Excellent What can happen if we don't let go. Little Billy : Letting Go. by keimosobie If Only I Knew ... contest entry

"If only I knew...." This is a tale of what happens when you hold on to something for too long. I don't like talking about this, but I'm going to do it. It's a good tale and it's worth telling. It was Christmas Eve around nineteen seventy five. I remember the car ride to my grandmother's house. My younger sister BethAnne was around five years old and my older brother Billy was around thirteen and myself, Timothy, around eight. The conversation went something like this. "What do you mean she's there? Forget it, we are not going!" said Dad. "We have to go. The children are so looking forward to it," said Mom. It was true we always looked forward to Christmas Eve at Grandma's. It was my mother's mother and my aunt and uncles and cousins would always be there. It was a magical time when I was a kid. "What do you mean we are not going?"I asked my Dad. "Yeah, what do you mean?" Mom asked. No reply came from my Dad and we all continued to my Grandmother's. I was very curious but I was happy we were on our way and didn't think much more about it. When we got to our grandmother's my aunt, Lori was visiting with her husband,Rob. What I didn't know was about to bubble to the surface. "You see, I was meeting my Aunt Lori for the first time or, so I thought; I began to tell her about my history." "Even as a child I loved to tell the story of my life and a set of fresh ears was always welcome. My aunt seemed terribly interested in what I had to say." "I was left in a foster home by my mother when I was three," I recounted. "That must have been terrible for you," she replied. "I miss my mother so much and many times I had cried myself to sleep thinking about her." "I'm sure your mother had a good reason for leaving you," she said. "Oh, I know why my mother left me," I replied. "How could you possibly remember; you were only three?" she asked. "She left me because she found a new man who didn't want kids," I said. "So she left me in a foster home. I remember the day she left I asked her 'Are you coming back?" "Yes," my mother had replied. I don't know why, but I had the feeling she wasn't coming back. She didn't come back, or at least so I thought. That's when things got weird and they were about to get a lot weirder. "See I didn't lie," my aunt said. Thinking my aunt had simply misspoken, I said,"She did lie. She never came back." Later on after we opened the gifts I was sitting on the sofa and staring at my Uncle Rob. I wasn't just staring. You see five years earlier, the day before my mother and her new boyfriend were going to put me in a foster home, they took me out and asked me what I wanted to do. I wanted to ride in one of those push pedal cars. So they took me to a junk yard and they paid the junk guy some money to let me ride the car around. At the age of three I knew what was going to happen. Don't ask me how. As I rode my car around I stopped in front of my mother and her new man and I stared at them. Partly because I was hoping the guilt would make them change their mind and because I wanted to remember this man-this man who was separating me from the only thing I had in the world. It was just me and mom for the first three years of my life. (You see, my real father was killed by a mortar round or a rocket in Vietnam while my mother was five months pregnant with me. So for three years my mother cried on my shoulder, she used me as her teddy bear to comfort her through many lonely nights and painful days.) I parked in front of them and stared at him. Burning an image of him in my mind and praying to God for vengeance against him. They told me to stop staring so I pedaled on. Well, here I was five years later sitting on the sofa looking at Uncle Rob in his chair. Somewhere from my subconscious came the memories of a three-year-old and without even realizing it, I was staring at Rob the way I stared at him when I was riding that car five years earlier. Just then poor uncle Rob became very distressed. "Oh my god. He is staring at me the way he looked at me that day." Racked with guilt he put his hands over his ears and was making this high pitched whining noise rocking back and forth. I must admit, I didn't really know what was happening. Later that night when things had settled down, my aunt and uncle talked with my parents, they argued for some time. "I told you, I knew we shouldn't have come here. I knew this would happen," My dad said loudly. They seemed to come to a settlement and my aunt came to me and asked me an even more peculiar question, at least I thought so at the time. "Would you like to come live with me and Uncle Rob?" Well I thought about just saying yes, but I wanted more to go on. "Why would I want to do that?" I asked. "I think you know." She said. My father immediately interjected. "That's it. You have your answer," he said. I was immediately ushered off into to some other room. Later I tried to ask questions about what had gone down. I would not get any further information. With the ease of an eight year old, excited about Christmas. I quickly forgot the whole thing. On the car ride home my mother asked, "Why did you tell your aunt about missing your mother so much?" "She seemed interested," I replied simply. "Well you shouldn't do that," she replied. "Okay Mom," I said. Well that's the story except that when I got older my mom told me that my Aunt Lori and my uncle Rob had broken up. "That's too bad," I said earnestly. "You are the main reason," She said. "How could that be," I asked. "Just trust me," She said. I didn't understand how that could be at the time, but I didn't pursue it. You see, I caused a great deal of pain. To myself, to my Aunt and Uncle Rob. I could have reclaimed her. To be honest, I should have let it go. That would have been best for everybody. If I had it to do over again I would. I held on so tightly. I hurt many people, foster parents, teachers, friends. If I hadn't loved her so much, if I would have let it slip gently from my being. I would have been much better off. I didn't though and I am sorry for everything. You might be wondering, how I pieced this together? When I was an adult I went back to college. At the tender age of thirty I took English 101. For an assignment, I wrote a persuasive essay. It could be real or made up but I had to back it up with facts. I made up a scenario that my father's brother who was killed in Vietnam was really my father. I then began to fill this essay with facts that would prove he was my real father. The only thing was the facts were real. He really was my father and then a few years later I did it again with my Aunt being my real mother and guess what the facts were real. Some of them I just revealed to you. Just do me a favor if someone who knows me reads this, don't tell anyone. I figured this stuff out thirteen years ago and this is the first I've spoken of it. Recognized Author Notes Thank you to Cammy Cards for the use of your photo.

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