Defining Moments

WAITING

THAT FATEFUL DAY JANUARY 31, 2012:

I remember this fateful day like it was yesterday. The day that Danielle and I would talk would change my entire life. It would become a memory burned into me like a brand. Branding was always a trigger of a memory to my past. Kendra, used to brand the children that she wanted to molest or sell into prostitution. The children that were bought for my family were branded to show that they were cattle. Each brand represented a financial dollar amount to be paid for by the males. Something happened in that fire. I was beginning to have flashbacks to my childhood of abuse. My memories were coming back. Why did the fire trigger this? My mind couldn’t process this at the moment as I was concerned about Danielle.

I was nervous that morning as I went to Danielle’s house to talk about the future of our relationship. I felt based on what she told me that she was not allowing herself true love. I had prepared a speech which I never got to tell her. In hindsight there was a paragraph in the speech that seemed ironic now as I look back on it. In the part of the speech, I asked Danielle is there someone else?

I met with Danielle at her house. When I arrived at Danielle’s house we talked about the new dogs that she had gotten. Underneath my clothes I wore the Christmas present that she gave me. I thought I can reach Danielle. I thought that I could show her that she is worthy of true love. We talked about work, how things seemed to be bogging her down. We began talking about the prior week when she was having a crappy day at work on January 17. We talked about how it went down. At the time, I wanted Danielle’s day to improve. It came to me. I called a friend and asked them to drop a bouquet of flowers off at the convention center. Well on the day of the 18^th, this so called friend ran out of gas. I had to go all the way to Converse, pick the flowers up and deliver it myself. When I called the catering group that Danielle worked for they had said that I would have to deliver the flowers myself to the kitchen of the convention center. I thought hmmm now what kind of surprise is that? I decided to be bold. I walked up the concierge of the Grand Hyatt and said that I was expected to be in a meeting and here is 20 dollars cash tip if you could deliver these flowers to Danielle in the convention. The concierge beamed with a radiant smile and said,

“She is one lucky woman to have someone like you.”

I smiled. Attached to the red roses I had also attached a pack of Yellow box of American Spirit cigarettes with a note. It read,

My Dearest and Beloved Danielle, 1.18.2012 WED.

I had a service drop these flowers and candy off for you

From me (and yes I wrapped it..lol) (I even wrote them a script

of what to say upon delivery..LOL). I am currently in interview

to leave my current job. (I had to scratch that out and write in I

had to deliver these flowers myself as the florist ran out of gas). I loved hearing your voice this morning. It was great. I wish

I was there to have ironed your clothes.

I wanted you to have a better day today. I have included a

pack of cigarettes with the dark chocolate and roses in case you

were out…

I know that you were having a crappy yesterday, however

today is a new day with new possibilities. May this delivery give

you new inspirations and new smiles.

Yesterday you said it seemed unfair regarding time spent

with me. KNOW THIS. TIME is nothing compared to you. I am

here and will wait for you for all eternity. If I have to rearrange heaven and earth by the powers that be, I will. I made a deal with another manager to have one of my days off coincide with yours starting next week. Just knowing that we love one another and that we each other’s soul mates, amazes me. There will be a time very soon that every night I can hold you, talk with you in the night watches, and listen to your heart beat. There will be days that you might feel overwhelmed, or days that just are shitty. Just know, I am here. Here is a line from a poem I wrote for you,

“I was dead inside until you showed me extraordinary measures. Thy own touch, thy own heart tore down the generations of hatred committed upon me. Your love set me free to become the woman I was meant to be, so that I might find you, a woman of substance, of beauty, and greatness.

Take my hand now my love and stand with me by the shores of life, and together we shall fly for we are one voice, one soul.”(Tabula Rasa Mee Nah: Extraordinary Measures).

Danielle “Luceta”, I honor you and love you. ….you are special. There is nothing unfair regarding you. “THE ONLY RIGHT THING, THE ONLY FAIR THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED IN MY LIFE was and continues TO BE OUR LOVE FOR ONE ANOTHER, and THAT WE FOUND ONE ANOTHER!!!”

HAVE A GREAT DAY. And soon my love when we do have private time, I will light candles for you, relax you, and lay the path with roses. For you are so special. The only thing I ever want is you in all that you are.

“KAT”
Within an hour of Danielle receiving the flowers and note she texted

“Aww, Honey, thank you. I loved them”

Danielle shared with me that that no one had ever done that before let alone convince the concierge who just called back to her. Danielle had to go pick them up. I pull out my cell phone and show her the video that I had just made. It was the video portfolio of Katherine Symthe. It was called who is Katherine Symthe: An artist portfolio. As she was watching the video I noticed her wince at the part in the video where I said

“Blessed by true love” and it showed a picture of her cutting the duck that she had made for Christmas 2011. I thought to myself that is odd that she would wince.

When she finished watching the video, Danielle looks at me,

“We need to talk.”

“Okay” I responded.

“We need to change the dynamic of our relationship. I’m over my head and my children are suffering because I’m not spending time with them,” Danielle states as she sits on the couch.

“We can still be together. I can help,” I argue.

“I am their provider, not you. I hate my life. I’m not happy. I’m gaining weight and can’t find the balance in my life,” Danielle argues.

I look at her with curiosity as to why she is doing this.

“I have to make some cuts in my life and unfornately you are one of those cuts,” Danielle states.

I am in shock. I am a cut. What am I? A budget? This statement came as a complete shock.

“Are we breaking up?” I asked.

“Yes, we are. I need time and space to figure everything out. My career is just beginning to take off.” Danielle responds.

I felt like that Danielle was choosing her career over me. I was going fight for the one I loved.

“You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to do what I did in my early 30’s choosing career and never knowing true love,” I argue.

Danielle begins to cry which makes me cry. This was not right. I thought and felt that Danielle convinced herself that she was trapped and that she was choosing to get rid of true love. I argue with Danielle,

“All of your life you asked for a true love. You found me and even said you were blessed by me and now you are going to throw it away?”

Danielle cries even more.

“Let’s go outside and smoke a cigarette”

We go outside and sit on the white swinging chair. This chair held many a memory for us. The nights I would come over and sit with Danielle. We often discussed what kind of house we wanted and how our future would look together. This was the chair that Danielle fell to her knees crying when she took our engagement rings. I remember when she cried, holding me in her arms telling,

“You are the only woman that I would ever want to marry.”

I sat there on the chair with Danielle. There was a certain silence that was erry. She looks at me with sadness.

“I am going to fight for us,”

“I know. You always will like I asked you to. I asked you to never leave me behind.” Silence fills that statement. If Danielle didn’t want to end this then why is she saying this?

“Is there someone else?” I ask hesitantly.

“No this is not about someone else. I don’t even have time for you. How would I have time for someone else?” Danielle asked.

I sigh in relief that I had not been replaced.

“When I find the balance, you will be the first woman, the first

person I date again. That would be lovely for us”

The way Danielle looked at me when she said that made me think she was telling the truth. She had never made me doubt before. I remember making a slight comment about irony because I wore the gift and now she is calling it quits.

We finished our cigarette and went inside. My heart was racing. I am not going to leave her behind. I promised her when we took vows of love to one another. I would never leave her behind. We talked once more and that is when I realized she was not going to change her mind. I wanted to cry and scream yet I had promised that I would be the rock. I looked at her and said,

“Is there hope of you coming back?” I asked.

She smiled and said,

“There is always hope. I just have to find my balance.”

We look at one another when the discussion of the engagement rings came up. The answer would surprise me and give me hope at the same time.

“What about our rings, and the vows we said to each other that is on each of our rings?”

“I want to keep them, my ring that you gave me. I am going to lock the ring my personal box along with the other gifts that you have given me.”She replied.

“I will not sign over the car because I promised you that I would take care of you.”

Something told me to rally the last bit of courage to fight for her. What came out of my mouth was surprising. In hindsight I now understand why I said what I said. At the time I was merely trying to make a point. She was sitting on the couch and I was kneeling at her feet. I rise up, hugging her. I whisper into her ear,

“Don’t give up. You always said you were afraid that one

day I would leave you, or be with someone else. You hated

what the others did to you. Now you are doing the exact same thing to me. Why?”

Oh my god! Danielle became so enraged at what I had whispered into her ear that she pushed me off of her, pointing towards the door,

“You have to leave my house now!”

I immediately apologized, cowering in front of her.

“I was only pointing out that you don’t have to give up on true love. You can have love and family. You asked me to never leave you behind,”

Danielle looks at me without saying a word in disgust. I back up in submission gathering my stuff.

“I’m sorry,”

“I need to take a nap,” Danielle states as she was begins to become emotional. I leave the house and get into my car. I fall apart emotionally inside my van. I was devastated that she just tossed me out of the house. I felt at the time that I had failed to reach her heart. I texted her,

“Have a good nap”.

Danielle responds,

“Thank you”

I drove home, angry and crying. I began swearing in my car cussing life out.

“How dare you do this to me” I shout at the top of my lungs.

“Have I not seen enough pain in my life? Why? I am sorry if I scared Danielle and she could not handle the abuse I went through.” I kept yelling.

Honestly, I don’t even remember how I drove home that day. I felt like my world had just been ripped apart. When I got home, I walked into my bedroom and fell to the floor crying. I remember my painting in the living room. I stared at this painting of a tree on a pond. I remember yelling at the picture.

“Why have you done this to me? I did what I was supposed to do. I lived, I kept their voice alive. I have helped other people all my damn life. The one thing I asked for was true love and you slap me in the face like this. How dare you Spirit. Fuck you and the horse you came in on.”

My emotional state became unstable. My anger was beyond my level of understanding. I was so enraged at the pain I was feeling when suddenly I began to have flashbacks. These flashbacks I had not seen before and my memory was flooding back. All the abuse, the rapes and now this. It was flood of information like computer downloading information. At that precise moment I hated what God was doing to me. At one point, I fell to my knees begging life to not be this cruel. I lived 18 years in cruelty why must I endure more.

“I am sorry I could not save Sarah” crying emotionally

When I said Sarah’s name out loud I suddenly realized that I needed to call a friend, Henry. He always seemed to understand my anger and sorrow.

Henry listened as I ranted and raved. I kept going back to Sarah.

“Is this what this about? Fucking life is punishing me for not saving Sarah. I tried to save her and could not get up. I tried. So now I am being punished by having my heart ripped out?” I ask.

Henry immediately interjects raising his tone of voice which caught my attention. Henry has never raised his voice to me before.

“KAT! CALM DOWN. This is not about Sarah or any of the other children. Or do you forget how on your 7^th birthday in 1979 that they held you down, taking a 4 by 4 and crushed your back. How you had to go thru 36 hours of surgery for them to have you walk again. They broke your back. That bitch killed Sarah not you.” Henry argues.

“But you don’t fucking understand,” I said being interrupted by Henry.

“You always bring Sarah up and the other children. You survived to teach others hope. You were the strong one chosen by spirit.” Henry states.

I immediately became quiet as I begin to have a flash back of that night my back was broken. The memory was as intense as I began to relive that night from my childhood.

Three men approximately 5’8-6’0, medium build take steel pipes and 2 by 4’s and begin to beat the shit out me. I am laying on the blood spitting up blood. I about 8 years old. The pain is so intense.

Suddenly the three men hold down as Kendra, my mother, joins in by taking the pipe to my back. I was never allowed to call my mother. I was only allowed to call her by her name, Kendra.

“Hold her tight. I want to hear the bitch’s back break,” Kendra yells.

The pipe hits my lower back. There is so much pain as I try to hold back my tears.

“If you don’t stand up, I will kill your sister Sarah. You will take this beating, bitch,” Kendra taunts.

Snap, crackle, pop as I hear the bones in my lower back breaking. I scream at the top of my lungs in pain. I couldn’t move. I look up at Kendra. I have blood running out of my mouth.

“Remember this day bitch. Because you couldn’t stand up, your sister

died. You’re pathetic. Can’t take a beating. For the rest of your life, you will remember what a coward you are.” Kendra laughs as she motions for the men to take Sarah, who cries.

` I cry as I see Sarah hauled off in a car. I remember thinking, you son of bitch. I can’t move my legs. I tried to move my legs. I would never see Sarah again after that night. I would see her decapitated head given to me as a Christmas present that year with a note.

My shakes in pain as I hear Kendra screaming at me,

“No one will ever love you because you are a bastard

child and you could stand up. I broke your back. Now maybe your spirit will die.”

Suddenly I am back in the present. I hear Henry.

“Kat, are you okay?”

“I don’t understand, I just saw the past,”

I begin to tremble.

“You’re having a flash back. You need to sleep. I think you are being triggered.”

I decide to go to bed. I thought maybe this was a bad dream. I fell asleep crying. My dreams were not pleasant that night. The grief I felt from Danielle was somehow triggering my hidden grief from losing my sister Sarah. My mind and soul couldn’t understand why I was suddenly having flashback. I wake the next day angry wondering, where do I go from here.

In my grief I associated Danielle’s loss with Sarah. In my mind I had to fight for Danielle. I had promised Danielle that I would always be at her side. I had to fight no matter the cost. Little did I know that what I was about to fight for, would be a losing effort. Danielle never intended for us to continue.

The loss and rejection by Danielle began to trigger my memories that I had repressed from my traumatic childhood of torture and abuse in the first 17 years of my life. Deep in my mind the events began to unravel in flashbacks. Victims of trauma often place the memories of their abuse to the side to survive. Danielle’s abandonment went to my core of sorrow. The days and weeks to come would bring more flashbacks, nights of me crying and drinking to forget the pain of childhood. It would be spiral into the darkest parts of my pain that I had begun to relive.

In the days, to come I knew and had this blind faith that Danielle would return to me. I decided to write journals to her like we had done in our relationship when we were together. It was ritual that Danielle and I shared.

Early in the relationship, Danielle said,

“I love your writing and your notes. Write to me in journals and when we get together, I will read them so I can feel your soul, your heart and know that we are soul mates.”

Every night I would write Danielle in journals and when we got together, she would take them, and read them. One time when I went to her house, she had the journals under her bed.

“Your words mean the world to me. I know by keeping them that we meant for one another. I kept them under the bed imagining you next to me so that when we get together we are closer” Danielle states. Danielle told me that through the journals I wrote to her that we were staying connected in our love for one another.

The memory of writing those journals and how she loved them inspired me to write the journals I was about to write. My goal was that when Danielle returned to me that she knew that I never left and I was here the whole time waiting. She would know I kept my promise. I called them Journals of Hope.

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