Gaps. Holes.

I remember a lot of things. I don't try to repress them. In fact I think my being deaf greatly depended on my visual memory. I can recall as far as I was two years old at least. Even the most vivid and vicious memories I can recall... like my mother scraping my thigh with a broken piece of vase to remind me not to break anything ever again. I even have a reinforced memory later at sitting at a table picking at the scab that she gave me on my left thigh while looking at her when she was being angry at something. That what I mean by vicious memories. Too many damn horrid memories of being with my mother BEFORE I was five years old. And you'd think no toddler would remember this kind of shit that young.

I like to believe that memories kinda helped to round me out in whole. Who you are can be reflected from your past...

But I did have a gap when I kept insisting that day when I last saw my mother before she died was the night she was taken to the hospital for the last time... she was... how do I put it... she was more than out of it, she plainly as fucked up as anyone can be from a serious STD. I wasn't sure how long she stayed at the hospital or how long before she died I last saw her. I also recall that we also went to a foster home at one point and stayed there for maybe 3 weeks... but I do remember waking up at the apt to find grandma and the rest of the family there to help to move furniture out. Took a hour or so for my grandma to get her act together to get my brother and I alone in a room to let us know that she finally died. And not only that, she died like on June 25th and school then didn't close for summer til late May or early June and I definitely recall a lot of days when I stayed home to "take care of mom" and left school early in general too. Its possible that we were sent to the foster home when grandma arrived finally (probably right around when school let out) and realized the gravity of the situation (they don't talk... long BS story here) and got us put into the damn home for awhile as she probably took care of things involving my mother at the hospital. So I wasn't sure if I saw her 3 weeks or so BEFORE she died or a few days... :\ The whole thing is rather fucked up really all the same... :\

I second the poster said that its not worth opening a pandora's box for mere curiousity. Be careful what you ask for...

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Well let me explain to you in a way I understand it.

As a child you don't really need to "trust" anyone outside of your family circle then. As you get a bit older into your teens, you gain trust of your friends and so forth. As an adult you trust your general population as a driver, shopper, etc etc.

Take me for example, I didn't realize my mother was abusive til I was older. My grandma commented to me once that I was actually showing fear when my mother came home one day (from a drug rehab). I didn't understand but I actually do remember that. My shyness was part of it. I couldn't trust anyone at all to treat me any better than my own mother. This kinda preset a shit load of psychological baggage. Trust me.

What's really shitty that I as an adult, I realized my fucking family knew. They all did. Guilty bastards. And how do I look at them now? Its possible that the times were "different" then for anyone to be capable of much. But still, do I hold them accountable as a family member? I never held much of a bond with anyone except my brother and my grandma.

My brother is my most precious best friend (he's younger than me) I'd do anything to protect. Why? Pretty much everything that happened to me did absolved him from it since he was younger and yet I got most of the backlash. I kinda get really angry when my brother starts talking about our mother like she's some great hardworking mom. I'm like WTF, are you HIGH as heaven? But after talking to him about it, I realized he does NOT remember much of her... she died when he was only like 9... and I left it at that. I rather to have him treasure a little bit of a memory he had with his mom as a good memory.

Seriously, some memories can rock your own soul to the core of your being to gain perceptives of people you thought you knew... and worse, you thought you loved. For a good example... my grandma. How can she stand idlely by as her daughter snatched us (bro and I) into a beat up red truck with her boyfriend of god knows how long and go disappear for a year. A year before she died. Its really messed up. I don't understand why my grandma let that happen especially after knowing that my mother was in drug rehab for a good while and is extremely sick. I remember they got into a fight, and you know what my mom did after she took us? She bought us a piece of toy. :\ I actually remember the toy. And I still have it. :\ Knowing what I know now doesn't help me realizing such cruel methods of my mother. More I grew older, the more I fucking hate her. And she's dead, and most of these damning memories couldn't help me to absolve any of them with her. I'd ask the family members if they remember, but they don't remember anything beyond my own brother did. Just mostly drama like stories. Just overhead details. Not the intermediate details... :\ And then you learn a whole new meaning of DENIAL.

So basically when you're questioning your memories, you kinda start questioning THEIRS. Just too much distrust is not worth the ripping the gap between the family, if possible already there. I already abandoned my own family a long time ago, when I moved a few states away, I just don't look back. But I do miss my brother who I love very much. You just kinda hold those type of people very much closer.

There's nowhere I can't reach.