Written: 06/25/14 – Age: Birth – 6yrs old
(LR): I don’t remember to much about this. Randy life seems like such a blur to me. Randy this is me talking, not you, so don’t rush me like you always do. I want to write this. You can write for me today but let me tell the story. You try to rationalize to much. Fair enough? (AR) Fair enough.
I don’t remember much but what I do remember is very vivid. At the age of 1 or 2 mom was giving me a bath in the portable baby bath on top of the dresser. The dresser in the house on Orizaba Street. You remember, don’t you? Yes, I remember. I just remember dad coming home from the store with some bread and mom getting real nasty and mean with dad because he brought home the wrong kind of bread. I remember being scared and confused because of how mean mom was. Randy, why was mom always so mean? I don’t remember her being loving and kind to me like granny was. I’ve tried Randy to remember. I do remember her taking us to our Little League games, but it seemed so fake. Where did dad go? It seems like he was not around much. Maybe he was just working a lot to support us and we were in bed when he got home.
I remember when I would wander off alone across the vacant lot to our landlord’s house. Where was mom them? I wonder did she even know where I was, did she even care? As hard as I try, as hard as I don’t want it to be true, I never felt her love. In many ways Randy I felt abandoned. “I had you, so I have to take care of you” This I believed was her attitude. Maybe dad wasn’t around so much because mom was always so mean to him. I don’t know anymore. Am I making all this up Randy? I can’t be making it up because I feel it in my spirit & soul. I feel the soul wound. I hate mom sometimes for the way she treated me with lack of love and affection. I hate her for being so nasty to dad and pushing him away. Randy, why do I hate her so much? As an adult I know I have to forgive her, but me, this little kid is still angry, hurting over the way she treated me and dad. I know dad was no angel, but at least dad was proud me, his son.
I remember times being with dad at his friends’ houses. I just want to be with him, I never felt as though I was a burden to dad like I did with mom. I remember when we moved to Long Beach and dad built all the brick planters around the yard. I remember how he was working on this big old birdhouse made of wood, cement, and small stones. I used to love working on it with him. I just loved being with dad. I do remember also that time I wouldn’t eat my squash. After mom tried to get me to eat it and I wouldn’t, dad tried, and he pretty much shoved the spoon into my mouth. Oh, he was mad, and I knew it. For some reason his anger didn’t bother me like mom’s anger did. Mom’s anger seemed more hateful than dads did.
Randy, here was the best thing. Remember when you got that cut under your eye, you know when that German war helmet fell out of the tree and hit you? Remember the fire drill at school and all the fire trucks showed up? Remember how excited I became hoping dad would show up? I remember seeing him walk across the playground and got so excited. Then he walked right up to me, picked me up in front of all the classes that were on the playground. Oh man, I felt so special, He checked out the cut under my eye, gave me a big hug, then put me down with the rest of my class. Man, I felt so loved, so special, so proud. I was on top of the world. I know Randy as an adult that’s a memory you hold close to your heart. (AR) Yes, I do. I have never felt that feeling since.
(LR) You know what was one of my favorite things Randy? (AR)No, what? Well, actually I believe I do. (LR) Granny was my favorite. She always made me feel so loved even when she was upset with me. She never got mad at me, just disappointed. I loved when she would hold and rock me in her old rocking chair. She would close all the curtains in her living room, turn on the old window A/C and just hold and rock me, humming to me quietly. I felt so loved, so safe and so protected. I felt like no one could hurt me as long as I was in grandmas’ arms. I suppose that’s how mom was supposed to make me feel. No matter how hard I tried or wished, mom never did make me feel loved like grandma.