Why does it have to be this way?

"Three may keep a secret," wrote Ben Frannklin, "if two of them are dead."

I wish I were one of the few lucky people in the world who sees everything through rose-colored glasses. I am not. I wish I were one of those who think they were blessed with no character flaws. Once again, I am not. I am a practical person with realistic and down to earth values. Occasionally, I do lean in the direction of being a misanthropist when I get on my soapbox, and today is one of those times. I am deeply saddened. I feel I should have done something to alleviate a situation many years ago, but I did not. I didn’t know how. I am angry. I am angry with myself. Period.

I read the words on a social network post, that someone, a family member, is in the care of hospice. She didn’t want anyone to worry or fuss over her and kept the burden about having the ‘Big C’ to herself after being diagnosed terminal a few months ago. I know that is the kind of person she is, and I have accepted that. The truth about her life is the anger within me that has no limits. I don’t know where or how to begin to write about her tragic life, when my thoughts are reeling of guilt.

This is a story about a family with a few dirty secrets and turned a blind eye to help a child in need. Secrets that became an exercise in avoiding the situation, driving a cleft between those in the family who know the secret and those who don't, and members on the two sides are driven apart by the knowledge. We all knew who was harmed, and who was being protected. We were all noble enough to perpetuate this secret, clearly knowing how damaging it was. It’s a tragic story of abuse on all levels. I asked myself, “Where was God in all this?” Who knows…maybe this is the answer.

The first time I saw her she was nine months old. She was a preemie that wasn’t much bigger than one of my dolls. In fact, she was a blonde haired cherub, with big trusting eyes and pink cheeks. She joined our family fifty years ago with the union of marriage. She was a sweet child who always wore a big smile and as she got older, she became the scapegoat for everything that seemed to go wrong in everyone else’s life. I’m not going to write about her demons and how she coped with them. We all have our ways, some self-destructive, some not. But what I can tell the world is that she is truly a good person. She’s a loving mother and grandmother. She’s a trusting, sensitive, and caring person for as long as I have known her and I love her very much.

This story is not finished...it has yet to be written...