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Who Am I

I may from time to time offer links to products or services on my blog. If you click those links, and make a purchase from them, I might get some money to take a vacation...and, by take a vacation, I mean hop on my bike and hit the open road {trails around my house} or maybe attend a movie if it's been a good month.  Thank you for contributing to my bliss!

 

Michele

I am taking a writing class with Jess Morrow called the Invincible Summer.  This is one of the pieces I wrote this past week.  I’m a bit behind on my blogging but not on my writing.  I’ve written more soulful pieces this past week than I have in my entire life.  Most of them are private and some haven’t even been shared in class but I wanted to share this piece with you today.  My heart is pounding and I’m wondering who will see it and what they will think but I’m willing to take the risk so I may grow.   I decided to share after reading so many wonderful posts through Liv Lane’s How to Build a Blog You Truly Love  ecourse.

Michael John Bezette

I was named after an uncle who died before his time.  He was just 19, enjoying the freedom of the open road.  Taken away too young in a motorcycle accident.  Heartache and devastation swooped in and stayed in his place.

He was known as the favorite, the perfect son.  Hard for my father to live up to his big brother’s legacy.  Hard to be the one left behind when everyone was grieving.  Forgotten in the wake of the funeral.  Left to figure life out on his own.

I was born two years, to the day, after his death.  A fact that was never shared, not discovered until I was 45 years of age.  I’m not sure my mother ever knew.

She was just barely 17 when I came along.  Although she married my father, it didn’t last long, and she was without his help from the beginning.  She was blessed to have a devoted mother who loved her enough to step into his shoes and care for me when she couldn’t.  She was hurt, lost, young and broke.

I knew this life would be full of toil and tribulation.  I wanted everyone to know this life terrified me by refusing to leave the safety of my mother’s womb.  A month overdue, 36 hours of labor and the assistance of a c-section forced me into this world, whether I liked it or not.

My grandmother was my rock.  She knew what it was like to do it alone.  45 when my mother was born, my grandfather was 60.  So sure he couldn’t have fathered a child after such a long life, he abandoned my mother before birth.    My grandmother stepped in and cared for me until my mother was ready.

And then a new life began.  A life with a step-father who loved me, or so it seemed, until I developed a voice of my own.  A voice he silenced quickly.  Shortly after my arrival in this family, my brother came a long.  A boy, born through the union between this man and my mother.  A boy, destined to be his favorite…his child, with a quiet voice.

I longed for my grandmother’s arms.  Her loving care.  A space in which I was the center of someone’s universe.  I allowed no others to care for me, playing the role of a spoiled, awful child, unworthy of love…until she would come in and take me away, to love and nurture and make sure I felt special.

I remember the smell of the jam on the stove top as she canned.  The berries filled the air, spreading through the steam as they boiled, lingering long after the canning was complete.  I still have some of her canning supplies.  Even though I don’t use them, I can’t let them go, anymore than I will ever be able to let her go.

I remember the look of concentration on her sweet face as she played solitaire at the kitchen window every day.  She loved that game and I would watch her as I played nearby with my dolls; the dolls and I in matching outfits.

She was a seamstress and a good one.  People were always stopping by to drop of clothes to be altered or to commission a specific piece, made from scratch.  She also made clothes for my dolls and I, with tags that said “Made by Grandma with Love.”  I loved watching her sew.  I loved the sound of the machine as it hummed along the seams of her latest creation. I loved watching the yards of fabric as they gathered close to her body, nudged along by the needle.

So many fond memories of my time with her.  Our time together meant everything to me.

I was eight when we moved away.  A life-changing moment that left me feeling completely alone, as if a part of me was missing.  I remember very little before that point in time, blocked by the deep sense of loss I felt inside.

I was thirteen when she died.  I never cried.  I sometimes think that’s why I cry so easily today.  Tears un-shed for the losses in my life.  Those disparaging moments that claimed a piece of my heart forever.

It wasn’t until my age entered the double-digits that I was told my father was not my father.  A lie spoken for years, making me think I was someone I wasn’t.  Somewhere out there was another man who had a role in my life.  I just didn’t know what that role would be.

I tried to ask questions but never got far.  The man I believed to be my father always got so angry whenever I brought it up.  He said my father was a horrible man who didn’t care for his children and I was lucky I didn’t have him in my life.  At the time, I just wanted to learn that on my own.

He fathered four girls, I’m the oldest, all with different mothers.  All but one, left without a care, to be raised by another.  My youngest sister, the same age as my oldest child, had my father in her life.  She’s done things in her life most never experience, nor should they.  Maybe this man was right.

I still feel the loss.  The loss of a man too focused on his own life, built on the pain of his existence, to care about someone else.  The loss of a grandmother who meant everything to me, first lost by location and then by death.

Yet, through the pain from losing my grandmother, I learned to really love my mom; to connect with her.  I know she struggled as a young mother.  I know she did the best she could. She has turned into a loving and kind mother who never judges me and is willing to help in any way she can.  I see my grandmother every time she smiles.

This life has blessed me; teaching me things I never would have known except through experience.   It has brought about a depth to my soul that longs to be shared.

I am blessed to have had these two beautiful women to love me…to care for me…to nurture me into who I am today, holding space for one another throughout my life.  Together they inspire me to be better every day than I was the day before.

I am truly blessed.

June 13, 2012 Filed Under: Quotes Tagged With: musings 23 Comments

About Michele

Michele Bergh is a teacher, a student and a lover of life. She is a healing artist who enjoys a variety of mediums and also has a few mad techie skills up her sleeves. By day she primarily does WordPress design and development and works with others to create a blissful life. By night, you'll find her behind a camera lens, on her bike, in a big comfy chair, cooking up a storm in her kitchen or sewing while listening to great music (probably from the 70s) on her ipod. Her greatest joy comes from living a orgasmic life by design.

What Others are Saying

  1. Joan Steffend says

    June 15, 2012 at 11:07 am

    Beautiful, Michele. Writing truth is very powerful and I’m glad you’re inspired to do it. It is obvious to me that strong and caring women is your lineage! Much peace to you!
    Joan

    Reply
    • Michele says

      June 15, 2012 at 11:14 am

      Thank you, Joan. It is powerful on so many levels and I am enjoying the journey. Peace to you as well! PS I saw your new book you have coming out – congrats!!

      Reply
  2. Nancy Lennon says

    June 15, 2012 at 7:49 am

    Michele, I am so glad you were brave enough to share this! You are such an amazing person. ~Nancy

    Reply
    • Michele says

      June 15, 2012 at 12:17 pm

      {blushing again} Thanks, Nancy. I sure do appreciate you:)

      Reply
  3. Sue says

    June 14, 2012 at 9:46 pm

    Michele,
    What a wonderful post and your writing is terrific. I loved hearing your personal story, thank you for sharing, it touched my heart.

    Reply
    • Michele says

      June 15, 2012 at 12:14 pm

      Thanks Sue. I’m working on getting more comfortable with writing and sharing:)

      Reply
  4. Carin says

    June 14, 2012 at 2:30 pm

    Thank you so much for sharing Michele! Your grandmother sounds like a wonderful woman, a real lifeline in your life. So glad you got to experience her love, even though the circumstances you were in were less than ideal.

    Reply
    • Michele says

      June 14, 2012 at 7:50 pm

      She was and I still miss her. Thank you for stopping by!

      Reply
  5. Angelica says

    June 14, 2012 at 12:53 pm

    Both of this are really wonderful and terrifying..Your such a brave person..Thanks for sharing hope you can share more..

    Reply
    • Michele says

      June 15, 2012 at 7:36 pm

      Thank you Angelica. Your words are very much appreciated.

      Reply
  6. Janet Hovde says

    June 14, 2012 at 7:05 am

    Michele, Thank you for sharing your story. I honor you.

    Reply
    • Michele says

      June 14, 2012 at 7:50 pm

      Thank you, Janet.

      Reply
  7. Jenna says

    June 14, 2012 at 2:02 am

    I felt like I could see everything you were writing. It was like I was lost in your story. Thanks for being brave and sharing this part of your journey with me!

    Reply
    • Michele says

      June 14, 2012 at 7:51 pm

      Thank you, Jenna. I’m really enjoying Jess Morrow’s ecourse on writing and it has made me more comfortable to write more from the heart.

      Reply
  8. Liv Lane says

    June 14, 2012 at 12:57 am

    Oh, Michele – this is so beautiful and brave. I am even more in awe of you, knowing the challenges you faced growing up and how you’ve managed to focus on the goodness your mom and grandma instilled in you. I feel honored that you let us in to this part of your story. xoxo

    Reply
    • Michele says

      June 14, 2012 at 2:54 pm

      They were and are beautiful women who inspire me. My mom is so supportive of whatever I want to do and I never feel judged by her, which is such a wonderful space to be in.

      Reply
  9. Amy says

    June 13, 2012 at 10:00 pm

    I really enjoyed reading your piece–the writing was beautiful. Just wanted you to know I think you’re very brave for sharing and although I’ve never met you, I feel like I’ve seen a piece of your soul.

    Reply
    • Michele says

      June 14, 2012 at 8:24 am

      Thank you, Amy. This class with Jess has really opened up something and its both wonderful and terrifying.

      Reply
  10. Carrie Monroe O'Keefe says

    June 13, 2012 at 9:49 pm

    It’s so interesting to look back at our families and the different ways we learn about love. What it means and what it doesn’t. What a beautiful description of the love you longed for and the love you found. Lovely.

    Reply
    • Michele says

      June 14, 2012 at 2:55 pm

      It is very interesting. Our families have such an impact on us. Thank you for your kind words.

      Reply
  11. Carol says

    June 13, 2012 at 9:08 pm

    I so much related to your description of your grandmother. She must have inspired you a lot. I got a bit of that inspiration by reading your post. Keep on writing!

    Reply
    • Michele says

      June 13, 2012 at 9:37 pm

      She was great and I only have fond memories of her. Thank you for stopping by!

      Reply

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