Desperation

Writing this it may be the hardest post I've ever written, it may be the hardest part of my past to uncover with you, and it may scare you the way, well the way it still terrifies me.

I was three, it was recently after my parents had divorced. It started so young, I was at his house for the weekend.

The rage between him and my mother was so thick you could taste it in the air. I knew when he picked me up that Friday, I knew that it would be a long weekend. I knew that something was going to happen, though I could have never thought it to be something that still haunts me.

They say that since it happened so young that my memory shouldn't be so vivid about it, if they only knew.

We had just finished painting my new bedroom, my dad laid on the bed, exhausted from his day, I lay next to him feeling safe in his arms. He looked at me and smiled, I felt the knot in my stomach knowing that something was wrong. Call it a childs intuiton if you will.

I felt his hand on my thigh, I tried to ignore it. I felt it creeping up and I felt it go inside my pants. I hear him saying "it'll be ok Cass, but you can't tell anyone, this is our little secret". I remember the sterness in his voice, how serious he was.

I won't tell you the details, because I don't think that anyone really wants to hear them. I went home and I told my mother, and I still remember her tears, the way she cried. I remember the exam from the doctor, and I remember my grandfather's eyes, the deepest look of sadness in them.

Few have I shared this with, though recently I did share it with Dan, who was more than supportive.

Some Happy Stories

So I debated about what I was going to share, looking back through the last year at my old blog which had to be moved which you can find located here ( http://www.ufoundme416.livejournal.com/)
I decided that I'm going to share with you some dad stories...

My real dad, is a bit of a jerk. We don't spend much time together, which really to me isn't such a big deal, at least not anymore. I left home the week after I turned 18, I moved in with my friend Monica, her dad and her brothers Sam and Brian.

I had been close with Monica's family for a long time and I really enjoyed being with them, they were like no family I had ever met. They were really open with each other, they were allowed to drink (of course there was a no driving rule) we could have sex in the house (as long as you put the monkey on your door knob) and they talked, really shared things.

I became really close with Monica's dad and her brothers (while actually drifting a little away from Monica). They really became family to me.

Autumn (another close friend of mine) and I skipped school one day, we stayed at the house and slept in. We woke up made a starbucks run and returned home. We found cookie dough in the fridge (which turns out was six months past its expiriation date) and soon became quite sick.

Autumn went home, and I lay on the couch with my bucket wishing I was dead. Sammy made me soup (which for Sam is a big deal, he was only 16 at the time and cooking def wasn't his strong point) dad left work early, he picked me up off the couch and took me upstairs, he let me lay in his bed with him and we had a Gilmore Girls marathon, Dad made me Kool-Aid (no one makes Kool-Aid like dad) and I puked all over him.

My real dad, would have been furious, he would have yelled, screamed, and possibly even have told me to leave. but monica's dad didn't. He got up, picked me up, moved me to my bed, changed the sheets and blankets and hopped in the shower. After his shower he came and got me and moved me back to his bed, restarting Gilmore Girls. I slept there that night, with dad and Echo (the dog)

The next day he skipped work and took me to the doctors, then we came home and laid in bed and watched movies. I slept in his bed again.

Now to you this may sound strange, I slept in some old man's bed, that wasn't my own father. But see that's one of the reason that this is one of my favorite memories, because I think this was the true beginning to our family.

Dad, Sam and Brian may be 3,000 miles away now, but they still call everyday. I know I have an open invitation anytime to come "home". I know that when I need them they are there, I know that Monica (my sister) is only 5 miles away. I know that they would do anything for me (more stories later) they've more than proven that.

I may not have my "real" family, but instead I have something better.