Stacey's Song
One day, Stacey’s counselor told me it could take three to five years to pull her through the grieving process. My reaction was, “God save me!” When at wit’s end, HE was my only hope. I learned to use all the subtle hints HE provided to answer my current questions. Early in her grieving, Stacey acted out her anger. Most children can’t express pain in words, so they demonstrate it. I learned that from my grief counselor and her. Stacey shared her suffering with us in the following manner. She scratched, tripped, and irritated her new family. In rage, she challenged my discipline and requirements for self-control. Many times, I thought, “Helen Keller” instead of Stacey because the girl’s bitterness and anguish blinded her to an out reached hand. She grabbed the appendage clawing it. She appeared as a trapped, wild animal. Her grief appeared that deep! That is how Stacey’s aunt described the INITIAL YEARS AFTER she inherited the young relative due to her parents’ deaths. WOULD HER AUNT SALVAGE THE 10 YEAR OLD GIRL’S LIFE? Curious? Read the book. This book is the true life memoirs of a child (Stacey) that lost two sets of parents before landing in her aunt's home at age ten. It is an uplifting tale of how she survived losing one parent to cancer, suicide, immaturity, and other causes. It is full of minor miracles and inspirational ideas. Through this joint effort book, Stacey’s aunt encouraged her to express her past in order to help other grieving and disrupted children.
This EXCERPT from this nonfiction covers a part of the first, family vacation.
Walking back to our condominium, we decided to explore some resort shops. Julie pulled out a shirt with a boat full of manatees crashing into some helpless people. Checking the price, her mom offered to purchase it because my cousin’s environmental passion included saving that species. Jenny found a cute pair of sunglasses and matching hat, which fit Cindy’s pocket book as well. Looking for a den piece, my uncle found a turtle nesting sculpture. Meanwhile, a shopping spree enticed my interest. When I arrived to the cash register laden with a volume of self-indulgences, the mean step-mother made me take back everything except a T-shirt. Turning abruptly, I stomped away taking forever to return to the front of the small quaint gift store.
“It must be hard to go from a situation where grandma and grandpa over compensated her with unbridled shopping sprees to living in our family that economizes,” Cindy tried to explain my attitude to her natural children. They witnessed my almost daily outbursts. “Stacey isn’t used to sharing with two other children. She doesn’t realize if she weren’t here you might have gotten more, too. All she sees is what she didn’t get to purchase. It’s the same sixty dollars but instead of getting thirty each you all get twenty. You’ve sacrificed too because your grandparents died but she is too young to understand anyone else’s suffering.” If I waited with them in line perhaps I might have seen the incredible suffering my aunt hid. She, too, lost her parents and tried to make me a part of her family. However, I made her job close to unbearable.
My uncle became tired of my temper tantrum. “It’s my siesta time!” He proudly announced. On vacations, nap time was a necessary activity; jet skiing competed for his most favorite part of the ocean resort. His morning full of wave riding, lunch, and shopping prompted his rhetorical question, “Can you tend to the children alone? I want to catch the trolley to our room and get some Zs.”
Nodding in the affirmative, my aunt finished browsing with us. I spent the rest of this time avoiding her while we explored the town’s fare. Eventually, we ended our walking tour and caught the next trolley. As we sat on a bench at the entrance to our resort, a gardener from the complex arrived in our midst. You could hear his lawn mower over the sounds of birds singing and children’s pleasure on the nearby beach. Then, his engine halted as he lunged in our direction. In his grasp were four roses that he handed to the girls, their mom, and me.
“Thank-you,” The three of them gestured and spoke simultaneously as my nose sniffed at the rose in my hand. He rode off too quickly to hear our murmuring.
“Look! We all got different colors,” Jenny pointed out.
“Wonder how that guy knew to bring exactly four roses?” Julie wondered aloud.
“Yeah, and they are all different colors!” Aunt Cindy added.
“Where are the four rose bushes where he picked these?” Julie questioned in amazement.
We looked everywhere but could find no bushes to match our flowers. Next, Cindy took charge of the explanation, “That man must have been sent by Heaven. Only God would know to tell him to pick exactly four flowers. He would guide the gardener to us. Then, He would control just who got each color.”
Julie began her excitement prance. Jenny’s eyes widened. My eyes made contact with my aunt from behind the rose still perched at my nose. Her explanation affected all of us. Suddenly, my soul was connecting with hers. I could feel her grief and her joy combined as it surrounded me.
“Look, Stacey got the yellow rose that signifies sunshine. Surely, the message is for her to leave her gloom behind and enjoy her new family as well as this vacation. She has the right to be sunny and warm. God is telling her to be happy and enjoy her new life. It’s time to live again, Stacey. Come out of your gloom of despair!” My aunt’s voice swelled like a wave on the shore.
“Why is mine pink?” Jenny inquired.
“You are girly, and pink equals that!”
“Why is mine red?” Julie wondered.
“It is a strong color, and you are athletic,” He mom thought aloud.
She rambled more but her speech was interrupted by the trolley bell beckoning us to board.
When we looked back from the trolley car, the lawns were mowed, the gardening staff retreated, and the rose bushes evaded our view.
“That’s it!” As if a sudden revelation hit my soul, I interrupted the trolley’s bell. “This rose was sent by God and my mother. They want me to be happy.”
Meanwhile, my aunt’s three colored rose carried the message that we could merge into one beautiful whole. She anticipated the possibility of becoming one lovely flowering rose as a real family.
Later, on that very same vacation, all the girls in our family rode tandem bikes around the island. At first, I attempted to ride with the youngest, Jenny. However, that spelled disaster, so I partnered with Julie. As we rode ahead of Jenny and my new mom, our pace glided steadier and smoother until we blended into one unit. On this vacation, I learned cooperation and sharing as I adjusted to my new family situation.
When the bereavement counselor told my Aunt Cindy that it could take three to five years for me to work through my anger and finish my mourning, she bellowed, “Good grief, that’s forever!” On this vacation, I managed one step towards recovery, and a small flower inspired me to shift from solitude to community.
“It must be hard to go from a situation where grandma and grandpa over compensated her with unbridled shopping sprees to living in our family that economizes,” Cindy tried to explain my attitude to her natural children. They witnessed my almost daily outbursts. “Stacey isn’t used to sharing with two other children. She doesn’t realize if she weren’t here you might have gotten more, too. All she sees is what she didn’t get to purchase. It’s the same sixty dollars but instead of getting thirty each you all get twenty. You’ve sacrificed too because your grandparents died but she is too young to understand anyone else’s suffering.” If I waited with them in line perhaps I might have seen the incredible suffering my aunt hid. She, too, lost her parents and tried to make me a part of her family. However, I made her job close to unbearable.
My uncle became tired of my temper tantrum. “It’s my siesta time!” He proudly announced. On vacations, nap time was a necessary activity; jet skiing competed for his most favorite part of the ocean resort. His morning full of wave riding, lunch, and shopping prompted his rhetorical question, “Can you tend to the children alone? I want to catch the trolley to our room and get some Zs.”
Nodding in the affirmative, my aunt finished browsing with us. I spent the rest of this time avoiding her while we explored the town’s fare. Eventually, we ended our walking tour and caught the next trolley. As we sat on a bench at the entrance to our resort, a gardener from the complex arrived in our midst. You could hear his lawn mower over the sounds of birds singing and children’s pleasure on the nearby beach. Then, his engine halted as he lunged in our direction. In his grasp were four roses that he handed to the girls, their mom, and me.
“Thank-you,” The three of them gestured and spoke simultaneously as my nose sniffed at the rose in my hand. He rode off too quickly to hear our murmuring.
“Look! We all got different colors,” Jenny pointed out.
“Wonder how that guy knew to bring exactly four roses?” Julie wondered aloud.
“Yeah, and they are all different colors!” Aunt Cindy added.
“Where are the four rose bushes where he picked these?” Julie questioned in amazement.
We looked everywhere but could find no bushes to match our flowers. Next, Cindy took charge of the explanation, “That man must have been sent by Heaven. Only God would know to tell him to pick exactly four flowers. He would guide the gardener to us. Then, He would control just who got each color.”
Julie began her excitement prance. Jenny’s eyes widened. My eyes made contact with my aunt from behind the rose still perched at my nose. Her explanation affected all of us. Suddenly, my soul was connecting with hers. I could feel her grief and her joy combined as it surrounded me.
“Look, Stacey got the yellow rose that signifies sunshine. Surely, the message is for her to leave her gloom behind and enjoy her new family as well as this vacation. She has the right to be sunny and warm. God is telling her to be happy and enjoy her new life. It’s time to live again, Stacey. Come out of your gloom of despair!” My aunt’s voice swelled like a wave on the shore.
“Why is mine pink?” Jenny inquired.
“You are girly, and pink equals that!”
“Why is mine red?” Julie wondered.
“It is a strong color, and you are athletic,” He mom thought aloud.
She rambled more but her speech was interrupted by the trolley bell beckoning us to board.
When we looked back from the trolley car, the lawns were mowed, the gardening staff retreated, and the rose bushes evaded our view.
“That’s it!” As if a sudden revelation hit my soul, I interrupted the trolley’s bell. “This rose was sent by God and my mother. They want me to be happy.”
Meanwhile, my aunt’s three colored rose carried the message that we could merge into one beautiful whole. She anticipated the possibility of becoming one lovely flowering rose as a real family.
Later, on that very same vacation, all the girls in our family rode tandem bikes around the island. At first, I attempted to ride with the youngest, Jenny. However, that spelled disaster, so I partnered with Julie. As we rode ahead of Jenny and my new mom, our pace glided steadier and smoother until we blended into one unit. On this vacation, I learned cooperation and sharing as I adjusted to my new family situation.
When the bereavement counselor told my Aunt Cindy that it could take three to five years for me to work through my anger and finish my mourning, she bellowed, “Good grief, that’s forever!” On this vacation, I managed one step towards recovery, and a small flower inspired me to shift from solitude to community.
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Reviews:
See My 'SN Reviews' page from the index above.