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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781496920430 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 06/25/2014 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 118 |
| File size: | 3 MB |
Read an Excerpt
Overcoming Loss and Embracing Hope
A 9/11 Widow's Story
By Kathy Trant
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2014 Kathy TrantAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4969-2045-4
CHAPTER 1
"Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending."
* * *
- Maria Robinson -
I was born in Staten Island, New York, in 1962. I had an older brother and a younger sister, but I was always considered the tough kid – my mother says I was definitely the most difficult child to raise. Strong willed and emotional. Fearful and defiant. A personality filled with contradictions.
My parents divorced when I was 5, and my mother was left alone with three children and no support system. But she was a sunny optimist – she didn't give in to despair. She did the best she could to keep us all afloat, but I know she struggled mightily. I internalized enough anxiety for both of us.
A "rescue" came in the form of a stepfather when I was six. He married my mother and moved us to Connecticut, and then to Massachusetts. I remember riding in my stepfather's old Cadillac, feeling anxious and scared. But mostly, lonely. Loneliness became my constant companion, and it stayed with me throughout my childhood.
I was distracted and hyperactive – today I probably would have been diagnosed as ADHD. I was always frustrated in school – unable to concentrate enough to study and do well on tests. My one sweet memory from elementary school was a teacher who did her best to make me feel like a child who mattered. When I didn't get any votes for class awards, she designated me "cutest student."
My stepfather took control of the family when he married my mother. Every two weeks, we were put on a bus to visit my father and stepmother in New York City. As I grew, my loneliness and isolation grew like a neglected weed. I was always angry, and most of the time I took out my anger on my siblings. The only time I felt a part of something good was when I visited the Dooley family up the street. They had six kids and their parents loved me like I was their own. I'd go there for sleepovers and tag along with them on family vacations. The kids and I would practice gymnastics and cheerleading, doing cartwheels on the grass and running along the sidewalks. It was the best part of my childhood – the rare occasions when the loneliness lifted for a while.
My life took a hard turn in the wrong direction at 11. My stepfather left, and I began to experience mood swings. It was later diagnosed as a symptom of bipolar disorder, but at the time I just felt angry – at my mother and at the entire world.
As I look back on that time, I realize how strong and brave my mother was. This had to be the most difficult period of her life. She had four kids by this time, and worked three jobs to support our family – without a car. But no matter what the circumstances, she never, ever complained. I can close my eyes and see her trudging up the street through the snow, hunched forward from the weight of the grocery bags she was carrying. Still, not a complaint. She never even mentioned the hardship she woke up to every day.
That summer, my life took a horrific turn that would haunt and scar me forever. I was sent to stay with family friends in Florida. A couple who lived nearby had two children I played with regularly. I'd sometimes spend the night there, but these sleepovers became real-life nightmares.
The first time I was invited to sleep there I was really excited, but my happiness turned to fear in the middle of the night. Imagine being just 11 years old and being awakened in the dark by a monster in the room. The monster touched me in places I knew no one should touch me. It happened again and again that summer. I would close my eyes and pray that the monster wouldn't come back, but he always did. I pretended to be asleep, but it didn't stop him. I dreaded the moments he touched me, but felt powerless to stop him. I knew he was wrong, but I was scared and ashamed. I guarded my dirty secret for years, never telling a soul what the father in that house was doing to me.
What was wrong with me?
I didn't know enough about sex at that age to really understand what was happening to me. I only knew that sex was supposed to be something that happened when I was much older, and with a person I loved. What he did to me made me want to vomit.
Why would a grown man want to do this to a young girl?
The monster continued to molest me for two months, and I continued to keep it a secret. Like most young sexual abuse victims, I was afraid to tell anyone or ask for help. I felt dirty and ashamed, as If I was the one who had done something wrong. When I grew a little older, I felt guilty for not telling anyone. He could have been molesting other children. I never confessed my horrible secret to anyone until I was an adult, when I told my parents and Danny about it. But the damage was already done by then, and the guilt and shame had eaten away at my self-esteem for years.
After returning home from "summer vacation" in Florida, I became overwhelmed by my emotions. I had built up so much anger and fear inside, and I released it by lashing out at the world. I couldn't tell anyone my awful secret, but I could act out, and that's just what I did when I entered middle school.
I spun out of control. Middle school was not a time of learning for me. I drank and smoked pot. It didn't take long before I was moving to heavier drugs.
Schoolwork, which had always been difficult, now seemed impossible. I would watch my friends succeed in school and become frustrated and angry.
Why should I even try? I'm flunking anyway.
I believed I wasn't capable of achieving in the academic arena, so I rarely put forth the effort to keep up with my classes.
When I entered high school, I found a friend. Julie Fisher and I became inseparable. I still struggled academically and emotionally, but having her in my life made it bearable. Julie always had a boyfriend, but I could never open up enough to have one myself. I never felt worthy, or pretty, or popular, like my brother and sister. I always felt like there was something wrong with me. But then I found a guy who paid attention to me, and a new nightmare began.
I was 16, and entered into a relationship with a 22-year-old man. The loneliness lifted again, at least for a while. I was thrilled that a popular guy like him would even notice me, never mind like me. I moved in with him when I was 17. It was such a relief having someone else to lean on – someone who seemed to want me around. So at the tender age of 19, I married him.
CHAPTER 2"Man may have discovered fire, but women discovered how to play with it."
* * *
- Candace Bushnell, Sex and the City -
Most people consider marriage to be something you should enter into when you are finished with school, settled down, and in love. For me, marriage was an escape from loneliness. Instead of following the traditional steps one takes to reach goals in life, I threw away those opportunities. I dropped out of high school to get married. My girlfriend Julie convinced me that enrolling in community college would be a smart move, so I followed her advice and registered for classes. Then my new husband and I launched into a full "college partying" experience. Our lives were a continuous celebration of smoking pot and drinking alcohol.
I soon discovered that I was pregnant. Despite the fact that I had little stability in my life, I couldn't help but be happy about this news. I wanted a baby – a baby girl. I wanted a baby girl so badly that even when the doctor told me the heart rate indicated it was a boy, I insisted that people only bring pink gifts to my baby shower. I was certain I would have a girl, and I would name her Jessica.
My husband had something growing in him, too – an addiction to more hardcore drugs, like cocaine. In my heart, I knew I needed to create a different kind of life for my baby, but instead of preparing for parenthood my husband was turning into a monster before my eyes. The beatings began.
The first time was a day I came home from work unexpectedly with a horrible case of morning sickness. All I wanted to do was sleep. But when I walked into the apartment, a full-blown party was going on. I screamed my indignation and insisted that everyone leave. My husband was furious. As soon as the last person cleared out, he pulled me by my hair and threw me to the floor. He began punching, hitting, and kicking me. Terrified, all I could do was try to protect my pregnant belly. When it was over, I was covered in bruises from head to toe. From then on, every complaint from me was answered with a beating from him. I know I sound like a foolish stereotype, but like many women who become abuse victims, I didn't leave. I thought it would stop once my baby arrived.
The day Jessica was born was one of the happiest days of my life. I had a natural delivery, with a midwife assisting me. I gave birth to a baby girl, just as I knew I would. She was healthy, and I was determined to keep her protected and content. Breastfeeding gave me a sense of security – I felt like I was doing something important to keep my baby healthy. I was amazed by the depth of my love for my little girl. I had experienced a lifetime of loneliness, but when Jessica came into my world the loneliness disappeared. She filled a void in which I had lived for my entire life.
My husband never hurt Jessica, but he continued to use me as his punching bag. By the time she was six months old, I knew I had to get out. I was desperately in need of money, so I found a job. One night while I was working and my husband was home with the baby, I felt a powerful mother's instinct and knew that I had to get home to my baby as soon as possible. I left work and arrived home to discover my husband and his friends using cocaine. A mattress had been set up to block the entrance to the kitchen, and Jessica was in her crib, screaming. Her diaper was falling off, and her face was so red I knew she had been crying frantically for hours. I calmed Jessica, bathed her, and called my mother. She made me promise I would leave, and I agreed to do it.
Late that night, after his friends left, my husband came into the bedroom where I was asleep. He woke me up and gave me the worst beating ever. He was so strong, and each blow was harder and more painful than the one before it. I fought back as hard as I could, but I was no match for him. He finally stopped, and I thought:
Is this love?
Why am I here?
What's wrong with me?
The next day while my husband was at work, I kept my promise to my mother. I packed up Jessica and a few belongings and escaped. I had to leave and never look back. I couldn't bear to revisit the reasons I felt I deserved to be beaten and thought it was okay for a husband to treat his wife so horribly. I never wanted to put Jessica in harm's way, and I knew it was my responsibility to protect her – to protect both of us.
I divorced him and took classes to become a bartender. The bartending helped me earn a good living and I was soon able to afford an apartment. My family was a huge help to me – my mother was always willing to take care of Jessica. My sister, who also had a baby, shared the apartment with me.
I was very vigilant and protective of Jessica, and eventually, my husband accepted that our relationship was over. He left both Jessica and me alone. I continued to raise Jessica while working as a bartender, waitress, and legal secretary. Being a single mother was tough, and it was often hard to keep going. I had no idea that better times were ahead, and that one of the most wonderful gifts of my life was about to be revealed.
CHAPTER 3"We plan our lives according to a dream that came to us in childhood, and we find that life alters our plans. And yet, at the end, from a rare height, We also see that our dream was our fate. It's just that providence had other ideas As to how we would get there. Destiny plans a different route, or turns the dream around, as if it were a riddle, and fulfills the dream In ways we couldn't have expected."
* * *
- Ben Okri -
It was February 2, 1987, and I was about to experience a miracle. I was at a club called Jazzberries when Danny Trant walked into my life. The first time I saw him I remember thinking to myself, "That is the most gorgeous man I have ever seen." Danny was six foot, two inches tall, with short brown hair and gorgeous green eyes.
It wasn't until later that night that he noticed me too. I was wearing a beautiful yellow dress, cut low in the back. Danny turned to his friend and said, "I'm going to marry that girl." Of course, nobody imagined it would really come to pass.
Several weeks later, I was at work – I also had a job as a legal secretary – and my boss told me that there was a guy who worked at the District Attorney's office that had a crush on me. He said the guy wanted to take me out on a date. I was a little hesitant, but of course I was flattered. And curious. I told my boss I'd consider it if he would first point the guy out to me.
At the time, Danny worked at the District Attorney's office as a Victim Witness Advocate. Apparently, he had seen me come in and out of the office, but I wasn't aware of it.
When my boss showed me who it was, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was the guy I had seen at Jazzberries! Danny Trant. There was no doubt in my mind – I was definitely going to accept his offer for a date.
Our first date was unforgettable. The moment we looked into each other's eyes, we knew we could never spend another moment apart. He had invited me to join him at a friend's apartment because the friend was away. We had Chinese food to eat, an apartment to ourselves, and plenty of time to talk.
Conversation came so easily with Danny. I talked about my daughter, Jessica. He told me about his career as a professional basketball player, his happy childhood, and many other stories. I was riveted as he spoke. Just looking at him and listening to him talk gave me butterflies in my stomach.
Later that evening, he was playing in a basketball game. I went with him to watch the game, and I couldn't believe how talented he was. Danny was an amazing basketball player. After the game, we continued to talk ... all night long. During the weeks that followed, I learned more about Danny, and everything I learned filled me with love and admiration.
Danny had grown up in Westfield, Massachusetts, the seventh of nine children. He never spoke an unloving word about his family, so I knew they were responsible for the incredibly kind and charismatic man he had become.
As a child, sports were everything to him. He practiced his favorite – basketball – for hours on end. Even during the winter, Danny would shovel the snow in the school parking lot across the street just to practice. He told me that the first basket he ever scored had gone into the opponent's net during his first basketball game, but it didn't discourage him. Danny was incredibly disciplined and persistent, and setbacks – no matter how major or minor – didn't stop him from succeeding at the game he loved.
In high school, he'd had a growth spurt that put him at his full height of 6 foot 2 inches. It was during his high school years that Danny developed into an outstanding athlete in both basketball and soccer. He once scored six soccer goals in a single game.
Danny continued to play in soccer and basketball leagues as he entered adulthood. At Clark University he was an athletic superstar – playing soccer and Division III basketball. When he graduated in 1984, he was drafted by the Boston Celtics, and continued to play professional basketball in Ireland. After two years, he returned to the United States to play for the Springfield Fame in the U.S. Basketball League, helping his team win the championship. During his basketball career, Danny was twice named an All American Basketball Player.
It's true that Danny had many amazing accomplishments to his credit, but that wasn't what attracted me to him. It was his heart — he had a heart of gold. From the beginning, I knew Danny was the man I had been waiting for all my life. All the hardship, all the loneliness, all the abuse and pain and tears faded into the past, and I felt like I was entering a beautiful and loving place with Danny. It was all so new and wonderful to me. I couldn't believe it was happening to me, but once I accepted my good fortune I believed it would stretch on forever.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Overcoming Loss and Embracing Hope by Kathy Trant. Copyright © 2014 Kathy Trant. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
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