29th of March 2008
The Love of Family
Today on my way home, I went by to see one of my Grandmothers (Della). Della is a nice woman that I’ve written about before. Della lives with my Aunt Jeannie in an apartment that was prepared when the house was built. I’m not close with Della and don’t see her as often as I should given that she is within distance, however, I see her more than I see the remainder of my immediate family.
Terrell was with me today and it was the first time he met Della. It is funny because we come in to this world knowing only one thing…how to love. What isn’t funny is the ones we love have the rights to return that love or to choose not to return that love. I am constantly reminded that family is not always the ones we were born with, but those people whom we choose and who choose to love us are as much if not more family as the ones we joined this world along side.
Every other week I rest assured with my choices in this life. I am at peace knowing that while my family ostracizes me, I will be there if and when they ever care to open that door again. It hurts when you find deception in any situation, but the pain is far greater when treachery is delivered on the cold wind from those you choose to love. During my visit with Della, she tells of a small family reunion that took place over the Easter holiday. I was neither told of this event nor invited, which was a purposeful deliverance by those in my family. The pains of Love are the ones that hurt the most as well as the deepest.
My family has purchased one hundred percent into allowing the hate filling their heart. They revulsion for my writing is epoch. They odium is that I share such sensitive family secrets with the world at large. It does not matter how by sharing the past and present with you, how it has helped me come to terms with myself. It does not matter that by helping the many kids, teens and adults with the varied subjects I write about has continued helping me come to a place of peace while it has also allowed me to learn how to love myself again.
My given family has cut me out of their lives with the skill and precision of a surgeon and the ease of a scalpel slicing through warm butter. They made their choices without thought to the consequences of their actions to either themselves or to me. This battle has been fought since I joined this family and if there is any reason I was placed with this group of human beings it is to somehow remind them what true, unconditional love is all about.
During the procession of the family reunion; I was told how my older sister – Kimmy became enraged when the notion that our father hates his own children was denounced by our Aunt Tricia, who is my fathers twin. Tricia and my father have a love/hate relationship, but I have witnessed on several occasion the bond that is shared between them. I personally feel twins do share a bond that a brother or sister cannot understand. To share the same egg and cell that started their existence says everything about the fact that their hearts beat in a synchronized manner. With this understanding, it is very perceptive that if anyone might know how our father thinks and feels, his twin would be that person.
Tricia argued this statement ardently, which enraged Kimmy and led to her early departure. I can see both sides and why any of his children might believe he has neither love in his heart for those he birthed or desires any of us in his life. He has not made any efforts to have a relationship with any of us and when faced with the few opportunities he receives to assist any of his children, he denies those advancements unless doing so gives him something over their lives.
I can also know that out of any of my aunts and uncles, Tricia would be the one sibling to distinguish what is truly inside our father’s heart. No, I don’t believe that my father (Kenneth or Ken) hates his children. Just as I don’t believe he would ever go out of his way to do something for us either. We all make choices in our lives and my father made one when he married his second wife (Cheryl). Cheryl first came across as someone who wanted to help bring about a relationship between Ken and his children. As with many southern women, they wear masks that enable them to slip in and out of characters depending on the people they are confronted with. Cheryl is precisely that type of southern women taking off one mask and putting on another as people enter and leave her presence. She will always come across as the gentile southern woman, but turn your back and the mask of spite, hate, control and dishonesty will show as the true face she presents to all. It is through means of control that Cheryl has removed Ken’s children from his life and has wedged us apart with great success.
I understand and agree with how Kimmy and all of my siblings can know that our father has forsaken each and every one of us. He has never been a party to our lives. It has always been our mother each and every step of the way…even today. Our mother has done her very best to be there for us and it breaks her heart to know that the man who planted a seed turning into his sons and daughters, did so by nature, but without any heart or with the lack of conscience that would at some time during our lives might bring him to us ready, willing and able to show love and interest. The balance that must be maintained in the daily life for my father denies his ability to recognize his children.
Ken knows exactly what she has done with not only acceptance, but reverence as long as Cheryl allows his liaisons while remaining married to each other. In doing so he willingly pays the price for his acts of sexual prowess by the removal of his children from their lives. The choices we make will eventually show the price we pay and the equally harsh one paid by those who suffer. I will probably not hear by Cheryl when Ken dies just as I question if my immediate siblings would let me know as well. This is where the pains of love cut deeply and are far more difficult to heal…much less ignored.
The fear that my family would do something to cause extreme pain to me solely because they loath my new gift of writing and the fact that they are sometimes the subject of my text seems to have an easy remedy. These thoughts weight heavy on my heart due to the fact that my Grandma Scott, Della and Ken are all in poor health. Grandma Scott will pass soon and I am beholden to my siblings and mother to notify me when she passes to a place with such immense love. Likewise, I will be dependant on my family to let me know when Ken or Della passes from this earth. I hope personal vengeance is set aside when these times come just as I hope that love will eventually win and family becomes more a focus rather than the in fighting that seems to be happening.
So, when does family mean that the blood pumping through your veins is more than a liquid maintaining your life? When does love equate to family and the two are so interchangeable, it is difficult to tell them apart?
Your humble servant – Todd M. Dobson








