My Life in Print

I knew my biological father as a a very young child.  I remember him visiting me at my grandmother’s house, mainly on the weekends.  I don’t remember him coming very often but I do remember some instances.  One particular instance always comes back to mind.  I must have been younger than 6 years of age.  He came on a particular day, right around Christmas.  He stayed for a little bit and when he was about to leave, told me he would bring my a doll for Christmas.  I was so happy and excited about that!!.  

He never came back.  I never got a doll from him! 

Throughout the years that passed after that, I realized that I actually didn’t care about the doll; I just wanted him to come back. 

I told myself throughout those years that when I graduated high school that I would travel to Puerto Rico to see him and find out why he didn’t come back; I lived in NYC at the time.   

Once I graduated from high school someone I knew went to Puerto Rico with me to look for my father.  All I knew at the time was that my father lived in the city of Guayama.  We went to Guayama and asked around and eventually made it to a very small cottage looking, house.  I got out of the car, walked up to the house and knocked.  The door opened and there he was.  My father.  The first thing that came out of his mouth was “Michelle Clarisse?”.  In which I responded with “yes”.  It was a very mixed feeling emotion that I felt at that moment.  I really didn’t know what to say or how to feel.  I waited so long to see him and then words failed me.  

My friend convinced my father to stay with us for a day so we could spend time together.  He told me that he didn’t want to leave NYC but so much happened to him that he decided to go back to Puerto Rico, where he was from.  Eventually he gave me his cell phone number and we would call each other every now and then.  

After I had children, I would write letters to him and send him pictures of his grandchildren and he would write back.  

I felt at that time that I was doing what was best for myself as well as for him.  

We lost contact for a little bit and then realized that the cards and letters I would send him were coming back to me as “undelivered”.  I reached out to a police precinct and eventually they contacted me to let me know some very sad news.  My father had passed away months ago.  That was such a sad time.  It took a while for me to get over his loss.  

I feel the only way to heal is to talk about the things that are ailing you.  Things that happened many many years ago but somehow still have a hold on you.  I want to heal properly!! I want to move forward the best way possible!! I want to talk about things that nobody wants to talk about.  Things that were “swept under the rug” and never brought up again, but actually never discussed.  

I was molested as a child..... in a house full of adults.  Multiple times.  I was scared and confused and often thought I was to blame.  I didn’t tell anyone because I thought I would get in trouble.  That’s what “he” said.  That person was my older cousin.  He would follow me around.  Ask me to go into the bathroom with him.  Show me “dirty” magazines.  He would get in the bed with me to feel on me when I was sleeping--I would wake up and get out of bed and walk (scared) to where the adults were but would say nothing.  I had so much fear.  I can’t understand why nobody noticed the fear in my eyes.  

Finally my mother found out but I wasn’t the one who “told”.  It was my younger sister who had been going through similar things with our same “cousin”.  

They never spoke about it.  We didn’t go to the police about it.  His mother, my aunt, didn’t believe it.  My mom did though and that was enough for me at the time.  

I’m so proud of my little sister for saying something because I can’t imagine what would have happened had she not said something.