So much hurt. So much pain. So many memories both good and bad. I haven't seen either of you in around 8 years now. The last time I saw you mother you were laying in a hospital bed seemingly wishing you were dead. The last time I saw you dear stepfather was the same night when you realized it was me in the hospital room and you attempted to physically throw/push/shove me out of the room.
I really could have done without seeing either of you today. However, circumstances did not permit the pleasure of avoidance I have enjoyed for so many years. I would have waited all night long before attempting to go onto the property with either of you there, but my sister and her mother in law were on a time schedule and needed to get things done.
With several deep breaths I made the decision to just do it. Climbing in the van and following Julie down the long driveway my heart only beat harder and harder with every inch we drove closer to the house. What will you say? What will he say? What will either of you do? Will violence of some sort be involved yet again as it had so many times in the past?
Julie and her mother in law step out of their vehicle and approach Clem, her father, my stepfather. With one last breath and a quick glance at my husband I said, "I have to do it. I can't leave her (Julie) out there alone." I quickly jump out of my van before I could change my mind and holding my head high I walk up.
The look of surprise in Clem's face is astonishing. Dear Clem, did you think you would never see me again? Did you really think that you would never have to face the things you have done to me in the past? Are you surprised that I am strong and unwilling to back down? After all these years, after all the lies, after all the pain here I am once again. You, Clem will not win.
I hold my hands up in the air and state, "I am not here to cause trouble. I simply came to support Julie. She asked me to come and I am here for her." Clem stutters something that I cannot understand and I take the moment to proudly introduce my husband who is standing guard behind me. Julie and Clem are talking but I realize that my heart is pounding so loudly I can hear it in my ears.
They begin to walk towards the house and Julie glances over her shoulder at me. For a fleeting moment I see that little girl I once knew in her eyes. My feet begin to carry me and I catch up behind her following her into the house. Clem calls out to someone we cannot see but know it's you mother. "Can Janet come in?"
Are you serious? Can Janet come in? Really? I think in my head. Of course Janet can come in. This is MY great grandfather's house that you have sold out from under the family without a care or concern in the world. I WILL come in whether it be now or later. The time doesn't matter much to me.
You stand up from your chair and come towards me with your arms open as if the years of hurt, anger and lies were never an issue. For peace sake I hug you and almost forget that I mustn't fall into the trap again of "being loved." Neither of you are capable of what love really is. The two of you have dished out so much pain, lies and hurt through the years that now you have to hire strangers to help you pack and move. You both have alienated your family on both sides so much that you are scared now what either Julie or myself may say.
Both Julie and I play it "nice" and I simply stand there as she walks through the house attempting to locate items that once belonged to her. I being uninterested in most things simply gaze around the kitchen scanning for any items that had sentimental value to me. My eyes settle on a huge roll of twine that had belonged to my great grandfather. Without taking two seconds to think I grabbed it and head for the door where my husband is standing in wait for us. I shove the roll of twine in his hands and he instinctively turned to put it in our van. I go back inside and stand in the kitchen acting as if nothing ever happened. Obviously, neither of you notice what I had done when you return. Inside I feel a sort of triumph. You wouldn't be able to take everything from me.
Julie makes a few more passes through the house with the two of you and I abscond my old wooden baby gate which had been lying discarded on the floor. Again, triumph!
Both of you return to the kitchen where I stood innocently and began small talk. You, mother had the nerve to ask me where my Uncle Bill had recently been buried. Only for respect of him did I answer you and explain that he had been cremated. I didn't provide any other information. I didn't have to. You didn't seem too interested anyways.
As Julie and I were preparing to leave I gathered the courage to ask you for the old antique knobs off of the cabinets. Surprisingly you said yes and Julie and I began to unscrew them all in lightening speed. Somewhere after the 4th or 5th one being taken off you laughingly muttered, "What you don't have enough yet?" And I told you, "No," as I kept unscrewing as many knobs as I could get off.
Julie and I then said some parting words (Me mostly mumbling about having to be back home to San Antonio soon.) and we walked out the door. To my amazement neither of you followed us which gave both Julie and I enough time to grab the two metal shoe grates that Pat O'Neal had made years before and run to our vehicles with them.
Neither of our vehicles slowed as we made the trip back up the driveway to the road.
About this blog....
Welcome to Things In My Rear view Mirror. This is a collection of stories based on true events throughout my life. Some are very good memories, some are not so good. However, all are written from my point of view at the age they occurred. No harm, pain or otherwise negativity is meant with my writing. This blog is intended to help me heal as well as share with those important in my life the good, the bad, the ups and the downs that make me who I am and who I am proud to be today.
And no, I do not and will not change names.
And no, I do not and will not change names.
All material, stories, pictures, videos on this blog and all it's pages are completely and fully the original work of Janet Jones and are not permitted to be used in any form without express written permission of the author Janet Jones.