A Thousand Yard Stare at the picture of my past

Looking through pictures and I wonder....
How is it that for someone who would crave the attention from her friends and family, someone who sought it out with vigorous effort for many many years can actually end up with so VERY few pictures of her children with any of those friends or family???
I have no ego anymore and need to get some things out and into the open (hence the writing).....

I was one of many who did not have the cookie cutter life growing up. That sentence just made me giggle. My mom and I headed for the hills on a cross country trip from California to Chicago when I was real little, I couldn't have been older than about five years old. My mom still often will tell tales of that hair raising trip she took. She packed up her belongings, strapped me in a seat and drove through mountains, endured a couple intensely frightening situations, drove long and far with Chicago as her destination. Back home for mom.

Both of my parents were born and raised hard core Chicagoans. My father was moved out to Cali after my grandma noticed my dad & uncle were getting into a bit of trouble as a teenagers as well as to somehow protect my phenomenally gorgeous aunt who was the youngest. Thanks for trying grandma. My mom grew up close to my dad and they were friends but hadn't gotten together until years later after he was in California for a while.

My Aunt, mom's only sibling, and cousins still lived in Chicago. My grandma was tucked away for a while, before grandpa's passing, in a little town called Knox, Indiana. I really loved that town, the little Dairy Queen down yonder & the big ol' drug store that sold just about everything.

My parents had a love that grew for many many years even before they had gotten together. I was born out of that amazing love not long after they reunited when he returned from Vietnam. We lived in my grandma's house in Garden Grove where I was surrounded with family until my mom's move. When we moved to Chicago my mom and I lived in a really cool apartment on the bottom floor. We didn't have much but I was so loved I didn't know the difference between have and have not. My mom worked her fingers to the bone and eventually was even able to send me to private schools for most of my education. Only a couple times did I attend public, one year a public school attempt was due to hours of begging and not for financial reasons.

My father would go back and forth between trying to be a great dad here and going back to California. Please understand that when in Vietnam my father was the sole survivor in his platoon. He was a man who hated war. He wasn't the same person anymore. He was ill. His intentions were good. He was injured and even refused to receive his Purple Heart award. I respect him for that, I do. I love my father even if I didn't understand him then, I do now. I hurt, ache, for him now.

I grew up becoming quite attached to my cousins and aunt in Chicago. So much so that I started to almost believe I had brothers and sisters. Though many a night I would ask my mom when I could go see everyone in California but my mom would never entertain the thought of me leaving her sight for too long. She brings it up plenty these days how she wished she would have kept me closer to them.

The last time I saw my father was the day he left to go back to California. It was merely days before his departure that my father had promised to buy us a house and we even discussed that we would get a Great Dane to add to our little family. I will never forget that. My mom dropped me off, after picking me up from school, with my dad but he was in a real big hurry for some reason and didn't talk much. He made me nervous. Soon enough he took me across the hall, knocked on the door, and explained to our neighbors that he was in a hurry and had to catch a flight. He asked them to watch me until my mom got home from work. I gripped him tight, I began screaming, crying and begging as soon as I realized what was going on. To no avail. He let go of my grip. The strangers grabbed me and pulled me in. In a flash he was gone. He wasn't coming back.

Not long after, my earthly father was received into heaven. It was Dec 30 when he was taken from everyone who loved him. I was only a year older than my oldest son is now when cirrhosis of the liver took my dad.

This is always a strange time of year for me. So is the issue of alcohol. I myself have fought with that demon.....and I won!

After the years go by and I look at the small picture of my past I realize that nothing is perfect. I can't be so upset all the time that I don't have the connection I deeply crave with my family out in California. I shouldn't hold this deep regret for the loss of time with my father, my grandparents, aunt, great aunts or even friends who have passed. I can't be sad that after I endured a very unhealthy marriage which resulted in much needed divorce how I somehow lost even more family and friends here in Chicago. I've wasted too much time with regret.

I am now coming to a peaceful understanding that people may come in and out of our lives when they do for a reason. What reason you ask. I don't know for sure. I just know that I'm not the only one in the world who has felt the sense of loss or feeling out of place somehow. I also know that out of everything tough there IS something beautiful that can happen as result. I know I will teach my children the importance of exposing themselves to family and friend's that they love as much as possible, even if I'm not an expert these days.

I am currently on this path of learning all of life's lessons. I appreciate everyone who has touched my life in whatever way they have. I will not have regrets even if I have made a million mistakes. I am also working on building a strong sense of contentment and a peaceful mind when it comes to the fact that dynamics change between people and not to to be upset by this. I've learned to keep to myself and put all of my efforts into my family but will try to keep my heart open and available. God and universe will bring people in and out of our lives for a reason and we learn something from everything I suppose.



This song has provided me comfort many times.  This is the song my dad asked his buddies, the band America, to dedicate to me during the very first concert that I can remember.  I was his little girl, held high on his shoulders, when the band dedicated this song to "Dominica" in front of the many people who surrounded us.  This song has forever impacted my heart. This will forever provide me comfort knowing how much my father did love me.