/55964

 

My Brother’s LIfe Journey, Chapter 1


Sit

Al is my brother. I am one year and two weeks older than he is. Telling this story will hopefully help others who are struggling in their own lives to see that I am here and you are never alone.

It was May 3rd 1955 when a little baby boy was born. He did not come into the world welcomed as many children do. He came born into the world as an innocent babe by parents who had major issues of their own.

He was born with brain damage. He was the second of two children and this lead to lack of care needed to help a baby grow. As I remember back in my memories I don’t remember him that young. But the truth comes out over time and I will tell you what I was told.

When Al was old enough to sit in a high chair he was placed there and ignored. No adult supervision. Al was able to maneuver himself up and over the high chair and fell different times causing more damage to the head.

Both Al and I were abused. In those days it was not called abuse. It was a family secret that was only spoken in strange moments. Al was abused more than me. I think I was not necessarily wanted more than he. I believe it is because one baby is easier than two.

Our parents were not in control of their own lives. With their young ages there was lack of training and maybe a feeling of entrapment over being strapped with two babies and a job that could not take care of all the needs within a family.

Parents of the parents stepped in and made opinions known. Guilt became an obsession and the need to escape became utmost in the minds of our parents. Our Mother didn’t work because she was too young. She was 15 when she had me and 16 when she had Al.

Dad worked at a bowling alley and hid behind the bottle when not at work. I have heard horror stories of how loud fights and beer bottles flew over our heads as we seemed to be always in the middle of all arguments.

One day our Mom took off with us kids. She didn’t tell a soul she was leaving. When Dad found out she was gone his Mother was grateful but insisted he get us kids back. I don’t know who Mom left with. I assume a friend took her. At her age she wouldn’t have had many adult friends to turn to. Back in those days being pregnant and unmarried was taboo so I am sure the conversations were limited.

I know that while we were prisoners of my Mom’s travels she had no money. She did what ever was necessary to survive. I don’t know how she fed and clothed us kids but I do know that she sold me to different people to earn money when I was about two years old. I shudder to think what may have happened to Al also. There are parts of me that don’t want to know. It is possible that Al can remember but it is so deeply hidden in his mind we may never know.

The Welfare department did eventually find us and return us to our Dad who was by now living back with his parents. Al and I were welcomed by the fact that we were the “kids”. I am not ever going to swear that we were united because of a great love.

I can remember sitting at my Grandmother’s table and Al sitting in my Dad’s high chair. He would be crying. He seemed to cry a lot to me. Even as a young child I can remember many tears and yelling episodes.

Grandma would tell him, “Be quiet. I can’t stand that noise. I wish you would just shut up”. I know that somewhere inside this house the word caring was lingering throughout. I know that my Grandparents took Al to the biggest children’s hospital in our state to find out what was wrong with him.

I can remember them telling other family members that he couldn’t sit up properly for his age. That he should be walking now but wasn’t. The hospital confirmed that he was mentally challenged. He also suffered from Rickets and he was malnourished.

I don’t think I was near as bad as he was medically. I do remember Grandma stuffing vitamins and eye droppers  filled with  Iron to each of us kids. I am sure that we were both fed much better than we were before.

Al slept downstairs where my Grandparents slept. Our Dad still worked at the bowling alley and came home very late. I remember that I slept in a baby bed for probably too many years. I also remember that my Dad slept in the big bed next to my crib.

Eventually Dad met our new Stepmother. After being married they moved to the town that Al and I now reside in. Visits came from our real Mom and I can still see me hiding behind the living room chair taking peeks at my real Mom and hearing them arguing about how she was going to come back to get me when I reached the age of 16. There was never a mention of coming back to get Al too. I can remember feeling confused and not understanding why she would only ask for me when I had a brother.

Dad then got a job at the State Highway Department and I think our new Mom worked at one of the local grocery stores. I remember she took us to a baby sitter. I knew fear even at the age of four. This babysitter was mean. I could see her smack Al for crying and I had to sit on a chair.

Yet there was a familiarity to this also. Al and I were not allowed to be kids when we lived at our Grandparents either. We had to sit on chairs and be very quiet. Neither of us knew what sunshine was or running and playing outdoors felt like.

 

Daily Prompt; My Favorite/ The Daily Post


http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/01/06/daily-prompt-favorite-person/#like-12783

What’s the most time you’ve ever spent apart from your favorite person? Tell us about it.

I have had many people enter in to my lifedad, bev, me and theda

I have even had two that asked me to be a wife

Some have left marks on my heart that have stayed

Others have wandered through but went about their way

Some have taught me to love and to share

Others have hurt me, pain I had to wear

There are two people when I think back long ago

That have walked with me through life and this they know

But the favorite one that always is and always had

Is no other than my favorite person, my dad.

Terry Shepherd

01/06/2013

 

I am the blonde standing right next to dad. This was about four months before he left from this earth to go home to heaven.