Jun 2015
I Love you Pumpkin!
As they lowered my mother’s casket into the ground
I held on to my father’s hands tightly
I looked at my father—failing to read him
His grey eyes looked at nothing in particular
And lips uttered words only he understood
He let go of my hands abruptly and started walking ahead
Leaving me behind with my aunt and her husband
I stayed with them till it was time to go home
Home- the word sounded strange to my ears
What good was a home if you did not have a mother to go home to?
One who you could talk to about all your worries
Rest your head on her lap and feel all your tensions drift away every time she stroked your hair
But I had to go anyway—It has been raining and I was soaked to the bone
When I got home
The air smelled musty and everyone was still in their “mourning clothes”
If I had my way I would throw away my Wednesday Adams inspired frock and Mary Janes into the fire once and for all
My father, aunt, uncle and grandmother sat around the kitchen table and tried their best not to weep into the food that was sent by the neighbors
I had no appetite to even begin with so I left the table without saying a word
I went to my room changed my clothes and flopped on my bed
I was too tired for anything else and wanted to be left alone for the rest of my days
But this was just wishful thinking
My problems started during the next couple of days
My aunt and uncle had graciously stayed with us for 2-3 days, before leaving on a Friday morning
But not before my aunt took the liberty of rummaging through my mother jewelry box stealing a keepsake or two
“Oh something to remember my older sister by” she laughing said
But I knew better
This had upset me a great deal but it was the least of my worries
My father had started behaving strangely
Coming home late into the night and bringing with him empty bottles and strange odors instead of dinner and clothes
Forgetting to restock the fridge and pay the bills on time
I was busy with school but I pitched in to help whenever I could
But nothing ever pleased my father!
“Lola why are the eggs burned” that earned me a pinch on the arm
“Take out the garbage” he would yell out and smack me across the head
“The soup tastes like dishwater”
The complaints increased with time and the beatings as well
There were 7 days in a week and he may be spared me for two
Everything and anything ticked the man off
I on the other hand was changing colors like chameleon from blue to purple and looked more like a ragdoll then a 14 year old girl
I hardly fit into my school uniform anymore
I could not remember how long this went on for but soon enough it was routine
He would beat in the day
And come to my room to sooth my wounds during the night
He never apologized- all he had to say was this “I love you pumpkin”
As if that was enough to heal the cigarette he placed on my arms and legs
My bruised face
Purple eyes
Broken bones
Things took a turn for the worse on my 17 birthday
My father would only come home now at night just to slowly creep into my room and check on me
Not on my wounds but my body instead
My eyes remained closed the entire time but that never helped
He was big man and had me easily pinned to my bed
He slapped me about when I tried to get away and thrashed around like a fish out of water
He only had this much to say
“I love you pumpkin”
Going to the police did not help
I could not inform my aunt and
My grandmother was buried six feet under the ground
July 1st The day of his birthday
I decided to end this once and for all
I made Chinese and baked a cake
My father always got home around one in the morning
So I thought I would surprise him by dressing up like his lovely dead wife
I walked into my mother’s room for the first time after she passed away and opened up her walk in closet.
I didn’t waste any time in looking at the dresses and endless arrays of shoes and handbags
I picked out a black dress—one of my fathers favorites
Adorned myself in her precious jewels and spirited on her favorite perfume “Haiku”
So it was the first thing my father would inhale when he walked into the house
Just like I predicted the vile man finally came home
I made myself comfortable in the family room but sitting on my mother’s favorite chair with a glass of wine
The front door suddenly creaked open and I could hear the sounds of heavy footsteps making their way to the living room
The lights came on and I got into character
My father was very startled to see me
“Luna” he croaked
“Yes John It is I”
The man was definitely drunk
I put the glass down and stood up to embrace him
He ran to me like a child
“My darling how I missed you” I mimicked
I gingerly embraced him before coaxing him to sit in my mother chair and offered him the wine
He protested but I did not take no for an answer and begin to massage his neck
Just like the mother used to do it without getting sick
And hummed a tune of my own
After an eternity later I could see he was a little calmer then before
I continued what I was doing but this time using only one hand
And reached for the frying pan I had kept behind the sofa before hand
Before he could take my mother’s name again
I brought the pan down and struck on the head
I smiled when the blood finally started to trickle down
With a satisfied smirk I only had this much to say “I love you pumpkin”
As they lowered my mother’s casket into the ground
I held on to my father’s hands tightly
I looked at my father—failing to read him
His grey eyes looked at nothing in particular
And lips uttered words only he understood
He let go of my hands abruptly and started walking ahead
Leaving me behind with my aunt and her husband
I stayed with them till it was time to go home
Home- the word sounded strange to my ears
What good was a home if you did not have a mother to go home to?
One who you could talk to about all your worries
Rest your head on her lap and feel all your tensions drift away every time she stroked your hair
But I had to go anyway—It has been raining and I was soaked to the bone
When I got home
The air smelled musty and everyone was still in their “mourning clothes”
If I had my way I would throw away my Wednesday Adams inspired frock and Mary Janes into the fire once and for all
My father, aunt, uncle and grandmother sat around the kitchen table and tried their best not to weep into the food that was sent by the neighbors
I had no appetite to even begin with so I left the table without saying a word
I went to my room changed my clothes and flopped on my bed
I was too tired for anything else and wanted to be left alone for the rest of my days
But this was just wishful thinking
My problems started during the next couple of days
My aunt and uncle had graciously stayed with us for 2-3 days, before leaving on a Friday morning
But not before my aunt took the liberty of rummaging through my mother jewelry box stealing a keepsake or two
“Oh something to remember my older sister by” she laughing said
But I knew better
This had upset me a great deal but it was the least of my worries
My father had started behaving strangely
Coming home late into the night and bringing with him empty bottles and strange odors instead of dinner and clothes
Forgetting to restock the fridge and pay the bills on time
I was busy with school but I pitched in to help whenever I could
But nothing ever pleased my father!
“Lola why are the eggs burned” that earned me a pinch on the arm
“Take out the garbage” he would yell out and smack me across the head
“The soup tastes like dishwater”
The complaints increased with time and the beatings as well
There were 7 days in a week and he may be spared me for two
Everything and anything ticked the man off
I on the other hand was changing colors like chameleon from blue to purple and looked more like a ragdoll then a 14 year old girl
I hardly fit into my school uniform anymore
I could not remember how long this went on for but soon enough it was routine
He would beat in the day
And come to my room to sooth my wounds during the night
He never apologized- all he had to say was this “I love you pumpkin”
As if that was enough to heal the cigarette he placed on my arms and legs
My bruised face
Purple eyes
Broken bones
Things took a turn for the worse on my 17 birthday
My father would only come home now at night just to slowly creep into my room and check on me
Not on my wounds but my body instead
My eyes remained closed the entire time but that never helped
He was big man and had me easily pinned to my bed
He slapped me about when I tried to get away and thrashed around like a fish out of water
He only had this much to say
“I love you pumpkin”
Going to the police did not help
I could not inform my aunt and
My grandmother was buried six feet under the ground
July 1st The day of his birthday
I decided to end this once and for all
I made Chinese and baked a cake
My father always got home around one in the morning
So I thought I would surprise him by dressing up like his lovely dead wife
I walked into my mother’s room for the first time after she passed away and opened up her walk in closet.
I didn’t waste any time in looking at the dresses and endless arrays of shoes and handbags
I picked out a black dress—one of my fathers favorites
Adorned myself in her precious jewels and spirited on her favorite perfume “Haiku”
So it was the first thing my father would inhale when he walked into the house
Just like I predicted the vile man finally came home
I made myself comfortable in the family room but sitting on my mother’s favorite chair with a glass of wine
The front door suddenly creaked open and I could hear the sounds of heavy footsteps making their way to the living room
The lights came on and I got into character
My father was very startled to see me
“Luna” he croaked
“Yes John It is I”
The man was definitely drunk
I put the glass down and stood up to embrace him
He ran to me like a child
“My darling how I missed you” I mimicked
I gingerly embraced him before coaxing him to sit in my mother chair and offered him the wine
He protested but I did not take no for an answer and begin to massage his neck
Just like the mother used to do it without getting sick
And hummed a tune of my own
After an eternity later I could see he was a little calmer then before
I continued what I was doing but this time using only one hand
And reached for the frying pan I had kept behind the sofa before hand
Before he could take my mother’s name again
I brought the pan down and struck on the head
I smiled when the blood finally started to trickle down
With a satisfied smirk I only had this much to say “I love you pumpkin”
