I was minding my own business yesterday, surfing TV and finding nothing to watch. My ringing phone jolted me out of my mindless wandering. Then my voice announce said, "Abby's cell phone". I wondered why she was calling, but I remembered that I had left some pictures for her and uncle Barry at Grandma's house on Sunday. Maybe she had gotten them.
Abby is my aunt. Her age is a mystery because she has really pretty smooth skin. She is my mother's surviving sister. Sadly, we both felt that we never really had anything in common most of my life; it seemed we were polar opposites. I spent most of my late teenage years despising her and hating her for reasons I couldn't really remember. I spent my twenties with selective memory, leaving her out of any of my plans. I shut her out.
How cruel I was�it is only now that I've gotten to know her that I am very sorry because she is really the only family member that has the same anxiety, the same depression, and the same sleep issues. We even have some of the same fears. And while we differ on coping mechanisms meaning I talk the situation to death and she finds solace in her religion, I believe that we deal with the same exact issues.
The similarities don't end there. Abby and I look alike. I could be her biological daughter. We both have American Indian features. We both have olive skin, and dark hair. We are both also overweight. I used to wear glasses too, but my vision was eventually corrected.
We are both overweight because, as we discussed, we are in emotional pain and are addicted to food. Throughout our lives, it was about the only comfort. I told her yesterday that my medicine is causing me to gain weight, and I'm scared. I don't want to end up doing the gastric bypass surgery, but it could become an option. I hate being fat.
Abby and I had similar childhoods in a way. While I lived with the Mississippi version of Hitler, she grew up with parents who got along sometimes, and sometimes not. There was not much in-between. They were either getting along, or arguing. Seems like there was always a battle for power.
There are some skeletons in her childhood that she just cannot bring herself to talk about. And then her mom�loved her, but could be really cold. Her Dad was a prankster, and everything was always funny. Both of them used these as coping mechanisms.
Abby was married, at 16, to a violent alcoholic. He was so cruel to her..and denied her even her dignity. He stripped her of self-esteem, and made her smoke (so she wouldn't be fat) and he beat her. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be.
Somehow she escaped, but it wasn't without a very high price.
And then of course, her sister Joann married a man who beat her too, with brass knuckles. Many times he beat Joann.
Joann got free, but only to end up eventually meeting the man who would brutally kill her and savagely knife her children.
What was Abby to do? Isn't the pain enough? There were a slew of indignities, the worst, she cleaned up the crime scene and it has scarred her to this day.
She played the "what if" game a lot after that.
I guess it was just a matter of time before Abby found her way to church. This was something bigger than her. One can get tired of fighting Goliath all the time. It's exhausting. Our Goliath was the murder of Joann and the trial, and the victimizing of her children, and the shock wave effect on our family.
If you knew Abby, you might believe, because of her demeanor, that you might not have a thing in common with her. Abby, first of all, dresses like a sweet older woman, hair piled on top of the head and worn eyeglasses perched on her nose. She doesn't wear any adornment.
She doesn't cut her chestnut hair and hasn't since she started going to church ten or so years ago, and winds it up on her head like a cinnamon bun. She wears these nice modest dresses, nothing showy or flashy. She'd be offended if I said this, but she reminds me of a young Missus Santa Claus. Very jolly, indeed.
She moves slowly, but with purpose.
And then there is her car. It's covered with happy faces. It's a happy face infestation. Most people smirk when they see it because of the blatant reminder to smile. I know because they used to drive me nuts to see all those darn happy faces. If you think that this infestation is a sign of an immensely "happy" individual then you are wrong. Beneath this happy guise is someone who has suffered intense pain. The happy faces convince her life is worth smiling about.
The way Abby talks is another thing. She says things like "See ya around like a donut" and "love you three" when you tell her "I love you too". I think that the way she talks is another way of lightening up someone else's life. This to me is a selfless act of love. You see, Aunt Abby is in her own pain, but she wants to help me, and others, feel better.
My precious Aunt Abby called me last night, and I knew right away something was wrong. Barry's brother called the other night and Barry, who was asleep, didn't know about it. Abby came home yesterday and heard the message.
Abby knows the brother, who works at the Correctional Institution where Rod*ney Linc*oln is, rarely calls. My aunt was very worried he was calling about Linc*oln and she wanted to know why, like, yesterday! My aunt then called the circuit attorney's assistant, who told her that the lab results were still not back. My aunt, I'm so proud to report, did tell her she needed help. She reached out. I am so proud of my aunt because she recognizes that this is something we should confront, and talk about, and heal about. I'm so happy she asked for help.
My aunt cried, and I cried, because I have a rule that no one cries in my presence alone. It broke my heart because I could not help her feel better. But I think she knows now that I love her and cherish her. I understand her, which is even better, and I'm here for her. I tried to make sure she knew that she could call me.
No news about Rodn*ey yet. Maybe soon.
I have to think that God allowed this to happen so that my family could be close again. We have been splintered for so long. Maybe we could close this chasm between us before it's too late.
9:31 a.m. - 2003-10-08
Recent entries:
What you missed - January 16, 2012
%%older_entries%%From hell - October 19, 2010
%%older_entries%%a rant from a few weeks ago - August 17, 2010
%%older_entries%%Tired - June 20, 2010
%%older_entries%%A beautiful lie - March 11, 2010
%%older_entries%%
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