Urn:oclc:record:1033668010 Extramarc University of Alberta Libraries Foldoutcount 0 Identifier giftedhandsbenca00cars_0 Identifier-ark ark:/13960/t0xp8n99b Invoice 11 Isbn 9780310546511Ġ310546516 Lccn 90008326 Ocr ABBYY FineReader 8.0 Openlibrary OL16976127M Openlibrary_edition For weeks I pounded my mother with every possible argument my mind could conceive, trying to find some way to get her to make Daddy come back home.Access-restricted-item true Addeddate 15:08:33 Bookplateleaf 0008 Boxid IA165412 Camera Canon EOS 5D Mark II City Grand Rapids, Mich. And my questions didn't stop with my tears. I don't know how long I continued the crying and questioning the day Daddy left I only know it was the saddest day of my life. I couldn't imagine a life without Daddy and didn't know if Curtis, my 10-year-old brother, or I would ever see him again. To my young, hurting heart the future stretched out forever. That stopped in 1959 when I was 8 years old and Daddy left home for good. He would scoop me into his arms and carry me into the house.
“Daddy! Daddy!” I'd yell, running to meet him.
I'd watch until I saw him walking down our alley. Many afternoons I'd pester my mother or watch the clock until I knew it was time for my dad to come home from work. “Thought you'd like this,” he'd say offhandedly, a twinkle in his dark eyes. Sometimes Dad brought us presents for no special reason. Of course nothing worked, and I'd soon lose interest and play with something else.Įven though Mother said that Daddy had done some bad things, I couldn't think of my father as “bad,” because he'd always been good to my brother, Curtis, and me. Sometimes he'd say, “Guess you're just not strong enough,” and I'd push even harder. Dad would sit quietly, letting me play as long as I wanted. “Look! They're back again!” I'd laugh, trying everything within the power of my small hands to make his veins stay down. I'd push them down and watch them pop back up. I particularly liked to play with the veins on the back of his large hands, because they were so big. He was often away, but when he was home he'd hold me on his lap, happy to play with me whenever I wanted him to. My heart was broken because Mother said that my father was never coming home again. Looking back, I don't know how much of the reason for my father's leaving sank into my understanding. Once again Mother tried to make me understand why Daddy was leaving, but her explanation didn't make a lot of sense to me at 8 years of age. “But I want him to stay here with Curtis and me and you.” “It's more than just forgiving him, Bennie-” “Your Daddy did-” Mother paused, and, young as I was, I knew she was trying to find the right words to make me understand what I didn't want to grasp. But as soon as she loosened her hug and let me go, my questions started again.
Gradually my sobs died away, and I calmed down. I just can't.” Her strong arms held me close, trying to comfort me, to help me stop crying. “Did I do something to make him want to leave us?” “He loves you too, Bennie … but he has to go away. I just could not accept the strange finality of my mother's words. “Why not?” I asked again, choking back the tears. And your daddy isn't going to live with us anymore.”
0 kommentar(er)
