{my memoirs} kicking the old man...

Today's installment is shorter than the rest mainly because this part is so pivotal that I couldn't bare for it to get lost in the other madness. I replay this night over and over again all the time. One day I will let go of it, maybe sharing this part of the story will help...in case you missed it, you can read previous parts here {part 1} and here {part 2}.

Now on to today's installment...

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Remember that sweet old couple who lived below us? Well, their granddaughter was probably 3 or 4 and while my mom was out, a lot of times they would watch me. Most of the time I don’t remember having people at the house to make sure I ate or took a bath or slept, but this sweet old couple would make sure I was ok.

This fateful night it was sunset and I was sitting on the stairs with their granddaughter coloring. When my mother got home, drunk, with her friend, the grandparents were outside sitting in chairs on their patio talking to us. My mom starts yelling and barreling insults at the grandparents telling them that they are trash for not having me in bed yet. Mind you, I don’t remember ever having a bed time. My mom was just blitzed out of her mind and decided to take it out on this poor couple. She did not stop yelling at them as she yanked me up and made me go upstairs. She was still cursing as she went inside our apartment. Her friend tried to calm her down, but my mom was having none of this.

Some time later she was still mad and decided to go downstairs and yell at them some more. I was still not in bed (I still have no clue why she was so mad when she got home) and took off. Her friend tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen. We both followed her outside, I was crouching on the stairs to look between the slats as she was banging on their door. The grandpa opened the door (I wish he hadn’t) and my mom kicked the man, hard. He feel backwards into their console tv and was out cold. I was crying, my mom’s friend ran to call an ambulance, the grandma and her grandchild happened to just be walking up the sidewalk and both started yelling. I will never forget the look on that girl’s face...it haunts me still.

The rest of the evening is a big blur for me. I know that my mom’s friend whisked me away to another friend’s apartment. My mom was there dealing with the cops. I wasn’t allowed to see my mom when she showed up at the other apartment. CPS was called and I went to a foster home for some time...I’m not sure how long I was there, but it was at least a few days.

Next thing I remember was being in front of a judge in his chambers with both sets of grandparents and my dad (who until this point I had not had much contact with). My mom wasn’t there at what wound up being a custody hearing for me. Not until years ago did I find out that she wasn’t told when it was, though part of me finds it hard to believe. I cannot imagine a court not notifying her, but honestly I wouldn’t be surprised. That day I remember the judge making sure I knew that I wouldn’t be living with my mother any longer...that one of my grandparents would be taking custody of me.

I am not sure why my father didn’t try and get custody of me...honestly I’ve always been afraid to ask him for fear it will be yet another thing I would have to be disappointed about him about. But my mom’s parents wound up with physical custody of me, later I will realize it was less about me and more about the social security benefits I was getting. So, I was uprooted and moved back to the tiny town where both sets of grandparents lived. 

{to be continued...monday...}