25th
March 2012
Dear Cassi,
It is true that
I should have moved on from this part of my life. However, the memories of my
mother’s death slowly creep back in my head like ghosts haunting a ruin. Maybe
I haven’t gotten of it yet or perhaps I’m avoiding the more painful memories
that lie beyond.
In the sober
moments of my life memories cut at me like bits of class on naked feet. These
are the ones I save for a later date. I know that one day soon I will have to
speak of them but when I try my jaw titans and my hands shake.
Shortly after
my mother died I was asked to draw a picture of my family with crayons. When I
was done I had to tell the therapist who was in my drawing. I have a dim memory
of folks who had failed to arrive at my mother’s funeral. There were the closer
relations and such. Then the therapist mentioned that I had failed to draw my
brother.
He was as
missing as the brotherly love that should have passed between us. He was
missing like the compassion they should have felt for me. Even as a ten year
old there was some part of my mind that knew the truth.
When my
omission was pointed out I offered to add Missing into the drawing, but I was
told it was all right. The joke was on me, however, because all of those
figures would fade. The idea of these folks as family would become so
detestable to me that I would have drawn none of the folks in that image other
than my mother.
Now I would
include you, little sister
Richard Leland
Neal
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