DAKOTA CALUMET...The son
BETHANNY CALUMET...The daughter
Dakota
Sometimes it is hard being the eldest child. Perhaps 'hard' is a little extreme; challenging is probably more accurate.
I have been avoiding my baby sister's phone calls. I know what she wants to talk about, and for the first time in my life, I don't have any answers for what I am sure will be her questions.
Something bizarre is going on with our parents. Yes, they are our parents, and they are somewhat of a separate entity, but, honestly,,our family has always been so close, it is almost impossible to feel,,,left out of any part of our lives. Until now...
Let me clarify, my sister and I have always been taught to be independent and confident enough to be who we are. We have also been taught the importance of being 'present' for each other.
Honestly, the possibility that there is something serious affecting the lives of our parents is frightening.
If I can manage to be half the man that my father is, I will be thankful beyond words. His unconditional love for all of us is as constant and real as the moon and the sun. Dramatic? Perhaps. But, no less true.
The devotion of my mother is no less.
As different as their personalities are, their willingness and ability to love is phenomenal.
At 6' 9'', I was fortunate enough to play in the NBA for three years. It was a great opportunity; one that I am grateful for, but I was not as driven as most young men would be. I had a serious knee injury that ended my career, but fortunately, not my dreams. I obtained my MBA while in the League. By the time I left, I owned two small business that I later sold to invest in my lifetime dream.
I have always wanted to be totally independent. I did not want to depend on anyone else for my livelihood. It has been said that I am like my grandfather in that regard.
My father taught my sister and I the importance of a healthy work ethic by making it mandatory that we work during any off times from school, and save 50% of every dime. We worked during the summer on our family ranch. He and his friends provided other types of jobs for all of their children.
The hard work just reinforced my desire to be my own boss.
I bought my first car when I was in the 10th grade. My Dad wanted me to buy an older car that needed to be fixed up. Mechanics is not my forte, or interest, so I bought an older car that was in great condition. When I received a full athletic scholarship for college, my parents put the entire cost of a 4 year education into my savings account they started when I was born.
When I earned my first degree, my father bought me the car of my choice; even though he knew I was going to be able to afford it myself. He said it was something he wanted to do; I accepted the gift with the love that it was given.
It was during these times I realized that my parents were, well,, very wealthy.
I chose not to touch the money until I started my main business. I lived quite well during my time in the League, but I still managed to save half of my salary.
I always knew that I wanted to meet a woman that I could love as much as my father loved my mother, and a woman who would love me as much as my mother loved him.
They compliment each other perfectly.
When I told my father that I had met the woman I wanted to marry, he asked me one question,,, "Would you, without hesitation, give your life for her?" Without hesitation, I answered yes.
He smiled and told me that if she was that special, I needed to take her off the market before someone else realized just how special she was. He said that grown men don't waste time playing games with the woman they want to be a part of their life.
I thought long and hard about the real meaning of his question; I proposed the next day.
My wife and I have seven year old twins. Langston, my son, and Leah, my daughter give real purpose to my life.
They are quite a pair, and a real challenge for a man who thought that having children was an experience I could do without. I was so very wrong; I cannot imagine life without them.
My mother was a little harder to convince, but Kelly is awesome, and my mother quickly understood how perfect we are for each other. I must admit that Kelly and Bethanny were so close at one time, that I was a little jealous. I have always been my baby sister's hero; I don't ever want that to change. One day over lunch, she quietly told me that I would always be her big brother,,always. I was once again reminded of how well we know each other.
She is one of the very few people who have never been intimidated by my size, deep voice, or personality.
When Bethanny got pregnant during her sophomore year of college, I felt as if I had failed her. I had sat her down and told her just what to expect from men. I thought I had prepared her for the... 'games'.
I seriously wanted to wrap my fingers around the neck of the person who dared to impregnate my baby sister. To this day, I have a hard time being civil to this person. It is only for the sake of my beautiful niece that I did not show him what it really means to hurt my sister. I will never forget her tears when he rejected her. Oh, he tried to make amends later, and he is a decent father, but he will always be less than a man. Always.
My niece Gia is a blessing for all of us, so it is certainly true that God is always in control. Gia's birth helped me to rethink my view on being a parent.
My sister is a beautiful, strong confident woman who also happens to be an awesome mother.
I have talked to my Dad every other day since he has been gone, and his voice has been even more quiet than usual. At first I thought it was work related, but I am a man, and his quietness is coming from his heart.
My Mom has been almost avoiding any conversation with me. Her voice is,,somewhat tense. But, she has been on a sharper edge than usual for a few months. I miss our talks; I miss my mother.
We both know that our parents do not take separate vacations. My Dad has never stayed on an assignment this long without at least flying home for a night whenever possible.
Now, after being apart for a month, my mother is having a gathering to welcome him home.
For these two people who have a suite for a bedroom. A suite that is soundproof. A suite that my sister and I would rummage through when the opportunity arose. Yep, we would find all kinds of interesting,,,items.
Two people who rarely pass each other without a gentle touch.
We would expect our parents to be locked away for at least a week before any homecoming celebration.
My phone is ringing. It's Bethanny..
Chapter 8.....Bethanny speaks
Friday, March 15, 2013
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
The Fragments of Love.....Chapter 6 ~~"Is That My Face in The Mirror?"~~ A Story by Sammye Kaye
VANESSA CALUMET
~~arrives home~~
Time seemed to stop. I cried until all of my tears were gone. Did I feel better? No, I actually felt worse.
I left my luggage in my car and slowly walked to the door leading into my custom designed kitchen. Oddly, I remembered to leave my shoes in the adjacent mud room.
I also remembered my mother's response when I told her this area was a 'mud room'. She had shaken her head and wondered aloud why anyone would take the time to officially name any space, a mud room. I carefully explained to her that it was a place to leave anything that you did not want to bring dirt and clutter into the house.
She simply gave me her trademark patient and slightly amused look, before just as carefully stating that it just seemed to be a way to bring the back porch into the house; same concept,,keep the dirty stuff separate from the clean.
With her words in mind, I did not feel that I deserved to enter my home.
My beautiful home that was built with with love and care. This home is a perfect combination of each member of my family. Each person's view and personality can be seen throughout the entire space. Both of our grown children and our grandchildren have permanent rooms in the house. Downsizing has never crossed any of our minds.
This will always be,,,home.
Our home,, that I have defiled.
This cold reality brought me to my knees. As I stretched my prone body on the kitchen floor, I once again thought about dying.
By the time I pulled myself up from the floor, my body was stiff and sore. I left the kitchen and went into the family room. I stopped and looked around the room that was filled with the presence of my beloved family. Every picture, every memento simply added to my pain. My heart was literally filled with burning pain.
I forced myself to run up the stairs; but of course, I could not run away from myself.
Before I opened the door of our suite,, ,, I tried in vain to pray.
I took a deep breath and walked into the room that has always been my safe haven.
A room where our love was free to be expressed in any manner we chose.
A room where our dreams and fears were shared with the trust that comes from genuine unconditional love.
As I struggled to breath, I wondered if this room would soon become my personal hell.
I fell across the bed and cried myself to a fretful sleep.
The loud ring of the land line jarred me awake. It was my mother. I answered with an exaggerated sleep filled voice, and my mother quickly told me to go back to sleep; she was just checking on me.
I decided to call Marcus with that same 'voice', so he would not be worried about me.
It did not escape me that now,,I was concerned about his feelings..
Lord, am I going crazy?? Is that what my mother was trying to tell me??
The next day, Marcus called to tell me that he would be in New York for at least a week longer than expected, and they were unable to come home. I missed my husband deeply, but I saw the longer stay as a blessing directly from God. Whether it was a blessing for Marcus, or me, did not matter right now. The extra time would allow the bite marks to heal. Hopefully.
The next morning, I was surprised to wake up with a uncomfortable burning sensation in and around my vagina. I used a mirror to have a closer look, but other than the now angry looking bruises, I saw nothing else that was odd.
By mid-day, I had a nasty discharge.
I was stunned.
I am 58 years old,,this is just NOT happening to me.
I made a frantic call to my doctor, who is also a close friend. I was literally numb as I took an almost scalding hot bath.
Once again I tried to pray; once again,, it was in vain. Instead, I cried until I reached the parking lot.
Before the examination, I told my friend everything. She tried to comfort me, but to no avail.
I could never have imagined the type of shame I felt as I placed my legs in the stirrups.
After the exam and I was back in the doctor's office, I did my best to make my mind a total blank. There was an on sight lab, and since my friend wanted to get the results quickly, she walked the samples downstairs.
After what seemed like days, my doctor returned.
With a very sad and regretful look, she informed me that as she suspected,,, I have chlamydia.
She also informed me that she was giving me a tetanus shot as a precaution regarding the bite marks.
I was speechless.
She also told me to thank God, because this man was obviously a sick bastard.
He knew I was married, and he chose to 'brand' me in his own special way.
Brand me??
Merciful heaven..
.
She explained that for some men, this is a show of demented power. They choose cruises because the time and space is a pretty much controlled environment. A woman alone is a perfect target; whether she is a willing participant or not.
The fact that she is alone is often a green flag,,,a signal that she just might be vulnerable enough for their,,game.
She finished by saying that my bruises will heal and the STD can be treated.
He just as easily could have drugged, and robbed me and thrown me overboard.
My dear friend cried with me before I left her office.
She insists that I come back to her office next week for a follow-up and to have a long overdue talk about my hormones.
Yes, yes, I know.
I stopped and had the prescription filled; and yes,,,I was embarrassed. I could just imagine the entire staff looking with horror and amusement at the 'elderly' woman with,,,I did not even want to think about the word..
I went home and thought about every choice I had made during the last year of my life.
I no longer had the luxury of tears,or dramatic thoughts of dying; that would be much too easy.
It was time for me to face the person in my mirror.
Finally, after all this time, I was able to get on my knees and,,,,pray.
Chapter 7~ The kids speak
~~arrives home~~
Time seemed to stop. I cried until all of my tears were gone. Did I feel better? No, I actually felt worse.
I left my luggage in my car and slowly walked to the door leading into my custom designed kitchen. Oddly, I remembered to leave my shoes in the adjacent mud room.
I also remembered my mother's response when I told her this area was a 'mud room'. She had shaken her head and wondered aloud why anyone would take the time to officially name any space, a mud room. I carefully explained to her that it was a place to leave anything that you did not want to bring dirt and clutter into the house.
She simply gave me her trademark patient and slightly amused look, before just as carefully stating that it just seemed to be a way to bring the back porch into the house; same concept,,keep the dirty stuff separate from the clean.
With her words in mind, I did not feel that I deserved to enter my home.
My beautiful home that was built with with love and care. This home is a perfect combination of each member of my family. Each person's view and personality can be seen throughout the entire space. Both of our grown children and our grandchildren have permanent rooms in the house. Downsizing has never crossed any of our minds.
This will always be,,,home.
Our home,, that I have defiled.
This cold reality brought me to my knees. As I stretched my prone body on the kitchen floor, I once again thought about dying.
By the time I pulled myself up from the floor, my body was stiff and sore. I left the kitchen and went into the family room. I stopped and looked around the room that was filled with the presence of my beloved family. Every picture, every memento simply added to my pain. My heart was literally filled with burning pain.
I forced myself to run up the stairs; but of course, I could not run away from myself.
Before I opened the door of our suite,, ,, I tried in vain to pray.
I took a deep breath and walked into the room that has always been my safe haven.
A room where our love was free to be expressed in any manner we chose.
A room where our dreams and fears were shared with the trust that comes from genuine unconditional love.
As I struggled to breath, I wondered if this room would soon become my personal hell.
I fell across the bed and cried myself to a fretful sleep.
The loud ring of the land line jarred me awake. It was my mother. I answered with an exaggerated sleep filled voice, and my mother quickly told me to go back to sleep; she was just checking on me.
I decided to call Marcus with that same 'voice', so he would not be worried about me.
It did not escape me that now,,I was concerned about his feelings..
Lord, am I going crazy?? Is that what my mother was trying to tell me??
The next day, Marcus called to tell me that he would be in New York for at least a week longer than expected, and they were unable to come home. I missed my husband deeply, but I saw the longer stay as a blessing directly from God. Whether it was a blessing for Marcus, or me, did not matter right now. The extra time would allow the bite marks to heal. Hopefully.
The next morning, I was surprised to wake up with a uncomfortable burning sensation in and around my vagina. I used a mirror to have a closer look, but other than the now angry looking bruises, I saw nothing else that was odd.
By mid-day, I had a nasty discharge.
I was stunned.
I am 58 years old,,this is just NOT happening to me.
I made a frantic call to my doctor, who is also a close friend. I was literally numb as I took an almost scalding hot bath.
Once again I tried to pray; once again,, it was in vain. Instead, I cried until I reached the parking lot.
Before the examination, I told my friend everything. She tried to comfort me, but to no avail.
I could never have imagined the type of shame I felt as I placed my legs in the stirrups.
After the exam and I was back in the doctor's office, I did my best to make my mind a total blank. There was an on sight lab, and since my friend wanted to get the results quickly, she walked the samples downstairs.
After what seemed like days, my doctor returned.
With a very sad and regretful look, she informed me that as she suspected,,, I have chlamydia.
She also informed me that she was giving me a tetanus shot as a precaution regarding the bite marks.
I was speechless.
She also told me to thank God, because this man was obviously a sick bastard.
He knew I was married, and he chose to 'brand' me in his own special way.
Brand me??
Merciful heaven..
.
She explained that for some men, this is a show of demented power. They choose cruises because the time and space is a pretty much controlled environment. A woman alone is a perfect target; whether she is a willing participant or not.
The fact that she is alone is often a green flag,,,a signal that she just might be vulnerable enough for their,,game.
She finished by saying that my bruises will heal and the STD can be treated.
He just as easily could have drugged, and robbed me and thrown me overboard.
My dear friend cried with me before I left her office.
She insists that I come back to her office next week for a follow-up and to have a long overdue talk about my hormones.
Yes, yes, I know.
I stopped and had the prescription filled; and yes,,,I was embarrassed. I could just imagine the entire staff looking with horror and amusement at the 'elderly' woman with,,,I did not even want to think about the word..
I went home and thought about every choice I had made during the last year of my life.
I no longer had the luxury of tears,or dramatic thoughts of dying; that would be much too easy.
It was time for me to face the person in my mirror.
Finally, after all this time, I was able to get on my knees and,,,,pray.
Chapter 7~ The kids speak
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)