I've Come To Realize That Blood Doesn't Make A Family
Memories that simply will not go away.
There are days when my mind is still full of sad memories,I have moved on in many ways but those memories remain and still haunt me.
I was told by my older sister that my father made my mother pregnant to keep her home,stop her gallivanting.After my birth, my mother resumed her gallivanting and my sister who was 15 years older than me had to look after me,a thing she never forgave ME because she had what I understand to be a narcissistic personality which would only become more pronounced as the years went by.Not having lived up to my father's expectation to stop my mother's escapades,I very quickly became a burden to the entire "family",I came at the wrong time,my sister could not enjoy her youth because she was always "stuck" with me,my brother was totally desinterested in me and at time could even be cruel,and my mother and father had by then separated,when my sister finally left 'home' aged 20,my mother was then "stuck" with me and never let me forget it."if it was not for you" "if you had not been born" Emile and I would be able to take that little holiday.
At time when she wanted some private time with her lover she would pack me on the bus and send me to my father in Marseille,That particular day,I was packed on the bus, (I was 12 years of age), to make my own way to my father's residence,he rented a small flat at the Caserne des Douanes where he worked,I found myself on his doorstep,to be told "I cannot receive you I am waiting for family!" I sat on the steps outside for quite a while hoping he would change his mind,I finally made my own way back to St Maxime by bus,I must say that Marseilles in those days was a quite a dangerous place and still is.I was 12 years old and making my own way alone through the streets.I arrived at my mother's residence,to find the table had been laid with the best china and groaning with flowers,my mother lost it completely "what the hell are you doing here? I sent you to your father," I explained the situation to her and she was ropable,she added a place for me at the table and later her friends arrived and she sort of "explained" my presence to them.During the meal she incessantly picked on me,to the extent that Emile told her to "Please cool off".
That night she had a stroke.
I went to live with my father,there was no other choice, and was reminded everyday that he had to "feed me",as long as I feed you this, and as long has I feed you that.When I visited my brother and his wife the first thing in heard as I walked through the door was "make yourself useful" Eventually I was put in a children's home but the nuns were kind and did not abuse their charges so I have no bad memories of it,in fact when I visited Marseille recently,my friends took me back on a pilgrimage,the place had not changed at all and I cried,because there were GOOD memories there.
I wrote that for myself, to get it yet again off my chest.
There are days when my mind is still full of sad memories,I have moved on in many ways but those memories remain and still haunt me.
I was told by my older sister that my father made my mother pregnant to keep her home,stop her gallivanting.After my birth, my mother resumed her gallivanting and my sister who was 15 years older than me had to look after me,a thing she never forgave ME because she had what I understand to be a narcissistic personality which would only become more pronounced as the years went by.Not having lived up to my father's expectation to stop my mother's escapades,I very quickly became a burden to the entire "family",I came at the wrong time,my sister could not enjoy her youth because she was always "stuck" with me,my brother was totally desinterested in me and at time could even be cruel,and my mother and father had by then separated,when my sister finally left 'home' aged 20,my mother was then "stuck" with me and never let me forget it."if it was not for you" "if you had not been born" Emile and I would be able to take that little holiday.
At time when she wanted some private time with her lover she would pack me on the bus and send me to my father in Marseille,That particular day,I was packed on the bus, (I was 12 years of age), to make my own way to my father's residence,he rented a small flat at the Caserne des Douanes where he worked,I found myself on his doorstep,to be told "I cannot receive you I am waiting for family!" I sat on the steps outside for quite a while hoping he would change his mind,I finally made my own way back to St Maxime by bus,I must say that Marseilles in those days was a quite a dangerous place and still is.I was 12 years old and making my own way alone through the streets.I arrived at my mother's residence,to find the table had been laid with the best china and groaning with flowers,my mother lost it completely "what the hell are you doing here? I sent you to your father," I explained the situation to her and she was ropable,she added a place for me at the table and later her friends arrived and she sort of "explained" my presence to them.During the meal she incessantly picked on me,to the extent that Emile told her to "Please cool off".
That night she had a stroke.
I went to live with my father,there was no other choice, and was reminded everyday that he had to "feed me",as long as I feed you this, and as long has I feed you that.When I visited my brother and his wife the first thing in heard as I walked through the door was "make yourself useful" Eventually I was put in a children's home but the nuns were kind and did not abuse their charges so I have no bad memories of it,in fact when I visited Marseille recently,my friends took me back on a pilgrimage,the place had not changed at all and I cried,because there were GOOD memories there.
I wrote that for myself, to get it yet again off my chest.
80-89, F
