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Reunion - 1995
My siblings and I were taken away from my mother and stepfather in 1959, as detailed in Rescue - November 1959.
I did not see her again until 35 years later.
In April of 1995, Amou and I went to visit my mother, unannounced; I had her last known address, but she had changed her phone number, so there was no way for me to call her. I had regained voice-only contact with my mother in 1986, but there was no other contact beyond phone calls and letters.
Tracing her down was strange right from the beginning, because when we got to her town, there were two choices of direction to take. I felt which way to go; drove for maybe a mile, and then stopped at a gas station to find out where the road was.
The guy behind the counter looked at us with a gleam in his eye and asked if I had a stone in my pocket; we were literally a stone's throw away.
Then; we couldn't find the house; the addresses were not right. Yet I somehow knew where she'd be; beyond a new highway bypass that had bisected the original road. We stopped at a few houses, and found out that my hunch was right. We drove to the other side of the bypass, and found the road again - and I knew which house was the right one, because out in front was a bicycle which had a very well built trailer attached to it, one that my mother had sent me a picture of while I was still in New Jersey.
We parked the truck next to the house, and knocked on her door.
She opened the door, and I knew her; but she did not recognize me, nor had she ever seen a pic of Amou. I said her name as a question; she said "yes?" - and I quietly said "Mom, it's me... your son, Terry".
Her eyes got real big and she started gasping for breath as she grabbed me and held on tight, real tight; crying and gasping. Beyond her I could see my brother Danny and younger half-sister Rachel, looking at me very puzzled.
Amou was holding me gently, tenderly from behind. Mom then said "come in, come in", all the while hanging on to me - and she told my brother and sis who I was; the look of absolute shock on their faces. My sis looked scared and started to cry; my brother... it was like looking into a mirror... a younger mirror...
Amou kept looking at Danny and me, eyes wide; and when my mother finally let go, Amou had my brother and I stand side by side first so my Mom, sis, and her could see the incredible resemblance - and so they could then to take a pic of us. Mou took these pictures during our first and second visits.
The house was small and cramped; I'm glad Amou and I had set up the truck so we could sleep in it and have some privacy.
That first visit went well... on the surface; the undercurrents were another matter entirely; my sis was very wary of me, understandable considering that she recently been threatened by a bearded older man - and I have a beard.
My sis, still recovering from years of abuse within the foster home system, asked our Mom if it was OK to hug me, her brother... and Danny just sat there, eyes wide, stunned - My brother.. my full brother... the product of my dad raping my mother after they had separated, rapes at which I was present, a terrified five year old kid...
My dad had disowned my brother even before he was born... and my mother's new husband Lester adopted him, claimed him as his own... She was several months pregnant when she met Lester...
Their lives exhibited all too well how survivors who cannot obtain help and have been refused help cope... They were noisy, loud, constantly interrupting each other with questions, by sharing their own lives; many times yelling at each other as they each tried to tell Mou and I about their lives over those long years of separation from me and Peggy...
Lester had died roughly 10 years previously, and they still have his cat...
Mom hinted obliquely about the abuse, talking only about what she was doing to try "to straighten up the kids"... speaking with pride about how she had "gained miles with Rachel "... and in the same voice and pride sharing how she does not hesitate to smack them when they've done something wrong in her view...
And.. she also talked about my dad, verifying what I had already learned through other sources.. his beating her when she did not jump or submit to him... and the venom, the hatred in her voice was intense, nearly overwhelming...
Mom spoke positively about herself and what she had accomplished since 1981... and about sis's artistic abilities and Danny's creativity and the awards they'd received for their work at state and county fairs... and she made sure we knew that she'd taught them those skills...
Sadness too, hearing Mom talk about some of the good things that happened when I was a kid.... and on that first trip, being caught totally by surprise at breakfast...
She had spelled out my name in pancakes... like she had done when I was a kid, when I was 7 years old... I hadn't thought about that for years... I took one look at that long platter... and bawled.. crying for what had been, what could have been... and what never would be... crying in my Mom's arms like I used to do by myself when I couldn't comprehend what was happening to me as a kid... those years when she herself was not able to realize what was going on, not able to help me or my siblings...
Amou and I only spent the one day there that first visit... it was all we could take... both of us were numbed? overwhelmed? by what we had seen and experienced...
Another thing that happened, that first visit... my sis saw the bumper sticker on the truck (Believe the Children); looked at me, then at Amou.. and asked "is that like when children get abused, tell, and no one believes them?"...
The look on her face - of pain, comprehension, and hope... and on my Mom's face of devastation and anguish, almost betrayal... she'd asked me not to talk about any of the past in front of Danny and Rachel (though that changed in later years); repercussions of abuse indeed... "don't tell, don't talk about it, hide it" ...yeah, right?
Then, a week after Memorial day 1995, we went to see her a second time...
This time, they knew we were coming... because we were bringing Amou's five year old cat Nessie to live with them...
My mother takes excellent care of animals, and Nessie simply had not been a happy cat with us... and had done some major damage to me when I tried to spray her for fleas.. and earlier had done similar damage to Amou when Amou had tried to get her in the carrier for a trip to the vet to deal with a skin infection... Nessie adjusted rapidly to her new home, and was purring in Mom's arms by morning...
The house was less cluttered and claustrophoic this time, and even more was shared by them about their lives... sadness too, because each of them at various times complained about each other; lots of blaming and finger-pointing going on - some valid, some not - but all handled in abusive and non-constructive ways... that too has lessened greatly over the intervening years...
That weekend... leaving home knowing I'd have to work on my brakes within the next couple of weeks, figuring they'd last long enough to get to Mom's and back... and finding out I was wrong... So, I had to do the brakes while there during that second visit... that Saturday...
Mom took Amou and I to a local parts store where I got the brakes and tools needed.. dropped off Amou at local shopping center within walking distance; Mom stopped under the overpass on the way back, out of the sun so we could talk privately... she spoke with pride of my sister, of me, of Amou... and told me NEVER to let go of her...
She shared too about my sister being in the "teenager" phase... how my sis had asked Mom what "recovery age" she was in, and Mom told her that she was a teenager, mimicking her... and sis responding "how'd you know that Mom?" ...and Mom using the cliché' answer... "I was a teenager too"...
Yes.. she was... and she was a child too... or was she ever given that chance? ...like so many of us, her childhood was also stolen... with devastating results to herself and to us children...
She shared with me how as a child... on her first bicycle, she had gone to an area of town she had been told not to go to... to find her father... her half sister had repeatedly told her "you don't have a real daddy"... Mom's parents had divorced while she was a toddler...
She also said even though she loved my brother, she could not stand living with him because he was a slob, always yelled at her and sis... I pointed out that they all yelled at each other, and drew parallels to my own life with my ex-wife... I could tell she was hearing me, seeing the parallels...
Got back to Mom's house... truck was parked on a large concrete slab next to the house... Amou and Mom sat down to watch my brother and I do the brakes... Fixing the brakes, my brother helping me; Mom and sis watching... watching as my brother and I fixed the brakes and installed the oogah horn my son had given me... listening to their comments about themselves as they watched really crystallized a lot for Amou and I...
My brother Danny - like my son - has a natural knack for mechanics; it was fun working with him, watching him come ALIVE and smile and grin as we worked together, brother grease-monkeys... a team... brothers...
We got one brake done, then broke for late lunch.. Mom took all of us to a local KFC where there was an all-you-can-eat buffet... and Amou and I listened as the three of them launched various diatribes at each other... and watched each of them shut down... yet when any of themn talked to Amou and I alone, they lit up, came alive...
Went back, and my brother and I continued on the next brake... then, as I put the tire back on, I handed my brother the manual and asked him to look up how to take the dashboard apart... this was so that he and I could install the switch for the new horn...
A little while later, I went to the cab; my brother had put the book down and was unscrewing the small panel where I wanted to install the switch... he told me the book was not clear on it, so he had figured out how to take it apart anyway... I found out he's barely literate... first-grade reading level...
We located a small hole in the floorboard and widened it for the wires, and my brother figured out how to route the wiring between the floorboard and the wheel well.. by then we were working with flashlights, and decided to complete it the next morning...
Amou had gone inside earlier to escape the no-see'ums and to read; and to take a nap... so when we came in, Amou and I went back out to have some time together alone and talk.. precious time together.. and shared what we had been seeing, what we were experiencing and feeling... it was all hitting us both real hard; so many resonances on so many different levels... and my Mom had not yet gotten the message that Amou is allergic to cigarette smoke, thus further necessitating our retreat outside.. heh, that too has changed; my mother quit smoking a few years back, and the house is a definite no-smoking zone.
I could tell Amou was deep in thought, spacing to some extent from high overload... Mom and sis and bro constantly showing us things, catching us up on decades of history, accomplishments, and traumatic events as well... information overload, overwhelm...
Amou and I are glad for that truck and camper shell... privacy...
Amou and I verified for each other much of what each of us had been thinking, seeing, observing... the incredible lack of self-esteem in each of them; complete disregard for each other's boundaries; how they each ganged up on each other... how much sis was echoing Mom...
The next day... my brother and I were doing the final installation of the horn.. he was to my right, and out of the blue he looked at the scars on my arms, touched my shoulder gently, and said "I remember what grandpa did to you" ...and then he went back to working on the truck as if he had said nothing...
He knows...
but doesn't let himself know that he does... and because of Mom's being protective, my brother did not know - then - that he is my full brother... and he believed my last name is different because I had been adopted in 1959...
That was corrected; fast.
A little while later he showed us how he had set up his bicycle with a homemade trailer; the whole setup was a marvel of engineering; and Amou told him so 8*) He LIT UP, amazed that anyone would find him resourceful and tell him that... he does not know how to handle anything positive, and he craves it, needs that... Sis is much like that as well - as is Mom... no surprise there to me, considering how our society automatically looks down on folks like us as "poor white trash" and treats us accordingly...
Amou and I headed home shortly after that... numbed and overwhelmed, how the repercussions of abuse and the lack of tools and knowledge to cope with the results of that abuse reverberate down the years and the generations...
So much to think about and process...
So much more still to learn and discover...
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