Dating?

My mom started really dating Mike. He seemed to be a real fun guy. We all went to church together and everything was great. Shortly, my mom and Mike were planning a wedding for May. All us children were ecstatic... mainly because we were to be a part of the wedding. My mom decided that I was old enough to be her "junior" bridesmaid and Valerie her flower girl. Vincent was to be a "junior" groomsman and Kevin and our to-be-step-brother, Mikey were to both be the ring bearers. I got this absolutely beautiful satin-y blue dress that slightly fell off my shoulders. Valerie had this adorable white dress and got to carry a parasol with flowers that my mom arranged in it. I was so jealous of the parasol.. and that she got to be the flower girl, but I also felt I was mature enough to let it go. I remember wearing my first pair of high heels (ahhh and my obsession with heels starts) and my mom constantly pulling the straps of the dress back up onto my shoulders. I also remember it pulling at my armpits when the straps were pulled up, and pulling them back down. Then as the dinner and dance started, all my female cousins and I were huddled together. There was a young boy who was about our age who was NOT related to us. He was, at that age, super cute. All my cousins were giggling and blushing about going and talking to him. Not me. No sir. I walked right up to him and asked him to dance. We were just about inseparable that night from then on. Somewhere in that time, my sister and I decided that we needed to sing... in front of everyone. And not a whole song... no. Just a little bit of a song was what we sung. "And I'm proud to be an American. At least I know I'm free.." Yep. That was the song. We also decided that was the year that we were going to go around the school to every class and sing that song. But there we were, microphone in hand, singing A Capella and way off key, but we felt every word. I don't remember what happened the rest of the evening, but I'm pretty sure we all had fun. What kid doesn't love dancing to their heart's content with a bunch of adults?

Where are you?

I have had an overwhelming response to my last post on what to do. However, I am morally unable to continue until I have heard something from the one person I am waiting for. I know that this is my story, but it impacts more than just me.

Tight Spot

So I am in a real tight spot right now. In one way, I really want to get my story out there. In another, I'm afraid of offending people who are still in my life. I have been fighting this since before my last post. I have told my story before out-loud but never in print like this. It is still MY story, right? Any advise?

LIke a mudslide

So my life was like a mudslide at this point in time. Even though my dad had just died, i still didn't believe it. Everything else kept moving whether or not I was ready for it. School kept going. The seasons were changing from winter into spring. Spring~ what a weird thought. Thinking of new life and growth when I still hadn't dealt with death yet. But who should have to deal with death at the age of 9? Dealing with mortality is never an easy thing especially when we~ as humans ~ like to believe that we are immortal for at least part of our lives. Some hold on to that for way too long, and some receive the shock of reality way too early.

My mom was continuing to date, which we all seemed to be okay with. He was young, energetic and liked to wrestle with all of us. His son was funny and liked video games ~ so, in other words, we all got along just fine.

I was unable to process what was happening to us. My life seemed so surreal. It was like when you are dreaming and you know that you're dreaming but it still feels so real and everything in it is so believable that when you wake up you have to think about if it WAS real. I was just wondering when this dream would end.

Missing...

After the week of his funeral, our lives went back to what was to be our new normal. I seemed to be walking around in a serious fog. I had absolutely no concentration. It wasn't until I got my report card that my mom realized that how hard I was taking it. I received my first "F" in social studies. Luckily she, and my teacher, understood why.

Christmas was approaching very quickly. It seemed so surreal to be decorating a lifeless home. None of us knew exactly how to handle the holiday without our dad. When Christmas morning came, knowing that we had even less money than we had in the past, I wasn't too optimistic. We all kind of shuffled out into the living room like zombies just awaking from their death sleep. When I looked, and I mean really looked, into the living room, it was completely full of presents! I had never seen so many gifts in any one room before, and they were all for us. A couple from our church, knowing of our family's circumstances, bought us gifts. To this day, none of us know who the couple was. That was the first year that the Super Nintendo came out and it was there.. right there in our pile. Out of what was the worst tragedy our family could face, we were blessed.


After the new year had come and passed, my days seemed endless. I kept myself going by believing that my dad was really still alive. I wanted to think that he would be home any day now. That he would sweep us all up in a hug that would never end. I wanted my daddy back. I wanted our life to go back to the way it was before. But that was not to be. Our lives were about to change even more.

Later that month, we had our aunt and uncle over. They had asked to bring someone and his son. This man had been over before and had hung out with my dad. All us kids, including his son, were playing the Super Nintendo. I went to the bathroom with the pocket door, and heard some talking from the next room before I went in. I peeked through the crack of our den door and saw my mom and this man kissing. My heart started pounding. I hurriedly closed the door and sat down. I remember repeating "it's not true, it's not true. It can't be". I had always had a weird feeling about that man. I couldn't pin-point it at the time, but it was just weird. So after I was done peeing, I went back into the living room where all the other kids were huddled around the Super NES. I sat down with a complete "deer in the headlights" look. I turned to Mikey, the man's son, and asked him if he cared our parents were kissing. He just shrugged and didn't really care. All I could think about was I felt like my mom was cheating on my dad right in front of my eyes, as I still believed in my grieving world that he would come home, and there was nothing I could do. Nothing.

More to come

Sorry I have not posted anything lately. I have been helping my fiance remodel his bathroom and now I can barely move. I was in an accident 8 months ago and now have some pretty severe injuries in my neck. I happen to always over-do it and end up paying for it for the next following couple of days. I will be sitting down soon to write some more.. so keep your eyes peeled :-D

My life was turned upside down

I refused to believe what had happened. After we found out that my dad was really gone, they came back in and asked if we wanted to go see him. I refused, vehemently. I did not want to be convinced. To me, he was still alive. When his funeral came around and the whole family was joined over the tragedy, I pretended to be perfectly fine. Everyone commended me on my quick action and my grown up attitude. My oldest brother, Todd, told me that I was his hero and he could not believe what all I had done. I accepted the praise, but still refused to admit that he was gone. I had been out of school the whole week but decided the day after the funeral I was going to go with one of my friends who had come to the funeral. We got on the bus in the morning, but by the early afternoon, right after lunch, my mom stopped by and asked how I was doing. I told her I wanted to go home. When we all finally returned back to school, my grades took a complete downward spiral. I would sit in class and daydream that my dad was coming home that afternoon to give us all hugs and kisses and we could all go on with our lives as normal. I had no idea on how to deal with the loss. My mom was also in total shock and denial. None of us knew how to talk about it. So we all let it fester up inside. How do you talk about something that no one wants to believe?? How do you handle that grief? I just pretended that he was away on a trip and he would be coming home soon. That is how I dealt with it the rest of that year.

What you've been waiting for... 4th Grade

My fourth grade year was not my favorite year. To start things off, my teacher was pregnant and we were only going to have her for half the year. I was hitting that horrible stage of puberty that, as a girl, all you want to do is cry or beat someone up. I had a horrible crush on a boy in my class who had no idea I even existed! My best friend was going to a different school.

On November 3, 1990 it was a fairly pleasant day. I had spent the night at a friend's house and was being picked up by my dad that evening. Life was as it had been... fine. I had no idea it was the last day I was to see my father alive. We were driving home from my friend's and he mentioned he was not feeling well. We talked about other things that were of no importance. When we got home, he mentioned again that he just did not feel right. So he went to go lie down and I went to get him a glass of water. When I brought it in to him, he was sitting on his water-bed, against the head board. For the oddest reason, I asked him, as he drank his water, that what if he was having a heart attack. We were fanatics about watching "Rescue 911" and I had remembered when someone had a heart attack on it. He said he did not think that is what it was but he would be fine. I continued to stay right next to him. When he started breathing a little harder, I brought up the heart attack subject again. He said that he still did not think he was having a heart attack. He mentioned that no matter what happened, that he loves all of his children with all of his heart and all equally no matter what. He clutched his chest with tears. Then, he told me I should probably call the Cloquet Memorial Hospital (we did not have 911 out there where we lived so I had to look up the number in the phone book) and tell them my dad thinks he is having a heart attack. I burst into action. I proceeded to tell the operator my name and address and what was going on. I told her that I knew I had to stay calm in order for them to understand me and for me to understand them. The woman kept asking if there was someone older in the house. I had to tell her that my mom had not returned from work yet and the only older person was my older brother but he was in the other room. My dad continued to get worse and worse. I kept telling the woman that she needed to send out an ambulance right away. She kept asking to talk to someone else. I could not get it in her head that I was telling the truth. All of a sudden, my older brother, Vincent, and little brother, Kevin, were wrestling and Vincent got a little rough and made Kevin cry. They both came running into the room. Vincent noticed something was not right but Kevin had no idea. My dad started yelling at the two of them. That was when the woman realized that I was telling the truth and she needed to act immediately. She told me I had to get my dad to calm down and stop yelling. After Kevin left and my dad had calmed down and I had filled my older brother in on what was happening, I handed the phone over to Vincent. I ran out into the living room where my younger sister, Valerie, and Kevin were watching television. I was crying into my hands while just standing there. Valerie asked what was wrong. I was in such shock I was unable to say anything. She ran into our dad's room thinking that I had hit my face on something. After a few more seconds, I really had the feeling I should be back in the bedroom. When I got there, Vincent was on the bed, holding the phone in one hand and pounding on our dad's chest with the other. I grabbed the phone from him and yelled at the dispatch woman who did not believe me from the beginning "MY DAD IS TURNING PURPLE!!" and threw the phone back at Vincent and pushed him out of the way. I climbed on top of my father, pinched his nose, tilted his head back as best I could and gave 3 huge breaths. I tried breathing my young life into his purple body. I breathed my whole soul. I then wrapped my hands together, put them on his chest and pushed with my whole body to pump his heart. I pushed and pushed, and breathed and breathed. All of a sudden, he gasped and looked at me. Then all of his life left him. I screamed again. Pushed my heart into his chest, my breath into his lungs. When I was too exhausted to do any more, Vincent took over. I remember when I left the room, my dad was completely purple, his lifeless body was strewn across the bed, his arms were above his head, and his fingers were crossed. My sister and I went toward the living room when we heard the door open and closed. My mom was walking in with her brief case with a smile, unknowing what was happening in her family. Valerie and I both came into the room, yelling "Daddy's dying, daddy's dying!" My mom's smile faded into panic as she threw her brief case and went running for the bedroom. I felt completely helpless. I decided to go out and curse the sky. As I was out there, I also figured I should wave down the ambulance if or when it arrived. We had two driveways because we lived on the corner. Our closest driveway was not our actual "address" and our other driveway was way down by our garage. I saw the flashing lights and ran to the road. They pulled up into a neighbors driveway and I went screaming after them. They did not see me pointing their way to the closest access so they parked by the garage. When they came running up to the house with the gurney, I showed them the way to the room. My mom came out into the living room with all of us. We huddled in a circle, praying and crying, and hugging and crying. When the paramedics came out with him, they told my mom she could ride with. Our neighbor came over to bring us to the hospital behind the ambulance. When we arrived there, we had to wait. Waiting under circumstances such as those is longer than an eternity. Finally, someone lead us into a private room and all I heard was "I'm sorry" before the door closed.

Poor? We never knew..

Before I move onto my fourth grade disaster, I want to tell you a few things of my life before then.

When we were growing up, we never knew we didn't have any money. My mom was a stay-at-home mom for most of our lives although she did dabble in things like Home Interiors (she was very good at it) and she did the home decorating section in JcPenny's. My dad was going to school to become a M.D. and he was also a musician. That's actually how my parents met. My dad was playing in one of the local bars and my mom was a waitress there... After some glances across the bar and some flirting, they hit it off. So back to my dad going to school and singing. He played for quite a few events and I remember going to many of them. At most of them, my sister and I would go up to complete strangers there and started dancing with them. We were always like the little mascots of where ever we went. It was so much fun. He was going to school at the U of M in Duluth. I remember going to a few of his classes. My little sister even got an honorary UMD cloth diaper when she was an infant. We lived in a beautiful country house.. or at least we thought. It was a little run down, but it had enough room for everyone. We made it home. Sometime in 3rd grade, one of our big huge dogs that had been shot passed away. He had been such an awesome family dog. The bullets had finally moved into his organs and he had been coughing up blood and finally went. Shortly thereafter, we were getting ready to go camping for the weekend. There was a terrible thunder and lightening storm, so my dad put the other dog into a junk car we had. In the morning, we were finishing up packing up when my dad remembered the dog. When he didn't come back for a long time, we all got anxious. We then found out that he had forgotten to crack a window and our beloved family dog died in his sleep. It was probably for the best, for he also had many internal injuries from being shot.

I was a serious daddy's girl. Everywhere he went, I wanted to go to. When he was studying, I wanted to help. I seriously believed that I could do his math homework. He rarely got short with us... except with my sister and my room. It was a pigsty and he would let us know it. He was a dark, tall and handsome man. He was one of the most beautiful men I have ever known...and he knew it. The women loved him. When we were little, he was a very unique father. He would take each one of us out on a special day with daddy. We would go to the park or out to eat at our local Perkins. It was a time to really get to spend one on one time with him. When I was about 8, I started having insomnia. He would grab his guitar, start playing and sing me to sleep. When that stopped working, he would help me meditate to fall asleep. As I said, I was daddy's girl.

My third grade...

We were living in a quite country house on a couple of acres. When I was 8 and in the third grade, my life started its dramatic change. One fine Saturday morning, while cartoons were on the television, my sister and I were having a competition on who could jump the furthest by swinging in between two couches. I decided to put my ALL into the jump. I landed hard on my neck. I got up and told my siblings who were all staring at me with gaping mouths that I was alright. All of a sudden, the pain sunk in. I started screaming and had to hold my head up with my hands. I was making my way to my dad, when my little sister came running by my yelling "Erica broke her neck! Erica broke her neck!!!" My dad came tearing out of his bedroom. He instantly laid me on the floor and made sure I knew not to move. He then lifted my legs and covered me with a blanket. He called the local hospital to dispatch an ambulance because he thought his daughter broke her neck. When the paramedics arrived, I had gone through shock and just severe pain remained. They asked me to move my arm.. so I moved my left arm-the one not in pain. They laughed at me and told me to move the other one. I looked them straight in the face and said, "No!" They told my incredibly worried father that they believed it was only a clavicle break. They took me by ambulance 30 minutes into Duluth, MN to the main hospital where my doctor was waiting for me. The x-ray technician made me sit up to put the film under my right shoulder. I cried out in pain as I had to lay on that stupid, cold, hard film. THEN they made me sit back up after the x-ray was taken. The doctor came in and stated that my right collar bone was completely broken and that I was lucky the bone had not poked through my skin. They sent me home with just a brace that I was to wear for a very long time and instructed me that if I did not maintain proper posture, my bone would be completely crooked. When I walked from the car into my house, I felt like I had to watch where my feet went otherwise I was sure to fall and break the other collar bone. My older brother made fun of my relentlessly until I had to pretend to not look down while I was around him. That year in school, I had the meanest, most strict, most evil teacher ever. We ALL had one of those teachers at some point in time in which everyone knew they were the worst, and there was no way to avoid them. So when I returned after taking a couple of days, that specific teacher was standing in the doorway... just waiting for me. Amazingly, she smiled. I had someone help me out of my jacket and put my things in my desk. Later that week, when my jacket had fallen onto the ground, instead of her usual punishment, she had someone else go and hang it up again for me. She was actually a sort of decent person to me. To everyone else, she was the devil. A month or so later, I had gotten used to not having to look at my feet in order to walk so I had ran an errand to the office for my teacher. As I was making my way up the stairs, I slipped on some melted snow at the very top and went tumbling all the way down. I let out an ear piercing scream of pain. In 2 seconds flat, I had every adult on that floor running to my aid. There were 4 teachers and the librarian all there to pick me up, get an ice pack, and grab some tissues for my tears. After that little incident, I found it best to watch exactly where my feet were going to be stepping, regardless of how much I was made fun of. Being made fun of was a lot better than the physical pain. The rest of that year was fairly decent. I was the typical 8 year old.. chewing my pencils until they were just wood-chips; spreading elmer's glue on my hands and waiting for it to dry so I can peal it off to see my hand print; and trying to get away with as much mischief as I could, especially seeing as I was the special student of the year :D

That is, until 4th grade came... Things went for a straight dive down.

Bigger

After I was born, we were living in Lincoln Park in Duluth, MN. We had this beautiful house that had natural wood work. My oldest brother would "hang" me from the header on the doorway between our dining room and living room. I was about 9 months old and I would just hang on as tight as I could. When I was able to move around on my own, I would just do what I wanted. One day, as my mom and brother were outside doing yard work, I decided I needed to go inside. My mom looked frantically around the house for me. Right before she was going to call the police to report me missing, she decided to check my bedroom again. She decided to move my bed out from the wall and that is where she found me. I was curled up against the wall and had put myself down for a nap. My brother and I would always put our toys into the wooden banister caps and they would always magically reappear the next day. Our mom would dig them out after we had gone to bed every night. We moved out onto the Indian Reservation out in Cloquet, MN when I was still very young. We then got two HUGE dogs. They were later shot; Thunder had lower double digit shot wounds and Lightening had close to 15 gun shots. They both lived, but my mother was so terrified that we would be next. So while she was 8 months pregnant with my baby brother, we all moved to a different area on the Rez. Right next door to us, there was a fantastic family. The youngest was a little girl my exact age. We became very best friends and even wore a path in the woods between our houses. My whole family called me Beaner because I was just so little, but I would cry and whine that I hated that name and I wanted to be called by my real name. I also was able to figure out a way to control myself while being tickled. But instead of having no reaction, I would tell the instigator that I was going to scream. When they would come closer, but not touching me, I would let out one of those blood-curdling, ear-piercing screams that makes you want to dig your head into the sand. After a few years of living on the reservation, we found a huge house for our huge family just north of Cloquet. There were my dad, my mom, my older brother (but not my oldest), me, my little sister, and my baby brother. My other siblings at that time were my oldest sister, my oldest brother, another sister we didn't know about yet, and another sister who's step-dad wouldn't allow us contact with her.

My birth

Okay, so my birth doesn't sound too terribly exciting, does it? Well, I guess it's the best place to start. So my mom already had a 18 month old baby and was 5 months pregnant with me when my father finally married her. The very next day she was unable to fit into her dress. So a few months later, after many hours of horrible back labor on my mother's part, I came into this world... purple and not breathing. I was just a little peanut weighing in at only 5 pounds and 15 ounces. My head was certifiably cone-shaped and my umbilical cord was wrapped nicely around my neck. After the doctor was able to cut the cord from my almost lifeless body, I started to come around and pink up. It was smooth sailing after that.. until....