Beau and I continued
emailing, instant messaging, and phone calling for almost a year. I learned I had 2 sisters and a brother
outside of Tyler, Texas. That his new
wife had a daughter in Carthage. I made
plans to meet her soon. Not long after I
spoke with my siblings on the phone for the first time. They had not always known of my existence. They were of some age before they were
told. It was not long before we all
became friends on Facebook.
My
relationship with Beau continued for almost a year. His new wife did not like me much. When I told her I wanted to come up with her
daughter and her grandchildren to see Beau, I was told, “When my grandchildren
come to see me, I want to visit with them, not you. Y’all are always so needy.” I would call and she would not give him the
phone. He was in the shower, at work, in
the shop, or taking a nap. Finally I
began to understand that one or both of them did not want to talk to me
anymore. He promised me things that
still have not come about. I sent him a
message and told him that I saw him as a coward, because he would not stand up
and fight for me against his wife.*
I still get
a birthday email from him, but I have little communication with him other than
that. I did not tell my mother I had
been in contact with Beau until it was all over with. Keeping that secret from her was one of the
hardest things I have ever done.
I told Jay
that for my 36th birthday, I wanted to meet my siblings. So in March of 2012 plans were made to meet
and visit with them. I asked my mom to
watch the farm for me, so she spent the night.
The house had been cleaned top to bottom, before she came to stay. As I got in the truck I told her we would be
meeting at my siblings mother’s house.
“You’re going to Sandy’s house.
The woman your father left me for,” she said. I told her yes. She walked in the house and that would be one
of the last conversation she and I would have for 2 ½ years. I have never heard her call Beau my father at
any other time in my life, before or since.
We drove to
Texas on a Saturday morning. We met that
afternoon. Oh I will never forget seeing
JM, my baby brother, for the first time.
He just embraced me and would not let me go. I instantly fell in love with him. JM stared back at me with the same brown
eyes, that I saw every day. The same
ones that so many times in my life I had wanted to ripe out. No one in my family had brown eyes but
me. But JM did. I never understood why I am artistic. But JM
did, he’s an incredible metal artist and painter. I just could not physically let go of
him. I felt he would slip away. My sister Ashley was beautiful, warm, loving,
and a really good mom. My sister Elisha and I had history.
When I was a
senior in high school Elisha had been having trouble in her life. She transferred to my school and lived with
family. One of the cousins had warned me
that she intended to whoop my ass, because of the way I talked about Beau. I avoided her at all costs. She never got a hold of me. Years later our meeting would be tense, but
cordial.
In later
conversations with my siblings I would find that Beau really could have cared
less for Elisha and Ashley. He loved
them, but took no interest in their lives. It was JM he lavished attention
on. A cross that JM still caries to this
day, that he was more loved by Beau then his sisters were.
Sandy,
Beau’s second wife, was gracious and pleasant to me. I am not sure that I could have done the same
thing in her spot. I sat and talked with
her for a few minutes to show her the few treasured photos I had of Beau. I also showed her photos of my mother in the
hospital. She never knew. She told me, she had not known about me,
until later in her and Beau’s relationship.
Out of respect for my mother I have had very limited contact with
Sandy.
I had the best time visiting with my
family. I was coming home, riding on a
cloud. I felt so good. I could not stop smiling. My face hurt from smiling so much. I felt whole for one of the first times in my
life. I got a call from my mom. I don’t remember what she told me. She made allusions to the fact that I was
with Sandy, and I had better come find somebody else to watch my farm, because
she was leaving. I hung up with her and
called Melinda. It would still be a few
hours before I was home.
Melinda was
there when I arrived. My goats were
screaming. When we looked in on them we
found grain on the ground. I had
explained to my mother very clearly that you have to put the grain in their
bowls, or they will not eat. So
basically my goats had not eaten in two days.
No wonder they were screaming.
They were starving!
Punka was
lying in a pile of her own piss. She had
obviously not been peed that morning.
There were dirty dishes in my sink, when the dishwasher was empty and
magazines thrown about my bedroom floor.
If I had done this in my mother’s home, she would have said that I had
“trashed” it. There was a nasty note
taped to my refrigerator. Basically
don’t call me, I’ll call you. I was
devastated. I sank in the chair and
cried. I don’t care what you do to me,
but YOU DON’T EVER FUCK WITH MY ANIMALS!
We took poor Punka, peed her, and bathed her. Poor child, I have no idea how she was like
that.
It took us a
day or two, but we began to notice things that were missing. Weird things, some things my mother had given
me: my red lawn chair and a bag of oranges.
I would not notice the main thing for six months. My Oma had a large collection of amber. In Germany it is considered very
valuable. We have large pieces and
necklaces that had been passed down in the family. I wore these pieces in ritual. My mother knew this. I thought they were locked in the safe.
I made a new
apron dress, and from it’s hooks I intended to hang my three large strands of
amber. I went looking for them. I could not find them. I tore up the house looking for them. I could not find them. Finally I put in a call to my father, who I
still had a relationship with. He
laughed. “You just now realized they are
gone. Yeh your mom took them to punish
you!” I wanted to come through the phone
and strangle both of them. I said you
need to return them to me now. You have
24 hours or I will call the cops. He
told me, “No.” Twenty four hours later I
called the cops on her ass. Oh that shut
her up! Within a few hours one of the
three strands was returned to me. To this
day she says she cannot find the other two.
I believe that is a bold faced lie.
Either that or Holda has hid them from her, so she cannot find
them.
My mother
stole them from what I call my working altar, where my book of shadows
lies. I still in many ways consider it a
hate crime. Imagine if someone came in
to your church and stole your candle sticks off the altar, same kind of
thing. The only reason she did not steal
the rest of my amber is it was locked up in the safe.
I finally
called the cops off of her. Mom said
they belonged to her, and I said they belonged to me. There was no documentation either way. I begged her to get counseling. She refused.
She would tell me later that she stole from me because, she was afraid I
was going to move in with Sandy and like her better. What???
I’m a grown ass woman, with a husband, a home, a farm, and animals. Yes I am going to sell everything and move in
with her. How fucking stupid can you
get! So she decides to hurt me, because
she can’t get over her own shit? Fuck
her! It’s been 35 years! Give it up and move on!
After she
robbed me, we did not speak for 2 ½ years.
We began talking about 9 months ago, two days before her stroke, because
I could no longer stand to see my father in such distress over us not
speaking. It is only for my love of him
that I do this. My relationship with my
mother is still complex and difficult at times.
I have slipped up and told her that I loved her a few times, since we
began speaking again. I don’t know after
what she has done to me, if I will ever really love her again. I damn sure don’t trust her.
She has
begged me for forgiveness, and tried to explain her actions. I have told her repeatedly that forgiveness
is a Christian concept and one I am not obligated to follow it. We are our deeds. She must take culpability for her actions in
her life, and how she treats others. I
believe she will never do that. I had a
councilor once tell me that given the father my mother had, it is surprising
she learned to love at all. I learned
long ago, the kind of love she gives, I don’t want.
Ilsa
*Beau would
tell me years later when I reestablished a relationship with him that, he had
felt like I “put him on trial.” I was
very much my mother’s mouth piece. Beau
was the one who avoiding me, Nancy was being protective of him.
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