I took something from you, you know. I don't thank you for it, though, because I know you didn't offer it to me. I just took it. That little spark of power that I stole developed into one of the best parts of me, but you are not responsible for that - I am. It's the part of me that lets me dare to tell the truth even when it's about as popular as the plague. It's the part that guarantees I will die with my boots on. I borrowed a little from here and there to build him, but I alone take the credit for daring to build him. I dared to do that. You fucked up a lot of shit for me, but you couldn't take away my integrity. No one can.
Even though I was already disturbed under the surface, I did what you asked. I set Mom up very nicely. I helped her collect your insurance and I made her a really, really sweet deal on a house and gave her instructions to keep herself secure. And I did what you asked with your body as well. I made sure your body was cremated per your instructions and I didn't let the others interfere with their superstitions. I knew your body had been assaulted enough and you wanted to trust someone to protect it from further defilement. I am proud to have been that someone. I caught the urn when your son collapsed outside of the church the day of your funeral, too. I carried it all the way to mother's mantle where it rests next to your balls. I was bound and determined to protect you and not let you be hurt. I wish you would have done the same for me. I respected your body even when it was dead, but you didn't do that for me even though I was alive. I guess that's the difference between us. I don't forgive what you did. That's not my job, but I do hope you have found some kind of peace. I would like peace, too. You stole my peace and I aim to get it back. I won't rest until I do. I proved I can 'beat city hall', and now I will prove I can beat you, too.
The bottom line here? I win. Period. Because I always find a way. I WIN. I win because in setting myself free from lies, I have set my daughters free as well. These will be very powerful women and I am proud to be the mother who won't hurt them, shame them or lie to them.
I win.
Where was I three years ago? I was here when I posed the question, "Where have all the cowboys gone?" The difference? I'm my own cowboy now. Cowboy up, motherfuckers. Yipee Kiyay.
:-)
And thanks for reading.
I think you are a winner.
ReplyDeleteI agree - a real winner. And as strong as I hope to be someday. I admire your fortitude.
ReplyDeletethe anniversary of my dad's death is always hard on me too...
ReplyDelete((Lynn))
-e
Powerful. this should be framed. I'm ashamed to admit that I was so stressed this year, i forgot my the anniversary of my dad's death. I feel awful.
ReplyDeleteIndeed, it sounds like you are a winner! And no one wants anyone to die, no matter what the relationship. But life happens, and life goes on.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Lily. I sure think the same of you. That's why you got the brass balls award. :-) That - and because you're one hell of a good mother. You rock, woman!
ReplyDeleteYou are already strong, Enola. VERY strong. I admire your fortitude as well. There is a lot to admire about you.
Yeah. It can be a real challenge, Else. A real challenge. I'm sending you hugs, honey.
Ivory! YOU FORGOT THE ANNIVERSARY OF YOUR FATHER'S DEATH??!!!
This is a WONDERFUL thing!! I think it means that some kind of healing has taken place for you! Maybe it's not so much that you forgot, but that you have gained some kind of peace around it? Oh, Ivory! I cannot thank you enough for leaving this comment. It gives me hope. It really, really does. Bless you, dear lady. Bless you for even coming around. Your presence is good (and great blogging at your place!).
You are right, Elizabeth. Often, even if someone has harmed you - it doesn't mean you want them to die. My father was very, very sick. I hate him now, but he had a terrible cancer then, and I would never wish such a thing on anyone. It's just too cruel. I'm not sure how I feel about it now, but I am very healthy and so I offered a kidney and a part of my liver, but the doctors said that a donation could not save him because it had spread too far and involved his pancreas. I would have done anything to help him live, but there was nothing substantial that I could do. Sometimes I hate him for what he has done to me, and sometimes I miss him. It's a mess in here. Sometimes it's very, very painful and I'm angry with him for the mess he left behind. He was my father, and as shitty as he often was, he was not entirely without integrity. He owed me better. I guess the only thing I can hope for now is to leave something better behind in the hearts of my own children. Some days, that's the only reason I keep living. I live because I know my kids have it better than I did, because I can keep working to add to their inner riches with every effort I can make, and that they can pass that on and make the world a better place for themselves, their future friends and/ or families, and maybe for everyone with whom they come in contact. The possibilities are endless. And so I breathe.