Ok, I made the changes. Hopefully mom will approve of them when I read it to her. I promise I won't be posting each page everyday, but I thought it would be a fun way to announce the fact, that I'm writing a book. I'm hoping to share with you my challenges and findings along the way.
Please keep in mind that this is a rough draft, and I am very tired- basically feel free to overlook any errors. I think I've fallen asleep writing this at least three times, and the words are starting to get fuzzy as I drift in and out of dreamland.
Here goes #2:
There I was standing on the side of the road at the young age of five. I wasn’t alone. My neighbor was holding the hand of my little brother Stu who was three, while cradling my baby sister Suzie in her arms.
Our lives had forever changed. We would never be the same. All of the innocent childhood pleasures I had previously experienced would not be found again. Yes, I would again experience moments of joy and laughter, but those feelings never lasted. Eventually loneliness and a longing for my parents love would seep into my bosom. This was my burden to carry for the remainder of my days.
No child should have to suffer the loss of their parents. The pain of that, does something to you. It creates an emptiness inside you, that can never be filled. The thing that tormented me the most, and continues to do so, is one single word-- “why.” Just a simple word, and yet for me, this became an all consuming, bitter question. Sadly, too familiar. This word would haunt me for the rest of my life, and would invariably stir up a wave of immense emotions within myself.
I could feel the tears swelling in my eyes, but I would not let them see me cry. I didn’t want anyone to see the pain I was feeling inside, and I definitely didn‘t want anyone feeling sorry for me.
“WHY?”
This question was searing my heart at that very moment. I was so scared, so lost. My whole world had shattered into a million little pieces.
I remember that day as clearly as if it were yesterday, the sun was shinning in a sky so blue. There were a few clouds here and there, and the gentle breeze made my baby sister’s dress flutter against her tiny body. She was crying while the neighbor lady was trying to sooth her with a bottle.
I didn’t realize it then, but what she was craving was my mother’s breast. Now when I look back on it, I think she was suffering just as much as I.
My brother Stu eventually let go of the lady’s hand and had sat down in the dirt to play with rocks. Every so often he would try to throw one across the street. He didn’t say much, but he seemed confuse, and would sputter the words “momma, dada” in the tone of a question.
I wish I could say that I had wanted to be strong for my siblings, the way Mommy and Daddy had been there for me, but I wasn’t thinking about them at that time. I was only thinking about me, and the pain I was going through.
It felt like we were standing there for hours, time went by so slow. The sun had started to beat down on us, and the breeze no longer kept us cool. Just when I thought I could no longer take the sun’s beating rays, a long brown station wagon turned the corner.
I could see a woman in the drivers seat, and the car was filled with children. Their faces were familiar. I remembered that they had come to visit our home one year earlier. She was my Aunt and the children were my cousins, and although I didn’t remember their names, I did remember that I did not enjoy them visiting our home. I guess I was shy, and not accustomed to being around such a large crowd.
One memory of their visit, that stood out in my mind was how I sat on a stool in the kitchen, trying to find a safe place where I could keep to myself. I enjoyed being alone. I remember my cousin Nancy approached me. Something about her helped me come out of my shell. It might have been her smile, or maybe her kind disposition that made me feel comfortable. I’m not exactly sure what it was about her, but I felt I could trust her. Little did I know that she would again reach out to me, and help me not feel so alone.
It was nice to see family members, but I was apprehensive about living with them. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to find a place to cry where no one would see me. What I really wanted, I couldn’t have.
We would now be a part of their family. This transition would be a difficult one for me. I would be going from the oldest of three to a middle child of eight.
There’s a certain pride that comes with belonging to your family and I wasn’t ready to say good-bye to mine. My name was Deborah Lamar Harper, the Hancock name should have never become a part of me.
The car stopped just in front of us. The sound of the car doors closing, penetrated my being. As they walked up to greet us, I felt overwhelmed. The mother had tears in her eyes, and reached down to give me a hug. It felt awkward and uncomfortable and I felt fear pulse through me.
She didn’t say much, maybe just a hello. She thought it would be best if I was given one last chance to say good-bye to my friends. I’m glad that my soon-to-be mother thought to do so, for this gave me a chance to have some closure.
I played with them for a while, and when it came time to leave, I couldn’t help but wonder, “why did I have to loose my family, while my friends were aloud to keep theirs?”
Little had I known the night before, just how different my life would be the following day. I would have to say good-bye to everything I had ever loved- my friends, my home, but most of all- my parents.
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