I am unsure if the fact that don't have vivid memories of more than a few events in my life past, is a normal thing or not. My friend Matt Oscienny had impeccable memory and could recall things with so much detail. I envied that so much. In recent years I have tried to be more observant of my surroundings and trying to implant things in my mind, consciously, so that I can have memories when I get old and all of my friends have died. I have this horrible feeling, that karma will bite me in the ass by letting me grow as old as possible to lose every single one of my loved ones before I die totally alone. That's part of the reason why I've considered suicide. Suicide will allow me a pre-emptive strike against karma. The fucker. Instead of experiencing the pain of losing hundreds of people, for my whole life, and therefore not being able to properly follow through with the grieving process and therefore be healed and ready for the next big blow....I would kill myself, and then all of my friends only lose one person. It's math. Math always makes sense.
I have not, and will not, kill myself. As much as I fear the neverending pain, I am too selfless for that. I am a mother, and if that has taught me just one thing, it is to sacrifice EVERYTHING for your children. They are tender and beautiful and it is YOUR FUCKING RESPONSIBILITY to take care of them. If you can't reorganize your thoughts to believe that you are doing ONE SIMPLE THING rather than several thousand things, and WANT to sacrifice, then give those children to someone who will. Don't be a fucking asshole. Assholes are worthless. Take care of your goddamn kids.
My father grew up in North Battleford, Saskatchewan and my mother grew up in Sutton/Lake Simco, Ontario. They met in Leaf Rapids, Manitoba. Mining or something. In some year, probably late 70's, early 80's, the moved to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, with plans to settle down and get married and all that jazz. (This is evidence of my terrible memory. It's not that they've never told me about all this, its just that I forget. Best daughter ever.) In 1982, my Mama, after several negative pregnancy tests and a super-fun-and-not-scary-at-all pregnancy and labour, gave birth to April-Lee, my sister. April-Lee was premature. Born at 27 weeks. Because of complications during birth, she developed Cerebral Palsy. She was also blessed with scoliosis and epilepsy. I use 'blessed' in the most sarcastic of ways, believe me. Eleven months later, in May of 1983, me and my pretty white trash face entered the world. White blond hair and pale-as-a-vampire skin. This would later be discovered as a rarity in my family. I was that weird grey kitten in the litter of blacks. In February of 1986, Betty; my sister, was born. My best friend. In January of 1988, Johnathan; my brother, was born . My other best friend.
April-Lee, is the greatest person in my life. It's sort of difficult to admit that, because either my parents, my husband, or my children would ideally make more appropriate candidates. The older I get, the more I figure out the different gifts and opportunities she has given me. She's inspired me in an unfathomable way. There is not a single doubt in my mind that I would be a completely different person if my older sister did not have any physical or mental disabilities. And the best part? She doesn't even know it. Her intelligence isn't able to understand the feeling of being able to inspire someone. That makes me so sad. Having been someone who was given the honour of being a source of inspiration, it is one of life's greatest blessings.
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