Silent Pain

Posted Sunday, September 4, 2011  1:44 PM


This is a photo of my parents, my three older brothers, and me.  It was taken at my parents' 50th wedding anniversary.  I did all of the work, and my brothers chipped in a little cash to help with the expenses.  That's the worst part of being the only daughter, and my sisters'-in-law barely lifted a finger.  We had approximately 150 guests!


As I mentioned, I grew up in a very strict home.  That's just how it is when you're Southern Baptist.  However, I can't remember my Daddy ever laying a hand on me. I can't remember either of my parents telling me they loved me, although I know they did.  They weren't raised in affectionate homes, therefore they didn't show any affection in our home.  I never saw my parents even show one another affection.  Occasionally, when my Mama walked my Daddy to the door for work, I'd catch a glimpse of them  giving one another a "peck" kiss.

I remember when I was 15 years old.  I was in the hospital for several days, ill with mono nucleosus.  The nurses were attempting to start an IV.  I had never been hospitalized before, and I was already scared to death and very ill.  They must have taken turns trying to "stick" me ten different times.  They even looked at my feet for a "good" vein!  During this painful process, my Daddy called, and my Mama was talking to him on the phone.  I told her, "Tell Daddy I love him".  A moment passed, and she said, he said  to tell me that he loves you, too.  That was the first time that my Daddy ever told me that he loved me...and over the telephone through my Mama. My Mama didn't tell me though.  Years later, after the many trials I experienced, they both began to tell me they loved me, but only occasionally.

Being the youngest child and the only girl, my brothers thought I was spoiled.  I didn't feel spoiled. We purchased most of my wardrobe mostly at Kmart and from an older cousin, who had outgrown her clothes. Most of the other girls got their clothing from the mall. don't get me wrong. My clothing was always clean, pressed, and presentable.  In fact, when we go to church, my Mama took extra care in making me look pretty. Every Saturday, no questions asked, I bathed, shampooed my hair, and sat what seemed like for hours, while my Mama put rollers in my hair.  She then sat me underneath a old-fashioned hairdryer for what seemed like an eternity.  She'd get my Sunday School Book out, and have me study the lesson for the following day's class.

My brothers often talk about how Daddy use to whip them with his belt on a regular basis.  If they were altogether and one did something wrong or was making too much noise, they ALL got a "whippin'".  Perhaps that's one reason why my brothers thought I was spoiled.  I was never treated like that by my Daddy. My Daddy still denies their claims of such abuse.  Although, he does admit they do exaggerate the truth.

Sometimes I often think my brothers hated and despised me, especially the youngest one Terry.  He was six years older than I, and had always been the baby, until I came along.  He use to set me up to get into trouble, blaming me for things that he did and such.  Unfortunately, most of the time he succeeded.  As usual, then I'd get a "whippin'" by my Mama, usually with one of daddy's belts.  Terry never tried to get me into trouble when Daddy was home, because he knew, I wouldn't get that kind of punishment.  One thing I learned early on, is never try to run, get away, or put your hands across your butt when Mama was giving you a "whippin'"!  Boy, the repercussions would be dire!  I forgot to mention that she would have me pull my pants down, to really impress my bare skin with that belt.

It's strange how Terry seemed to actually "like" me, when I was approximately 14 or so.  He wasn't mean to me anymore.  It was around the time I was seeing Ken.  I think Terry actually understood, but wouldn't dare admit it. He began dating a full-blood Hispanic girl, whom he eventually married.  I didn't and still don't understand why my family was so accepting of her, yet my seeing a Black guy had completely devasted them.
Today, he lives in Kansas, and is a District Manager for the IRS. He has a wonderful family, a wife who doesn't have to work.  He is a ordained deacon , and they attend their Southern Baptist Church every Sunday.

My middle brother, Tim who is married to my husband's sister, lives out in the country, near my parents. He and his wife have two grown children.  When we were young, he'd take me shooting and didn't treat my like the "Royal Child.".  He really didn't live with us for very long.  He was twelve when I was born, and as soon as he was able, he was out of that house, renting a mobile home in town.  We really have nothing in common.  We keep up with each other, but we don't get together much. However, we both know that if either of needed the other for anything, we'd be there to help.

My oldest brother Don, was sixteen when I was born. He calls himself the "Black Sheep" of the family, and he's probably right. He's just been a "mess", since I can remember.  His first marriage ended in divorce, after they shared two children.  He remarried, and has actually remained married for many years now.  He lives in Apache, OK. He's done auto body work most of his adult life, and he's good at it.  However, he's just never been able to handle his finances.  Even at his age, he's still having to borrow money from Daddy and Mama.  It's odd how he and I are the closest.  We don't talk often, but we when we do, we can talk for hours, mostly about Classic Country Music. As with my other two brothers, Don would (and has been) there for me when I need him.