They Say It Takes a Village

All my life I have heard the quote, “It takes a village to raise a child.” Going back, and looking in my past, I grew up without support. I had a biological father, but he did not care for me the way a father should have. I had a stepmother, but she was no mother, not even step. The only time I had any support was the 10 years my brother was alive, before his murder at the age of 13. He was the one truly caring for me, but then, in his last months, I was caring for him as best I could. I was just a ten-year-old and not a doctor, soup was the only thing I knew how to help.

I tried getting a doctor for him, but was blocked at all costs, the “stepmother” and “biological father” locked the phone away so I could not call 911 for him. That’s what he really needed. We were even stopped from seeing our own grandmother. She was rarely allowed to come by, but when he was sick, she was forbidden to come for a visit. When a village was needed, it was not there for me.

My brother was my hero when I was a child, all the way until he took his very last breath. I remember it like yesterday. Holding him in my arms as I tried to get him to stay conscious. My ex-stepmother took us to church, but they all turned a blind eye. Had they not, my brother would still be alive. A simple surgery was all he needed. That what the autopsy showed.

For many years, I held hate in my heart over this. I held a grudge. And I refused to believe that people could be trusted, especially when it came to my own children. I was reluctant to work or let them go off with anyone because I did not trust anyone to help me. I refused to let “a village” help raise my babies. However, surprises come in the most unlikely places, and I have two heroes that I found in my adult life that changed my heart. The first one, to my adopted mom I write this letter,

Dear Mommy,

I know I have faltered over the years since we met. I know you have picked me up, dusted me off and told me off. Then you told me everything would be alright again. You encouraged me, been my rock, gave me love, a sister to connect with, and a grandmother for my children. You never let me become spoiled, but you spoiled them, and when I needed somewhere safe, you made that happen.

You knew when I was being taken advantage of you weren’t afraid to tell me, even when I was too thick headed to listen. When I was making stupid decisions, whether the company I kept, or choices I made, you did not hold your tongue, and made sure I knew exactly how you felt about it. When I needed a safe place for my children to run to, I can always count on you.

When I was working on my sobriety, you were there to help me, lift me up, and keep me accountable. When I came to the realization of what was holding me back, and the struggles that kept me from achieving success, even though you had told me a thousand times, I know I was too thick headed to listen to you; you were still there and did not hold it against me. You were happy that I finally listened to someone and gave that someone a huge hug with tears in your eyes, because you felt like you were failing.

I want you to know, you never failed me. I was just too stubborn to listen, and I am sorry for my stubbornness, and not listening to you sooner. I know I have said it before, but I say it again, and I will keep saying it.

I appreciate everything you have done for me over the years, and everything in the future. Thank you for being there for me, and the kids, and never giving up on me, even when I gave up on myself. Thank you for bringing me up, and showing me, that a village can come at any time in a person’s life, when they least expect it. I love you so much, Mom.

Your Daughter

Heather

The next letter, I writer to my adopted dad, who passed away just before this last Christmas. I am still morning him, it still hurts, and he is still my hero. He came into my life a few years after my mom, when I was struggling with my recovery and staying clean. He helped connect me in the right way, and I met him because his grandkids went to school with my kids.

Dear Papa,

I miss you very much, and there is so much I wanted to say but never got a chance to say. I wish cancer hadn’t gotten to you. I feel you left before your time. We all miss you; you were the best dad anyone could ask for. The best grandpa anyone could have. You were the only grandpa my kids had. They miss going to church with you, and the Sunday afternoon rituals.

We all miss the summertime with you, hanging out by the pools, parks, and creeks. The kids and I will treasure all the moments you gave. The thing I will treasure most, is the love and guidance you gave when you took me under your watchful wing. I was struggling to stay Clean and had hate and grudges in my heart, especially against all churches.

You taught me about Celebrate Recovery, and how to be humble. Taught me lessons on sobriety that I never knew. You helped me realize the mistakes that I was making. Helped me see what my mom was trying to tell me for many years, but I was too stubborn to listen to her about. Made me realize that my recovery would only be successful if I really wanted it, but that came with many sacrifices.

You helped me prepare myself for those sacrifices. I had to really want it, and be ready, and you taught that to me. Showed me the light, the path, and gave me the steppingstones that would guide me, but you never enabled or forced it. You helped me want to succeed, and the greatest tool was, your words, “You have to want it for yourself, no one else.”

The greatest sacrifice was cutting certain people out of my life. Some were easy, but the hardest one was my aunt Karin. She was not happy about my decision, she brought me down, told me I would fail, said I was set up to fail, and was just like my birth parents. It hurt, cut like a knife in the back. I remember coming to you, crying, and you brought me up. You said, “people do that to try and keep you down the same path because they want you in the dark, because by you leaving the dark and going into the light, they were left with nothing.”

Dad, you really brought me up with those words. And I even got the courage to go to church at times with you, even after years of not trusting any church, because of the one that turned a blind eye on my brother. Again, you helped show me how to soften my own heart.

While I am still using your lessons to this day, I am still growing. A few years before meeting you, I learned that a village could come when you least expect it; through you, I learned that that same village can also grow when you least expect it. I am honored to have known you and have had you in my life. Thank you for the lessons you gave me and my children, and all the love, time, and devotion you showed.

You will forever be missed, but your lessons will live on through all of us.

Love,

Your Daughter,

Heather

Something I learned early in life is also something I learned late in life; it does take a village to raise a child. Some of us, we are not born with a village, or we are deprived of that village. Others, we grow up, depending on our own siblings or ourselves, and when we become parents, or adults in bad situations, a village finds us. It may not always be clear why, but the least expectant will have it when they least expect it. Through my adult life, my village grew. I have a mom, my dad, even though he passed away, he is still with us.

My kids’ father, he is a wonderful provider, the sister my mom blessed me with, she was graduating high school when I met my mom. It’s fine that we did not grow up together, because regardless, we are best friends and sisters to the ends and beyond, and the kids have an aunt. Just recently, I reconnected with a long-lost sister, and a long-lost father, (non-biological) but someone that used to be there to raise me before my life turned upside down. I thought I would never find them again, and I did, well, my long-lost sister found me. My husbands’ best friends are funny and quirky, and they have great advice as well. I may not have had a village when I was younger, but I found one in my adulthood, and that’s when I was raised. I grew, and that same village, is growing, and helping me to this day, with me and my own.