Forgive or bleed open heart

I tiptoed back up the stairs. Halfway up the stairs it began to squeak. “Oh no, I can’t let her see me.” So, I went back down the first half of the stairs slowly. I had to think of another way. It was cold outside, and I could hear her walking around upstairs. So I went into the basement door and grabbed the first coat I could see with my slippers already on my feet. I quickly wrote a note to aunt Musu saying, “I’m sorry Mommy” and did what I knew best. Slowly I opened the front door, trying to prevent it from squeaking. A few minutes later I was out the door. I ran away, but this time was different. This time would be the last, but the first into my new journey. I walked and walked and didn’t know where I was going. I found myself going towards Aunt Musu ex-husband house, my family who were living in the home together with Aunt Musu and I before leaving. I missed them and thought that would be the last place that aunt Musu would look for me. Standing at the door for some minutes contemplating if I should disturb them with my problems, wondering what if they called “Mommy” and told her where I am? We were all afraid so they might be scared to even have me over. I let all the thoughts out of my head and knocked twice, and then another two knocks. The door opened. I stepped in the home with the big black coat on me. “Gloria what you doing here (Liberian English)?” She asked. “Does Mommy know you’re here?” “I can’t go back there; I’m not going back,” I replied. Then my other cousin who’s a bit older came downstairs to hear what was going on. “Oh Gloria you’re here, why you got that big coat on?.” “It’s “Mommy” coat, I couldn’t grab my own so I took hers,” I said. They started laughing and I smiled. “So are you going back or staying here?” he asked “I’m not going back.” “You know she’s going to find out you’re here and come for you, right?” I had hoped he wouldn’t remind me of that, but he was probably right. Of course she was going to find me there, but for that moment I felt safe, and it would take hours before she would figure out where I was. I told my cousins that I wasn’t going back. “Gloria we know how mommy is, but you know you just have to hold your heart and bear it small until you reach eighteen and can leave,” he said. “I can’t bear it for that long. Y’all don’t understand what has been going on at least here y’all altogether and Pa is not like Mommy. There’s some kind of freedom. Y’all were able to leave with Pa, but me I couldn’t. I’m not going back; I’m tired (tears running down my cheeks).” My other little male cousin came down the stairs, surprised as the other two were. “(Liberian English) Oh what you doing here? (smiling) Mommy know you here?” the constant surprise and repeated questions had me smiling. “You better go home before le catch you here and beat you.” Me: “When mommy come to that door I’m not here ooh.” (We all laughed.) “You know Mommy, I'm scared of her,” he said. I stayed and went in the kitchen to my girl cousin who was cooking cabbage at the time. There was a knock at the door. My heart started suddenly beating faster as the minutes and knock kept coming. My little male cousin came downstairs asking, “Who’s that?” as my older cousin went to the window to check. “It’s Mommy,” he said. My little cousin ran upstairs as quick as possible saying, “I told y’all I’m not here.” My other female cousin said, “Aahh she’s here ooh, maybe she will go if no one answers.” My older cousin still thinking what to do. “But she saw me opening the window curtain, she know we here.” “Then open the door now,” she said back to him. “Please don’t open it,” I asked him. “Y’all open this door before I call the police,” we all heard “Mommy” say from the opposite side of the door. So he ended up opening the door and you could see everyone’s heart pounding from under their clothing as we all said, “Hi Mommy.” “(Liberian English), What you doing here, ehn? What are you doing here, come on get your ass out, let’s go!” Aunt Musu said as she pointed towards the door. I stood there quiet and didn’t utter a word nor did I move an inch. “I’m talking to you, if you don’t leave this house I will call the police and they will lock you up and I will send your a** back to Africa,” she explained. As she continued speaking, “I know you came here for man business, (pointing to my older guy cousin), but if you want man go find man somewhere else, now get out.” “I’m not going back with you.” As I uttered the words out of my mouth, I could see the shock on everyone’s face. We were all waiting for the heavy smack across my face. But it didn’t happen. “If I leave this place, and you’re not in that car with me, just know all of y’all getting in trouble with the police for letting her inside this place that’s a charge for y’all.” We knew nothing about the law and I’m pretty sure that was all incorrect information she was giving us, but as naive as we were, we somehow believed it. Aunt Musu left the house and went outside into her car. My cousins persuaded me to go with her and I went to meet her in the car. It was a short ten-minute ride filled with silence and anger that made it seem longer than it was. As we arrived home I went directly upstairs to my room. Ten minutes later I heard Aunt Musu on the phone, so I came out and sat at the top of the stairs. She was on the phone with my father who lived out of state. After a long conversation with him, she called me downstairs and handed me the phone. “Hi Daddy.” Him: “Hi Gloria, how are you doing?” Me: “Not good.” Him: “I know, so your aunty and I just spoke and she told me what’s been going on, and that you want to put her in trouble. She said you don’t want to live with her anymore; is that true?” Me: “Yes.” Him: “Okay so, what I want you to do for me is to write a letter, telling her thank you and how you appreciate her, but in that letter let her know where you think will be best for you to go live. Let her know where you want to live, okay honey? Because either that or she sends you back to Africa to your mom. Do you want to go back to Africa?” Me: “No (I honestly wanted to say yes). “No,” was on my tongue automatically, with no explanation behind it. Him: “Okay, then please write the letter so we can know where you feel will be best for you to be until you turn eighteen. Because Your aunty says you don’t want to be with her anymore and I myself can’t take you. Now she doesn't want you there either before you put her in trouble.” Me: “Okay, but I don’t want to put her in trouble.” Him: “Okay Ma, I understand . Please write the letter okay, then we will take it from there. And tell her sorry.” Me: “Okay Daddy.” Him: “Thank you, ma.” I gave the phone back to Aunt Musu and went upstairs to write the letter. I wrote a three page double-sided letter on yellow paper, expressing myself and following the directions of my father. In the letter I thanked Aunt Musu and apologized to her, not because my father told me to; I sincerely meant every word that I wrote. When I wrote the list of people who I felt would take me in, mainly only three places I could think of, and the first place that was emphasized in the letter was her son’s place, where I stayed and felt the most wanted and loved, the place where she had no idea about what had happened with Uncle Morris and me. Despite what happened, I still wanted to go and live there because it’s where I honestly at the time felt the most happiest, the most family togetherness and I had friends. I wanted that feeling back; I yearned for that peace again, and writing their names in this letter was my opportunity to regain a family. I also put my aunt Mandy on the list where my grandmother was staying as well. I felt that my grandmother loved me so much that staying where she was would be wonderful and I would be happy. I explained my reasons for choosing those two places and with confidence I knew I would be wanted by the people I listed. But I also put on the list a third option for just in case, and that was my aunt Olu. Her name was barely on the paper; there was no explanation behind why I chose her name because I did not think there was a possibility of me residing with her, nor did I even believe I would be allowed to. I wrote her name, just in case. Before the day ended I handed Aunt Musu the letter when she came home. I told her that I was sorry for everything, and she took the letter from my hand. She read it later and the next day after her morning shift at work she called me downstairs. She said she had read what I wrote. Then she told me I could not go to live with her son. Then she explained to me how my aunt Mandy did not want me to live with her because I was a troublemaker. I was devastated and heartbroken with nowhere to go, and my father was out of the question. He had already told me I couldn’t live with him. I had forgotten about my third option “Aunt Olu.” Aunt Musu continued speaking as I dozed off in disappointment. “So I am going to call your Dad and let him know that I’m sending you back to Africa.” Aunt Musu called my father that day and they talked for almost an hour. The next day she called me downstairs and handed me the phone. It was my father on the phone. He asked me about the letter and what was said in it, and also talked about the names I wrote about where I want to stay. He told me that Aunty Musu’s decision to not allow me to stay with her son and his wife, and Aunty Mandy’s decision to not let me stay with her was final. So the only option was to send me to Africa, but he called Aunty Olu to tell her that I was going to be sent back to Africa and she suggested to him that she will take me into her home. Then I remembered putting her as my last option. I fought for years to forgive my father.

There was still a void; something that was stopping me from “complete freedom:” Something was wrong somewhere. I thought I had already blocked this out and had forgotten all about it. But deep down inside I knew that the emptiness within me could only be filled through the act of “FORGIVENESS.” Not just forgiveness for others that I felt hurt me, but forgiveness for myself for wrongfully hurting others who only wanted to help me, and for wrongfully hurting myself and not loving me. For me to forgive myself I had to fill the void. This void came from my father. He was the man I loved so much without really knowing much about him. I wished he did not abandon my mother and me. He was the man I had hoped would’ve told me more behind his reasons for leaving when I asked him at age sixteen. He was the man I blamed for my mistake of losing my virginity, the man I blamed for not being there to guide me about not dating older guys. I would have wanted to have a fatherly figure because he was already that father, the man I didn’t want to love and wished I hated at times but couldn’t find it in my heart to stay away from wanting him in my life. I knew he was a wonderful father, but just not to me. He was the man I hoped to prove me wrong about him letting me go. I knew I had to forgive my father because my entire life surrounded the first decision he made before I was born. I realize that despite all the improvements in my life I still wanted to be “daddy’s girl.” I still felt unhappy. I was searching for love in all the wrong places all my life and all I needed was my father’s love. Although I had told myself that God is my Father and his love was the only love I needed, somehow, I would still cry on Father’s Day, or I still felt a void. I believe that God chooses our parents for a reason. I also believe that our stories are thought out for a purpose, so it was not a mistake when he created my dad for me. It was all in his plan. I have learned so much from the absence of my father. I have also learned a lot from his presence. I called my father and told him that I forgave him, and the reasons why I was hurt. Moments later I texted him these words: “Hi Daddy, I’ve been a little distant. I’ve been this way because I’ve felt disappointed. I’ve felt a little hurt and the only way I felt I could handle these feelings was to distance myself from the core of it all. But it’s more hurtful to me and more damaging than it is helping. I deserve love and I truly believe that God needs an empty heart and a clear heart, mind, and spirit to pour that love into my life. So I am letting go of all the daddy issues I had up until this very moment. I am letting go of all the missed birthdays, empty promises, broken hearts, father-daughter conversations, the missed protection, and everything that I may have needed from you growing up. Although I am letting go of these things, I will not let go of you. Your absence has somehow blessed my life and thus made me the woman that I am today: strong, positive, determined, caring, loving, forgiving, promising, and God-fearing. I was set aside by God. I am blessed with the people that have surrounded my life in your absence. I am doing this for myself. After I send this to you I know there will be a freedom that I’ve never experienced because of my daddy issues that weighed me down. I didn’t want to admit this to myself; I didn’t want to admit that your absence in my life was affecting me. I didn’t want to give you that victory over my life so I blocked it all and now I’m opening the door and letting go. I’m unblocking it all. I proclaim that I am free, empty, cleansed, and purified (like a virgin). I am ready for that authentic love that God is about to replenish over me. I thank you Daddy, I love you Daddy, and I will always love you. I will always be there/here for you; do not EVER hesitate to ask me for help with open arms. I am your daughter and I will gladly give what I can, and however God allows me to thank you. Love you always. We talked for about an hour, and His response gave me peace within. He mentioned how sorry he was, and that he loved me. He wants my happiness and if I decide that I would be happiest with him out of my life completely, he would respect my decision. But, he is here and ready to turn the page and start fresh. He wants to be in my life more and connect with me. He wants us to communicate, although he is in another state. If I need anything, he told me I should just ask. That’s all he wants is what makes me happy because it is my life. I appreciated my father’s words and whether our relationship was going to develop from there on was not my immediate concern. My heaviness was uplifted at that moment. I had forgiven my father and finally was able to forgive myself. Our relationship grew from there; I became comfortable with him and he was real. He started sending me fifty dollars a month and put me on his phone plan. I did not care about the amount; what I saw was him putting in effort and that meant a lot to me. I tried not to think about all the things he was doing for my half-sisters; instead the focus was on our relationship. My efforts to continue going to school and proving him wrong for letting me go had changed. I was more focused on going to school and being a wonderful young woman for myself and my family as a whole. I still understood that he had another family that he was dedicated to. One thing that I knew for sure was that I loved my father and he loved me.