It  hurts my head to go back and open all the files in my mind….it’s so unclear.The one thing I do know is that the marriage was hush hush and took place  a month after my mom passed away.Finally she was the  woman in the negligee that my dad had called the cleaning woman( passed blog) I was shipped to my uncles home ( the “C “of C & M ) and my sister was at my moms best friends who became like family of course.We were separated and this should never have happened,ever.The reason I have no doubt for the pain that was to come and the emotional fight we’ve alway struggled with.I know that at the young age of eight my little sister fell silent for a good years time.Her little precious face and little tiny body went quiet….she spoke not a word for about a year.Where was I ? Why were we not together….who could have made better decisions for my father who was not present or honestly fit to do this.I often wonder how the adults allowed for this.My sister and I should have been close….so close.Thats one huge hole in my heart which open the flood gates all to often.When surrounded by love,support and family we could get though so very much.The comfort of having a family that you could go to in itself is healing.We were torn apart and the family I so adored, cherished, loved and idolized came to be but another tremendous disappointment.Love is a strong word as is hate….I could very safely say that the love wasn’t real and that I will never hate as a result of this….but my heart is scarred and the outcome isn’t easy to deal with.It does create one highly sensitive human being.Everyone has dreams.I have always wanted a family,a real family….a family that I could truly say is mine.You could pick up the phone and say whatever you need to say.Ring the doorbell and walk right on in.No matter what your differences you still come together for special occasions and holidays.Some thing that just never was in my life …once again food was my comfort.

A collection of dollar bills…yes one dollar bills a memory in itself.All signed by friends with bets on sporting events and or a gift of good luck and safe miles for a new vehicle.It must have been the thing to do back then as she had many….and also a habit  that I inherited and often do today.Rummaging through bags one day I found a very small brown leather wallet. Opening it up with much curiosity it was my moms wallet.A little card peaking out with an emergency contact which wrote “incase of emergency please contact  Maurice Auger ..C&M Textiles”…I felt the chills running through my body as both of them were no longer here.My moms license was amongst the few papers….and I keep this in my drawer and hold it tightly every once in awhile….makes me feel her next to me and makes me wonder what it would have been like to have her .I also treasure photos and most of all my parents wedding album….I sit back and often wonder what life would have been like if their eyes hadn’t  closed so soon…..I did see my mom after she passed and was horrified as they  taped her eyes shut….it scared me.Sadly,I would  have wanted to see my dad in his last minutes as I have no doubt in my mind that something could have been done to save him…..this is definitely for another blog to come..but at the very least to say goodbye..at least .A fond memory  of a painting that once decorated the wall in the home I grew up in  was given to me awhile back by my sister…although it needs some TLC it could be re framed and made a home for one of these days to come.It will be near the clock that back in an earlier blog about the hypnotist had given my mom.It is a beautiful clock that was brought from Lebanon .So these are what I hold on to…and I guess at the end of the day nothing could be more valuable than a photo when the real memories are so foggy……the rest is materialistic so I am now at peace with this.It’s all in the past and nothing could change a thing except for my letting it all go and sharing as I am doing.I thank you for sharing in my journey and allowing this to be whatever it will ….❤️

The house was full of people rummaging through my moms personal belongings.All of her collections of dishes,platters,gifts from Lebannon and Brazil from guests that occupied our home many times over  the years.Her jewellery her favorite pieces that meant so much to her ,her hand made needlepoint chairs….all fresh for the picking.REALLY? .. Being thirteen and my sister 8 didn’t give us much say.Yes,you may ask where my father was through all of this? If anyone knew my dad at all let’s just say he did not make the best of decisions but let’s not be fooled many adults that were there grabbing  definitely knew better.If I myself had ever been a part of this as an adult I would have been ashamed  …I wonder how these people could actually come in and  grab things that were spread out on our living room table with out feeling guilty and simply wrong.I won’t go into detail of what I do remember being taken or the people who filled  the many rooms in the house but the memory is there.I could share many a story but this would just not be fair.The memory remains however I don’t dwell but as I am re telling my story this must come up.So I have no doubt that food was still my best friend.It was there it soothed the hurt.I was eating my emotions. The food wouldn’t reject me. I thought it simply comforted me….I was just filling that void,the fears,confusion and the pain ,the feelings of being alone and not belonging and simply just stuffing it in but we all  know the answer  and that this would solve nothing but however start a vicious pattern of battling with food.Such a painful and forever fight….that continues to silently sit in my shadow.A forever battle….