Lost... Never Found

1987

Here, she was a young lady, about 11 or 12. It was a hard year for this young girl. Her dad died (grandfather). He was the only true positive father figure she ever had. He taught her so many wonderful lessons. He made her do things in life such as fishing. She did not like it but she did it anyway. Her grandpa was just trying to keep her out of trouble and not follow the same lifestyle her parents had with their alcoholism and their addiction to drugs. Along with her grandmother she learned so much. They showed her real love, real life...

Her grandma and grandpa had a wonderful garden every year that she was able to work in every summer for the first 10 years of her life. She was just getting good at it. Digging in the dirt. Planting seeds and plants grown indoors. Learning how to be a housewife, for some lucky fellow someday. Her mother (grandmother) taught her how to cook ,clean and do laundry. She taught the ways of nature. Herbs, stones even meditation and essential oils. How to handle an argument. How to handle living and loving one another. Then it all changed the summer of 1987. Right before the Twins won the World Series. Cherishing those moments of watching baseball games on TV with her grandpa. She hated watching baseball but did anyways. She love the time spent with him. She can still see his smiling face in an old memory.

She recalls he would go for long walks. Sometimes she got to go with. Other times he would tell her not to follow him. Of course being the curious child she was, she did anyway. He would walk slowly some days. Enjoying the sun on his face, sometimes stopping just to look up at the sky. Smoking his pipe. (I can still smell the scent of the tobacco he used every once in a while even today.) He would catch her, “go on home” he would yell. Or he would take her hand and they would walk back together. She loved his black furry hat that he wore on the cold days. The navy blue coat that was a always a bit tight around his belly. The long drives in the red Buick to Forest Lake for the holidays every year. What a wonderful and kind loving man but cut short by a heart attack while up at the lake. At least he was where he wanted to be. On his on his pontoon fishing for ever.

She still had her grandmother. Of course it did not last long. She was not able to stay with grandmother anymore. Every time she went to visit. There was a family member who told her that grandmother was busy or sick. Told to go home. Well that was my home. At 11 going on 12 a young child was homeless. She waited for a while to go back again. To see if she could go back home. Only to stumble upon a big green dumpster sitting in the driveway. Her grandmother and grandfather collected lots of things over the years. Her grandpa told his grandchildren that the house would be passed along to them someday. But that is not what happened. Her parents made a mistake. She was the one who paid the heavy price. A Family member sold the house for a very low price.

To see everything tossed away brought tears. She was not even allowed to go into the house ever again. Everything was gone. The beautiful clothes that were one-of-a-kind, some hand-sewn and passed down through generations. A doll collection was gone. Her books and poems tossed away like it was nothing. There was a family member that even tried to help. But it did not matter. In a few short years, all that she loved was ripped away. No home to call her own. 1st experience of losing a home.

Just to think that people treat one another like this is horrible, rude and hateful. Of course at the time they just thought they were doing the right thing. But no one ever talked to her about it. Not even to this day. No one who did this deed ever gave a hug and said it would be all right. Her first taste of the real world. It made her sad. From there she questioned everything. Life, the world around her and the way we treat one another without regard to feelings or who we hurt in the process of the choices we make.

1988

The following summer brought only more pain in her young life. She was to go and live with her parents full time because she could no longer be with her grandmother. Her grandmother was not allowed to watch her or babysit her anymore. I still do not really know to this day why I was not able to visit her. My parents rented an apartment on the upper east side. I was a latchkey kid. I would let myself in. Make a snack. Do my homework if I had any. Maybe reading. Then chill indoors till one of my parents got home. I spent a lot of time reading and being a loner. I was the strange kid because I wore hearing aids and talked funny. So yes kids made fun of me. With the sting of losing my home the summer before was still raw.

One day was different then the others. Some boys a girl wanted to hang out and play. I had seen them around. Thought why not. We all went to hang out in the laundry room of the apartment buildings. We were all sitting around playing cards. The girl was playing dolls with me. She was so nice and It felt awesome to have a friend. Some one to laugh with. Then she asked me if I wanted to play doctor. I said sure. We went to her house down the road from the apartment complex. We got there and sat in the back yard while she got all of the stuff ready for our pretend time of playing doctor. I was lead into the house. The kitchen was the reception area. The living room was the waiting area. Her and her brothers rooms were the exam rooms. They even had play clothes and equipment to go with. How fun I thought.

I check in at the front desk. Proceeded to the waiting room. Thumbing a magazine. Then I was called back for my appointment. She lead me into a room. I was told to change into gown and that the doctor would be with me shortly. I waited and soon her brother came in the room. Very cheerful and playing along. I was having so much fun that I did not notice the other boys come into the room and lock the door. Four of them stood in front of me. Told me I was so pretty. I got scared and felt something was very wrong. I went to get up.... to run for the door. I knew I was in a bad spot. I pounded on the door to get out or get someone's attention. Started to scream. One boy grabbed her. Put his hand over her mouth. Needless to say they all got their turn that day. I never told any one until years later. I found out it was called rape. It was a story that was hard to tell and sell. I saw those boys often for years growing up from afar. I never spoke to any of them again. Many years later the girl that lead me there told me she was sorry and cried. But I never said a word to her. Wondering if they ever felt bad for what they had done. Or if they did it to others as well.

By the age of twelve

she was leveled off

by four young boys, who were curious as hell

covered her mouth, told her not to yell

once again told not to tell

all around her they wondered what or why she fell

the ringing of a bell

a story that’s had to sell

another step into this shell

the one where she learns

to take all the blame

no longer tame

only shame

to think for some

life is just a game

so began a life of despair

beyond repair.

She spent her whole teenage life in a fog. She found drugs and liquor not too long after that and just fell into a long journey of trying to forget what happened. But she learns you never really forget... it only fades in and out for a lifetime.