www.whyville.net Jul 3, 2011 Weekly Issue

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Fragmented Family

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Being away from you is harder than I thought it would be. You're busy; I'm trying to get back on track. We see each other once every two weeks, if we're lucky. I think back to all the moments we've had before we became a fragmented family. We were all together, all smiles, all happy. Now, we're all separated, all in different cities, barely coming into contact with each other, and it kills me.

It all started about a year ago. My mother's life started to crumble bit by bit, and she could barely support herself anymore. A few weeks ago, I moved in with my grandma, so that my mother could get her life on track. My mother now lives about 20 minutes from me, but I barely ever see her. I miss seeing her smile, I miss hugging her; those were the arms that helped me through so much over the years. It seems like they've vanished, and it feels like they're never going to return. I can no longer confide in my mother for comfort, though I wish I could.

It's not the same with my grandma. Sure, I'm very close with her, and she's always been there for me. But for some reason, I cannot find the comfort in her arms and words that I did in my mother's. And now that my mother is not here to help me through, I feel like more and more people are chiseling away at my sanity. My mother used to have that hot glue gun that fixed me, but now I'm without it. Will I crumble? Will I parish without her? Only time will tell, but I can already feel the stress wearing away at me. I find it hard to smile at the things I used to, I find it hard to wake up in the morning, and I find it hard to let my emotions out to anyone.

Someone asked me, "Why don't you just call her?" Well, the answer to that is simple. She works, but won't get paid much until she gets promoted; and no one knows how long that will take to happen. Therefore, she only gets about 100 minutes on her phone each month, so when she does call me, it's a quick conversation. She barely has the time to come out and visit me and when she can, she can never stay long enough for me to tell her everything I need to. I still get that heartwarming hug, but never that amazing advice I so badly require.

My father, is a different subject. The word "father" makes me cringe, since I really actually don't know my real father. I've had a father figure since I was 3, and he's been there for me ever since. I refer to him as my father, even though we are not related by blood. I believe that genetics don't mean very much when it comes to family; it matters who's been there the longest.

Anyway, I do know who my real father is, but I have never talked to him, not once. And I never plan to either. He is really big into drugs, and it really disappoints me that I'll never have him in my life. Aside from that, my father figure's name is Keith. He was a boyfriend of my mother's, and he is also the biological father of my brother, Jeremy.

Quite the mess, huh? But no family is perfect. He has been there for me since I was 3 years old, and he is the only guy I have ever called "Daddy" in my whole life. I never see him either. He lives out in Pewaukee, which is a good 45 minute ride from where I live. He visits about once every month along with my brother, but that's not enough for me. My dad was also a big part in helping me, he was like my mother. My mother and father were the only two who could make me feel completely safe, the only ones who I could tell my feelings to without being scared. I feel like my mother and father are the only two people in the world that actually understand me and how my mind operates.

My family is fragmented. We're a puzzle, with the pieces scattered. Some of the pieces are just out of reach, and some of them are long lost. No one knows if we'll ever complete this puzzle of ours, but holding it together is all we can do right now.

- dxdxdxdx


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