Should I Be Relieved?

My world had just turned upside down. New blessings awaited her. As she learned a new language she met her incredible husband, best friend, and cornerstone. Together with their three kids, Iraima has found her greatest joy. Iraima describes family and parenting as the ultimate test to become something in life. Her real success has come after overcoming parenting pitfalls, through learning, forgiving, and understanding. I hadn’t heard from her in more than a month. In fact, I hadn’t heard from anyone in my family during that time. I felt anxious just seeing her number and name come across the screen. I’m calling to tell you the news about Dad. He’s gone. Her voice choked on the last few sentences.

A Sort of Homecoming

My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. There’s a funeral this weekend. It would be nice if you could come home and be here. My head was swimming. I didn’t know what to think or feel. Could this really be happening? My adoptive father had caused me so much pain, and now he was gone without warning. Should I be relieved? What would everyone think if I went home? What would they think if I didn’t? Of course, I had to go home for the funeral! I didn’t get to say goodbye! When my Grandpa passed, I felt I needed to reconnect and show my support. He was Dad’s father, and I knew it would mean a lot to him. I had never had a close relationship with any of his side of the family. They were all so formal, and gatherings with them were rare. Who could blame them? Our household of 10 kids would overwhelm anybody. Little did I know that coming home for Grandpa’s funeral would change everything.

Human Nature

Secrets came to the surface that had seemed a thing of the past, but they were all too fresh. I had to do something. It was time to speak up. After coming back home and calling my therapist to get advice and clarity, I made a report to Idaho Social Services. Little did I know that the whole family would shut me out, and worse, send me regular hate texts accusing me of being evil and manipulative. When did I become the perpetrator? Or didn’t they remember? The next few days were a blurring whirlwind. I had always hated that drive. I felt sick with the odor of cattle farms and factories. It was a crude reminder of what was coming. I saw his body lying in the coffin. He looked so peaceful with what appeared to be a strange curve of a smile at the corners of his mouth, as if he would wake any moment from a Sunday afternoon nap. Conflicting emotions coursed through me when I was coerced into singing his favorite song, ’Wind Beneath my Wings.

Ignorance Deprives People Of Freedom

He had an irritating way of loving music that made me crazy. I was the last to leave the gravesite, sobbing and longing for understanding and forgiveness, and hoping he now knew that my intentions had been pure in wanting to protect my family. Dad had been called a hero throughout the funeral service for having pushed her off and saving her life. But Idaho Social Services had made a call only hours later saying that they were conducting an investigation of the accident, suspecting that it might have been a planned suicide. This was the first time that distant cousins and Dad’s siblings learned about the abuses and subsequent periods of probation. It was also the first time they learned that I had only recently reported him a second time. A family feud quickly broke out and everyone was looking to me for answers. My husband took me and the kids back to the house I grew up in, seeking refuge from the madness. Instead I found immediate family and close family friends had gathered for a council. I was up before a jury. I heard expressions of hate and confusion from my siblings and Mom. Why would you ever call Social Services, Jentrey? What were you possibly thinking? How could you be so selfish? I couldn’t take it anymore. We headed back home to Colorado without stopping to say goodbye to anyone. All I remember is wondering if I would ever wake up from the nightmare. The drive back to Colorado was endless. Although I felt relief build with every mile that separated us from the chaos we had left, with every mile I also felt my heart breaking into a million pieces. Numbness overtook my body like a thick heavy black liquid more dense then tar. It consumed my entire being. I wasn’t sure if I existed anymore. What did I have to get out of bed for? Did I even thirst or hunger anymore? What did I have to live for? What did I have to die for? And worse, what had I done to deserve being the family target? All those years in church were just a lie. There was no one to talk to. No one to understand. People sent cards and their condolences for my Dad. How could they know the raging torment that had me chained to my past? No one could possibly begin to know or understand. I was completely and utterly alone. My kids wanted to go to the pool. I wanted to hide under my sheets and never come out. My husband wanted help with the kids every morning, and family dinners and together time at night. I wanted nothing more than to be alone. The more my family needed me, the deeper into the darkness I fell. I didn’t have to feel, I didn’t even have to exist. I needed a distraction from the darkness and the pain. To make me feel normal again, whatever that meant. I had been introduced to essential oils the previous year. They gave me a glimmer of hope and empowerment for my family’s health, but this time, a training opportunity.