Family is all she's got
Dear Journal,
I’ve been through a lot in my life. Nobody said it would be easy, but a warning would’ve been nice.
When I was 11, my father ran out on my mother, my sisters and me. I never knew why and, to be honest, I still don’t. My mother never wanted to talk about it so I was left with no answers. A couple of months later, mom seemed a little tense, to say the least. A week after my 12th birthday, she claimed to be ‘emotional unstable’ and dropped us off with her sister.
Aunt Sue was young, wild, and loved to party. She was nowhere near capable of taking care of three kids. I basically took care of me and the girls. One night, I overheard my aunts’ boyfriend, Nick, say that he wasn’t tryna be nobody’s daddy and if she didn’t get rid of us, he’d leave her. I was sure she’d tell him off but I guess she felt the same way because we were suddenly put into the system. I was heartbroken. Who was going to take care of us?
About a month after being in Simpsons Adoption, a couple was interested in taking my baby sister, Kirsten. I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t want anyone to split us up. We were all each other had! Thankfully, I was wrong. My grandparents came to adopt us. I don’t know how they found out but ... they say prayer works. They swore that as long as they were alive, they would take care of us ... because we were family. For once in two years, I felt like we belonged; we were loved.
Just when I thought nothing could go wrong, my grandmother was put in the hospital. She had cancer and it was spreading all through her little body. They never wanted us to find out but it was too difficult to hide it at that point.
“Why did you keep this from us?” I remember asking.
“Oh, Abby. You kids’ve been through so much. You’ve taken care of yourself, your sisters ... I didn’t want you to worry about me too.”
That’s when I realized I had to stop thinking of myself. I was 15; I needed to grow up.
My grandmother was in the hospital for a week. The doctors were doing all they could but it wasn’t enough. The cancer had spread too fast and her little body couldn’t take it. March 14th , my grandmother, Agatha Murray, died. There were a lot of tears after that devastating Tuesday. While Grandpa Harry was still in mourning, I tried to be strong for everyone. I tended to the chores and my sisters so he had nothing to worry about. He started to isolate himself more and more, lodged in his room. It was official; when grandma died, pieces of him died too ... until he was all gone. He died in his sleep a few weeks later.
With no desire to be put back in foster care or passed off to another relative, I decided to take care of my sisters on my own. When I turned 16, I got a job and thanks to the money grandma and grandpa left us ... we were covered.
A year has since flown by and I gotta admit ... I wonder what life would’ve been like if things were different. You know, the two-parent household with the white picket fence and getting to experience being a kid. No foster care, no parents running away from their responsibilities, no dead grandparents. But the fact of the matter is ... there’s no time for that. When you’re an only child and times get rough you take care of you. When you’re the oldest, you take care of everybody. I understood that responsibility then, and if it means keeping me and my sisters together, I don’t mind it at all. My sisters depend on me and we’re gonna get through this ... together.
Love, Abitha
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