by Shirley B.
I suppose that in the mind of my sister and I, we assumed we would just stay where we were, on the farm with great grandma and great grandpa, but we assumed wrong. In the midst of all the strangers we saw at our father's funeral were his youngest sister and her husband. I'll call them Mr. and Mrs. A. They were childless themselves and had decided for their own reasons to take up our father's cause to take custody of my sister and I . So within a very short time, we found ourselves in the old county courthouse, before the judge, in the middle of the custody trial. I remember walking into that huge building and looking around. It seemed as if every one we had ever known before was there. There was an aisle down the center of the room that led to the judges seat in the front and center, high and lifted up.It looked as if those on one side were the strangers and people we knew who lived around the old farm area, and on the other side was, of all people , our mother and her current husband, and their friends. As it turns out, most of these people were here as witnesses for or against her. She had decided to fight for custody of us. Why, we wondered? She obviously didn't want us before and her husband had told her to get rid of us.
It was only later when we got older, that we realized there was money involved. Whoever had custody of us would get Social Security checks and Veteran's checks every month for each of us, my sister and I, until we turned eighteen.
Our great grandpa took us in and we sat and listened. It was a long trial and days went by as one by one, the majority came forward to testify against our mother . In the end, it was decided again, that she was unfit and custody was given to Mr. and Mrs. A. My sister and I were beginning to get a pretty good idea of what was going on but not what the end results were. Then the judge called us into his private chambers to question us about our mother and we answered truthfully what we knew of her, not really realizing that we had sealed the case once and for all. Suddenly, the strangers were in the chambers with us and the judge, and the uncle who had introduced our father to our mother was there too. He looked a lot like our father.
Also, there was one other uncle on my father's side of the family. There was a commotion and scuffling going on out in the hall, and things were getting loud out there. There was tension in the air all around us. Our great grandpa, that gentle old man, had pulled out his knife and headed for the judges chambers. He was going to get my sister and I and take us out of there and back to the farm. That was his plan, but the police were on him before he could get to us . My sister and I quickly began to listen and put two and two together, and the fight was on. The first uncle grabbed me up and the other grabbed my sister. That was it. We knew!! , and we both began kicking and screaming and fighting and throwing punches as best we could while they literally dragged us out of there to cars that were already waiting for us. Mr. and Mrs. A. had won, and we were on our way to a place we did not know , to live with people we did not know, and frankly, even though we realized now that they were our father's kin, we didn't think too highly of them right at this moment. So as this part of the journey began, we sat in the back seat of that car and listened to every word of their conversation intently, and watched and tried to remember as many landmarks as we could. First chance we got, my sister and I decided we were going back to the farm. This wasn't the first time we'd made our way home by ourselves, so we thought we could surely do it again. Then we heard them say we were all going to stay over in Baton Rouge. Remember that name. Where ever that was, we thought , don't forget that name.
That night in the hotel where we stayed, we watched as they disgustingly tossed our new dresses and shoes we had worn , into the trash, as if they had fleas or lice or some such thing.
My beautiful yellow dress and red canvas shoes were gone. The rooms we stayed in opened onto the swimming pool in the center court. It was dark outside and Mr. and Mrs. A. were in bed already , so we decided to go out to the pool and make our plans. We had never seen a pool before and in spite of ourselves were a little curious about it. So we sat there on the edge with our feet in the water and planned our escape, and compared and organized the things and places and landmarks we remembered seeing on the way to this place called Baton Rouge. We didn't realize they were eavesdropping on us too. They didn't say anything to us yet.
As we finally came into Galveston, Texas, we realized just what a mighty task we had set for ourselves, but we were determined. Aha! We spotted a bus station!! Now all we had to do was remember our way to that bus station and things would be easy from there. This was the longest journey we had ever taken but at least the two of us were together. Together we would be alright, no matter what. My sister had my back and I had hers and though we were very afraid of what was ahead of us, we were ready , so long as we were together, we could manage.
I remember that everything and everybody was so quiet as they showed us into the house that was to be our new home. It was late so they showed us the bedroom that would be ours to share, and as they turned to leave, with a "by the way" type of attitude, they laughingly told us that we could forget about running away, that no bus station would agree to take us back to Mississippi without being paid in advance. Money? Well, we sure didn't have any of that!
Mr. and Mrs. A tried at first. I have to admit that, but it didn't last long. My sister and I were tested to see what grade we should go into. I went to second grade and she went to third. We had retained more than we realized in our hit and miss education. Mrs. A took us to have clothes made for each of us. Yes, they were very wealthy it seems. However, in her eyes , my sister and I looked enough alike , she thought she would dress us like twins. What was she thinking?? The things I remember most about those first months in that strange place, was the parade of people who came and went in that house. It turned out that they were members of a huge Baptist church in town and Mrs. A. made very sure that all the "church ladies" and such, knew of the good deed she was doing. Mrs. A. would dress us up. We cleaned up pretty well on the outside, but then she'd tell us to go sit in the chairs on the side of the room and keep our mouths shut! It was true that we sounded like we came right out of the backwoods of Mississippi, which we did, but somehow, Mrs. A. was getting frustrated with us that she couldn't get the accent and the slang out of our vocabulary. We were still very rough around the edges. Mostly ladies, would just come and stare at us while conversations went on in hushed voices. It was one of the most rude and unkind things to do to two little girls who had just lost so much.
And that brings me to the second thing I remember of those earlier days there. Something that never changed over the years . Even though our father was Mrs. A.'s brother, we never heard them mention his name, especially not to my sister and I. There was a very real yearning in our hearts , when our grief was so fresh and real over his death, to talk about him. We wanted to hear all there was to know about him. We didn't want to forget him, this dad who we hadn't even seen for so long. We wanted to remember how he looked., to see pictures of him so that his face wouldn't fade from our memories. However, we received none of these things . It was like he never existed , as far as they were concerned. So my sister and I kept the memory alive in our own way.
All was not well or peaceful in this new and strange place.........
Psalm 34: 18 tells me..
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those who are crushed in spirit.
It was a fine line my sister and I walked, between hope and despair.
1 Peter 5: 10 tells me...
In his kindness, God called you to his eternal glory by means of Jesus Christ. After you have suffered a little while, he will restore, support, and strengthen you, and he will place you on a firm foundation.
My sister and I surely needed that firm foundation. Ours seemed to be constantly crumbling beneath our feet. There was a song that was very popular in Mississippi during those days when my father died. My aunt use to sing it sometimes as she played her guitar. The words were seared into our minds, because it went like this:
"How Far is Heaven?"
A little girl was waiting for her daddy one day,
It was time to meet him,
When she heard her mommy say...
Come to mommy darling
Please do not cry,
Cause daddy's gone to heaven,
Way up in the sky.
How far is heaven?
When can I go?
To see my daddy,
He's there I know.
How far is heaven?
Let's go tonight.
I want my daddy,
To hold me tight.
There must be more words to this song , but after I left Mississippi, I never heard this song again, until almost 35 years later. God used this song to give me hope, that my father was indeed in heaven and someday, I will see him again.
To be continued...............
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