A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots" Marcus Garvey
From the other side of this life my spirit chose to slip into my mother’s futile womb
By the time my mother, Adele (Della) of Hispanic/Apache decent was 27 years of age she’d have nine full term pregnancies with four different donors. Her first child, my older brother, Ray died at two months, never leaving the hospital when she barely turned 16. Ray’s father (Spanish decent) was never involved.
Mom got pregnant by my father (Native American) less than a year after Ray’s death. They had a brief relationship, and he also left once he knew she was with child. When I was born she had recently turned 17.
One year later, my mother met Jim (German decent), a Navy man, and born the same year as Della. They would marry, both 18 years old, and he would adopt me when I was four years old. Jim would be the father I only knew until I found out different at the age of twelve.
Jim and mom’s first child together was stillborn and severely deformed. They would never name her.
The next five children: Frankie, Gracie, Jamie, Betty, and Vickie were Jim’s.
Mom’s last child, Ruthie was from another man (Mexican decent). My mother was very fertile. I often think she may have been a feral cat in a past life after being pregnant back to back for so long.
Both Jim and mom were ill equipped in parenting, after all they were so young, and I suppose did their best with what they knew. You can’t give what you don’t know, thus, many years following were full of chaos. Jim was more out of our lives than in. A sort of footnote. It took years to come to terms with my past and make sense of my existence, and to forgive those that trespassed onto to me.
From my birth, in the fall of 1955, to when I left the home of my mothers house at the age of 17, I would live at 27 different addresses beginning in Phoenix Arizona, traveling from one end of California to the other; the south tip San Diego to the north tip of Redding and numerous towns in between. As a result, I often believe I may have been a gypsy girl in my previous life.
There is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open. Luke 8:17
My only brother says he had his finger on the trigger of a Winchester pointed to his heart, his finger ready to pull, had I not called him on this fateful day. While in the depths of his unhinging grief, he really didn’t want to die when he picked up his phone on the second ring. He only wanted his psychic pain to stop. He was drowning deep into the pit of the dark night of the soul. Very bad memories once buried deep within him, from the roots of his body, were just starting to rear its ugly head coming up for air, but he couldn’t see the memory, only that the memory felt agonizing. He’s pushing back the veil of the unknown.
It was I, his oldest sister that kept him...