Shattered Glass and Cycles
This is a story about my family
I may not have the order right
But even if I didn’t how would you know to correct me right?
Before I was born my grandfather had Nine Children
The first two were not his
But they became his when he married his first wife
She brought along one son and one daughter
Along with a bag of her own alcoholism insecurities and diabetes
They came to a house where they unpacked all of her insecurities and alcoholism and they kept it in
A secret place that only they would know about, her diabetes wasn’t as easy to hide
And they brought the son and the daughter and raised them proudly
The father busy with jobs
and the mother drinking to drown away a pain that I know nothing about
A little time later the mother and the father had more children
One more son and three more daughters
The two oldest girls married quickly and ran off,
Leaving the two little sisters alone with the two big brothers
Whether before or after this Older brother took it upon himself
To sexually assault younger brother.
And little brother told no one
He still doesn’t talk about it to this day
So he grew up with that screaming pain inside him telling no one
And at some point it had to burst
But before that the mother and the father had separated,
The mother too desperate for her alcohol to care for her children
Left them
On Christmas day
Time passed for them as it did before
But maybe a little sadder
Big brother left and married had two kids and
we don’t see him much anymore
Sometime later
My grandfather found my grandmother
And they had a whirlwind romance
He the same age as her mother
She under his management at work
Fell in love with one another
I ask them sometimes if they liked each other for a long time while they worked together
And she says
“No he was too strict he wouldn’t let me chew gum at work”
They married in Vegas at five in the morning completely Sober
Carrying the four of his children left in tow behind them
They had been so eager that they didn’t have any witnesses there
until two hours later when the janitors came into work
My grandmother can’t remember their faces
But she still has the marriage license and on it there are to two names
of the men who brought my family together
It wasn’t a perfect family but its still mine
Time passed and then little now big brother exploded
He took out his anger and rage handed down from big brother
By sexually assaulting the two little sisters
I can see the pain that they have in their eyes
Every time they look at him
Every time he tries to pretend its normal what he did
Normal that he called them names and touched them
Threatened them
Normal that when my grandmother had three children of her own
Identical twin girls and a lucky boy
That he did the very same thing to them
I don’t see the pain in their eyes as much
One of the twins my mother had repressed the memories until I was 8 years old
The other twin still represses it, refuses to talk about it
The youngerst son,
The lucky boy who could have died more times than we can count on two hands
Thinks it may be what turned him gay sometimes
The other twin’s daughter
my somehow genetic half-sister my cousin
Didn’t know about this until recently
She still can’t believe that her family could have gone through so much
Can’t believe that they kept it quiet for so long
But she never wondered why
when the middle uncle came over while we were little
He was never allowed to sleep in the house
Why our mothers wouldn’t let us out of their site whenever he was around
I envy that she didn’t know for so long
I envy that she could still see our family through that rose colored glass
That she thought we were perfect for so long
Because I have taken off those glasses and thrown them against a wall
Shattered they still remain there
As I look through life
Nothing is rosy
I view everything in the most honest way I can
Sometimes I give people the benefit of the doubt
Sometimes I tear them to shreds inside my head
until there is nothing left but their fake smile and very real insecurities
I Envy her
Because Abuse is a cycle that WE were lucky enough to escape
Because she doesn’t know how close we were to becoming a statistic
I may not have the order right
But even if I didn’t how would you know to correct me right?
Before I was born my grandfather had Nine Children
The first two were not his
But they became his when he married his first wife
She brought along one son and one daughter
Along with a bag of her own alcoholism insecurities and diabetes
They came to a house where they unpacked all of her insecurities and alcoholism and they kept it in
A secret place that only they would know about, her diabetes wasn’t as easy to hide
And they brought the son and the daughter and raised them proudly
The father busy with jobs
and the mother drinking to drown away a pain that I know nothing about
A little time later the mother and the father had more children
One more son and three more daughters
The two oldest girls married quickly and ran off,
Leaving the two little sisters alone with the two big brothers
Whether before or after this Older brother took it upon himself
To sexually assault younger brother.
And little brother told no one
He still doesn’t talk about it to this day
So he grew up with that screaming pain inside him telling no one
And at some point it had to burst
But before that the mother and the father had separated,
The mother too desperate for her alcohol to care for her children
Left them
On Christmas day
Time passed for them as it did before
But maybe a little sadder
Big brother left and married had two kids and
we don’t see him much anymore
Sometime later
My grandfather found my grandmother
And they had a whirlwind romance
He the same age as her mother
She under his management at work
Fell in love with one another
I ask them sometimes if they liked each other for a long time while they worked together
And she says
“No he was too strict he wouldn’t let me chew gum at work”
They married in Vegas at five in the morning completely Sober
Carrying the four of his children left in tow behind them
They had been so eager that they didn’t have any witnesses there
until two hours later when the janitors came into work
My grandmother can’t remember their faces
But she still has the marriage license and on it there are to two names
of the men who brought my family together
It wasn’t a perfect family but its still mine
Time passed and then little now big brother exploded
He took out his anger and rage handed down from big brother
By sexually assaulting the two little sisters
I can see the pain that they have in their eyes
Every time they look at him
Every time he tries to pretend its normal what he did
Normal that he called them names and touched them
Threatened them
Normal that when my grandmother had three children of her own
Identical twin girls and a lucky boy
That he did the very same thing to them
I don’t see the pain in their eyes as much
One of the twins my mother had repressed the memories until I was 8 years old
The other twin still represses it, refuses to talk about it
The youngerst son,
The lucky boy who could have died more times than we can count on two hands
Thinks it may be what turned him gay sometimes
The other twin’s daughter
my somehow genetic half-sister my cousin
Didn’t know about this until recently
She still can’t believe that her family could have gone through so much
Can’t believe that they kept it quiet for so long
But she never wondered why
when the middle uncle came over while we were little
He was never allowed to sleep in the house
Why our mothers wouldn’t let us out of their site whenever he was around
I envy that she didn’t know for so long
I envy that she could still see our family through that rose colored glass
That she thought we were perfect for so long
Because I have taken off those glasses and thrown them against a wall
Shattered they still remain there
As I look through life
Nothing is rosy
I view everything in the most honest way I can
Sometimes I give people the benefit of the doubt
Sometimes I tear them to shreds inside my head
until there is nothing left but their fake smile and very real insecurities
I Envy her
Because Abuse is a cycle that WE were lucky enough to escape
Because she doesn’t know how close we were to becoming a statistic