Читать книгу This Is Not the Life I Ordered - Deborah Collins Stephens - Страница 33

“My mother exploded with all the rage of an erupting volcano. How could I ever think that my father would do something like that? How could I think that? What was wrong with me? But if Mom could not believe what Dad had done to Mary Jane, how could she ever believe what he had done to me? I felt numb.

“The memories of those moments in the kitchen seared into my mind as I stood at the foot of my father's deathbed. Did I have the courage? Did he have the strength? Was this fair for me to do this now, or ever? Here was my chance, and I had become that young girl again, waiting for someone to take my hand, unable to string two coherent words together. The opportunity passed.

“We took time to say good-bye. Even though Dad was in a coma, the nurses told us he would be able to hear until the end. When it was my turn, I curled up on the bed next to him and whispered: ‘Dad, we both made mistakes, and I am sorry for that. I forgive you.’ I felt the tension leave his body.

“In stark clarity during that moment, I realized that I was no longer that abused child. My choice to hide myself, into adulthood, made me into an abuser—of myself. Through my father's death and becoming a mother, I realized that those events that had happened in the past no longer defined who I was or how much I deserved in life. Enough. In that moment, I broke free of the past and fully jumped into my life without fear.

“When our book was published, it caused great anguish in my family. My mother cried, two brothers stopped speaking to me, and one died from a heart attack during that period. An uncle was convinced I had lied to sell books. It was painful. Yet, my sisters always supported me. They never waivered.

“The publication of our book cleared a path for my mother and me to talk through the events of my childhood, and the wedge between us disintegrated. When she asked why I hadn't told her, her words melted away my resentment at not being heard and our relationship deepened until her death. She was a beautiful, loving mother and friend with an impish sense of humor.