Another Day, Another Story
Children, thank heavens, have the capacity to find joy regardless of background problems. Until, one supposes, events so egregious occur that there is a breaking point and there is no longer occasion to feel joy. These two beautiful children have never experienced the kind of despair that might cause them to lose hope in the future. But they did tell me a story about one of their friends who just might be in such a situation, and your heart breaks.
Our most immediate fears of what our daughter's erstwhile partner might do when he discovered that the locks had been changed in the house they own co-jointly have not materialized. We breathe easier on that score, but there are so many facets to this worrisome event that fears erupt as soon as others are submerged. It doesn't help at all that there was a case this past week-end which occurred in Windsor, where a former boyfriend of an emergency-room nurse murdered her in the very hospital where he too worked, as an anaesthiologist. She had an 8-year-old daughter and had become part owner of a house with a divorced man. She too had decided that the relationship was disfunctional and took steps to separate herself and her child from the man. She was waiting for a peace bond to come into effect, but even that would not have saved her.
Our daughter sent a letter to her past partner's lawyer advising that she has had the house locks changed. She left a copy of the letter in her post box, knowing that her previous partner would pick it up, dropping by as he does for his mail. She conjectures that he has not yet changed his mailing address in fear that should he do so, he might somehow jeopardize the status of his part ownership in the house. This time, however, unlike the other times in her absence from the house, he did not enter. She has advised him, through the medium of the letter that he must inform her in advance if he wishes to enter the premises to remove any of his belongings and arrangements will then be made for him to proceed - with a neutral individual present as witness.
Yesterday she packed up all the foodstuffs in her kitchen cupboards that she had bought for his consumption and for his son on his bi-weekly week-end visits, and took the resulting three boxes-full over to the Food Bank. She has steadily been removing all items that belong specifically to him and replaced them with those newly-purchased by herself, unwilling to use anything that he owns, at this juncture. She had told me a few days earlier that his son, six years old when his parents separated, had been fearful of his father's behaviour immediately after separation. Now his son is thirteen, but still remembers that time when his father screamed insanely, thumping on the doors and windows after his wife had locked him out. The boy had been over for his week-end visit when the very same thing happened with our daughter, and he had been grimly silent, once again witnessing his father behaving in the very same fashion. In both instances, the women had been fearful for their safety. Would that we could always be aware of such things before, not after the fact.
Yesterday we experienced our first snowfall, an all-day event which left plenty of snow on the ground, but which overnight rising temperatures resulting in a steady rain washed away by morning. But winter is upon us and snow aplenty there will be in the near future. Neither of her neighbours, both men with strong ties of friendship to her former partner has come forward in his absence to assure her, now a single female with a child living a fairly isolated lifestyle (until the house can be sold and her portion of the proceeds used to purchase another house, of her own) that they will continue as they have always done, to plow out her long driveway after snowstorms. I have asked her to go to them directly to ask for their help, but she refuses to 'beg' as she calls it.
Instead, she has decided she will procure a snowblower. A snowblower won't do her any good, she needs, at the very least, a more powerful snowthrower. After some discussion with her she has agreed to allow her father to purchase a good quality snowthrower for her, and it will be delivered to her home. She will learn how to use it because she is determined to do so. Just one more element of complication in her already impossibly complicated life.
The two children, Angelyne and her girlfriend Stephanie, came bursting into the house as usual, after Angie's grandfather met them at the school bus stop. After their snacks, they chattered non-stop about the events of their school day; no outside morning recess due to an all-morning rainfall, so they were bored out of their skulls as a result. I heard the various names of other children in their class who are either friends and nice, or not friends and blooming idiots (my words, not theirs, obviously).
Then Stephanie's voice floated over to me from the breakfast room, as I stood by the sink in the kitchen. Their friend Brittany, one of their little clique, was not at school. Her father had just died, of a heart attack. Stephanie had said 'Dad' and I thought she'd said 'dog', and thought how odd, her dog had a heart attack. Then Stephanie said to me that Brittany's mother had died when the child was born, and poor Brittany had a simply dreadful time with her mean step-mother. This is the stuff of legend, the mean and wicked step-mother, the father who doesn't see it, the child who suffers. Surely a legend here, too? But no, both girls affirm that the mother had died, the father had re-married, now the father is also gone, and the little girl, their special friend, is alone and has no one to really care about her. My mind barely is able to take all this in, and my soul rebels against the unfairness of the life visited upon a child.
There's more, much more to the story, they tell me. The step-mother is always yelling and screaming at their friend, even in the schoolyard when she drops the child off at school. The little girl often weeps in class, and they try to comfort her. Once, the school principal witnessed one of the screaming sessions and intervened. The girls also mentioned that it became common knowledge that the step-mother was warned by the school, that if they continue to observe such treatment of the child they will contact the Children's Aid Society. The little girl's grandparents, the children said, have tried to take custody of her, but the step-mother continues to foil their attempts. Good heavens, good heavens, is there truth in all of this? The children are earnest, they certainly believe what they're telling me.
The girls babble on between themselves, and I hear them plan out a little gesture they will prepare to attempt to cheer their friend up, on her return to school. They will co-produce a card, both do the artwork, take turns penning the composition within to assure their friend that their hearts and thoughts are with her. Heads bent seriously over their work, they discuss every aspect of how the card should present itself, what they mean to convey by it. Deep in the process of creativity, they revert to their usual cheerful selves, and while still plying themselves toward the completion of the card, they also clown for my camera.
posted by Pieface @ Thursday, November 17, 2005
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