I Can’t Forget You

“Control your breathing. Fight your tears Derrick, you're ok”. The voice in my head was comforting and so loud but the news was even louder. The news was like an ongoing siren blaring the ugly truth. I sat stiff on the couch as my mother held my hands. Her lips were moving quickly explaining and filling in blanks, but I was stuck. Stuck on the words “Your mother is dead”. “One, three, fourteen, twelve...” counting usually helps me cope but at that time I couldn’t fully grasp what was real and what I was imagining. I started to see my face vanish from all the family photos that surrounded me in the living room. Faintly I heard myself whisper “What?” desperately needing clarification. My mother explained to me that I needed to meet my father in Jamaica to prepare for the funeral. I have been to Jamica several times because that is where my father is from. However, I still had no understanding to what was happening. I heard my mother Crystal say I was not adopted. She also said that she was still my mother and my father Thomas was indeed my biological father. All that information just added to my confusion. If Crystal says I'm not adopted and she is my mother then how did I have another mother that was dead?

Four hours later I found myself in the TSA line at the airport. In my hands were my passport and a one-way ticket from JFK, New York to Kinston Jamaica. This was the first time in my life where I wished I was an average height instead of 6’7”. I wanted to be invisible. When it was my turn to go through security, the TSA officer asked me my birth year. I was so lost in thought that I said 2019 instead of 2001. Thankfully she just laughed and asked me to remove my hat. When I did my long brown locs fell across my face. As I reached up to move my hair out of my eyes, I realized tears had started to dampen my cheeks. My locs have been a part of my identity for so long and touching them quickly reminded me that now I knew nothing about my identity or who I was. The TSA officer said thank you, I nodded then continued through security and onto my flight.

On my flight I felt so many eyes on me. I couldn’t help but to wonder if my sadness and confusion was just reading all over my face. At one point the man sitting next to me touched my shoulder and said “I know the face of grief. Remember every ending is a new beginning. You will be alright son”. After his words I lost all composure. I got up rushed to the bathroom where I had to squeeze into that cramped space just to let my emotions out. I had to have been in there for a while because the next thing I heard was the announcement saying prepare for landing. I returned to my seat and buckled my seat belt.

When I landed in Jamaica my father was outside waiting for me. I got out there quickly because I had no bags to grab from baggage claim. I only traveled with my bookbag and a small duffle that I carried with me on the plane. The car ride to my father’s home town was quiet. I looked at him as he drove but turned away every time I thought he was about to look back at me. At the last red light before our destination my father handed me a little black book. From first glance it looked like an old but strong well taken care of journal. This book freaked me out. I thought this little black book had to have cradled heart-breaking secrets, so I didn’t open it. I wasn’t ready. Two minutes later we pulled into a gate which led to a home that I have been to before but could barely remember. I asked my dad, “why are we here?” but he didn’t respond, he just parked the car and went inside. So, I left my bags in the car, took the little black book and followed.

Inside my father sat at a table with a woman that I know I have seen before on some of my previous visits. I always thought that we looked alike, I figured she must be family. Her skin was caramel like mine, eyes sable and in the shape of a football. I always thought that I got all my features from my father’s side because my mother Crystal had beautiful dark skin and dark eyes. My father Thomas is dark as well but I figured features can skip generations since some of his family looked like me. After an awkward moment of silence, I asked “What is going on?”. My father looked at the women and then back at me and said “Derrick, this woman is your sister. She is not my child but she is your mother Brenda’s first child.” I almost fell to my knees, luckily a chair caught me. I knew her name now, Brenda. My mother’s name was Brenda. Before I could talk my sister spoke up, “Derrick I know you probably don’t understand what is going on but mama, Brenda wanted it this way.”.

At this point I was getting angry. It was like everyone was in on a joke that I was the butt of. I never yelled at my dad before but I found myself screaming “CAN SOMEONE JUST EXPLAIN!”. My dad bowed his head and began telling his tragic love story. He told me when he was younger, he fell in love with his neighbor Brenda in Jamaica. She was three years older than him and already had a rough life. Brenda was raised without parents from the age of 10 and had a baby from being raped at 14. When my father turned 18, he said he got the opportunity to go work in the U.S. as a farm hand. He took the job promising Brenda that he would make a life for himself and come back for her and her baby. His first three years on the job he sent all his money back to take care of Brenda and for the first time in her life Brenda felt loved and secure. After those 3 years my dad said he finally got to go back to Jamica for a visit. During that visit I was conceived. After finding out about the pregnancy my father said he came up with a plan. The plan was, run away from the farm in order to chase his American dream. His family was growing and the wages that he was getting paid on the farm was robbery. My father said he never told Brenda the full plan, which was to marry a lady in the U.S. not for love just for citizenship. He thought if he became a citizen, got a good job and a place of his own then he could divorce his wife in order to bring Brenda up from Jamica.

Unfortunately, his plan never mapped out. My father said when he ran away from the farm and met his wife Crystal, word got back to Brenda before he could explain. All Brenda knew was that he was getting married and she was heartbroken. My father told me that he came back to Jamaica to talk to Brenda but she wouldn’t hear it. Brenda made him promise that once I was born, he would take me and raise me in a full family with his wife. He told me that Brenda made the ultimate sacrifice for me which was her life because Brenda died young from an early onset of dementia caused by depression. As I sat and listened to the story tears ran down my face and I asked “Have I ever met her?”. My father said I have but she never spoke much to me. She just loved to look at me as if she were memorizing each detail and counting each breath. I realized that that is where I knew the house from, it was Brenda’s. I had visited many times as a child. I looked up at my sister and I searched her face trying to find Brenda’s. While my father continued on to let me know he did not want to hurt me or lie to me, he was just keeping his promise. He said Crystal always knew his heart belonged to Brenda. That’s why when she got sick Crystal never got in the way of him leaving to care for her. Thomas said up until her last breath he laid by her side. He explained with Brenda’s dementia she started to get violent and pushed care takers away but with him she was always at peace.

Through my tears I also asked “Did she remember me after she got dementia?”. My father told me to open the little black book. When I did the first thing I saw was a picture of me at my high school graduation. Under the picture were the words “I can’t forget you”. As I flipped though the book, I saw that Brenda had my whole life documented with pictures, notes and love letters. My father told me she wrote in the book as long as she could and when she couldn’t write any more, she would just stare at the pictures. My father said Brenda just wanted me to have opportunity. She just wanted me to have a fair chance at life, even if she had to be the sacrifice. My father said I was the definition of a love child.

I flipped to a page close to the back where I read a note that said “I’m sorry. All I ever wanted was the best for you. I asked God when I die if I could be your guardian angel because every ending is a new beginning” I slammed the book closed and just stared at my sister and father. I was filled with so many mixed emotions from learning this new truth. I asked my father if I could lay down. He said yes and that we would be staying at Brenda’s house until after the funeral. So, I went outside and grabbed my bags from the car. When I got back in my sister showed me to a room. For a while I just sat there in silence. Eventually when I reached in to my bag to pull out my cell phone, a folded piece of paper came out with it. I opened it up and there was a check written out to cash for $20,000 and a note that said “Remember every ending is a new beginning. You will be alright son. I hope this helps with anything you need.” The man on the plane must have put it in my bag when I went into the bathroom. Wow, all I could think was wow. My life had completely changed in less than 24 hours. I just looked up and smiled. I guess God said yes to Brenda being my guardian angel.