April 24, 2020, Friday
I have a repeat dream the last 2 nights, but the first night I couldn’t remember what it was about once I woke. Last night the dream repeated itself twice, but although I remember fragments, most of the information is lost.
It was like a Disney movie. One of the characters was in reality a reincarnation of someone, or maybe the spirit of that person entered a different body. I’m still not clear about why this happened. It seems the capability of a spirit of one person entering or being in the body of another is what is important.
It was the eyes that grabbed my attention, which a connection to that of someone long passed. So perhaps the rest of the dream was basically insignificant. Recognizing the eyes of a person made me think this is what I have to respond to – the eyes of my father. I know this is true, this is why I believe my dreams about him, it was his eyes when I saw them telling me who he was. When I at last saw a photo of him so many years after the dreams came, this was how the connection was made to the reality of who he was. This was what made him real to me, seeing his eyes, then hearing his voice.
I was thinking this morning about the importance of my mother’s insistence I survive despite the cost. Certain, had it not been for her influence, they would have killed me once they had my father, once he had been executed. It makes no sense for them to have spared my life, an idea which kept me puzzled for many years as I tried to understand this complex story of mine. The only explanation making sense back then, as well as now, was my mothers influence in the situation. I have often thought it would have been more of a kindness for my life to have ended. I see now, the reasons for her belief my life should be spared. One day I would have the courage to face what happened and why, behind her reasons. To be able one day to claim my birthright and tell my story at a time when what happened to my father was a distant memory.
There is good logic to her reasoning of course, but still I wonder if my voice could matter to anyone. Without proof, there is little doubt in my mind the story written about my life will have little if any impact. I convinced myself proof was was not necessary as I wrote my book, but seeing my joyful self as a child the other night has changed everything for me. The best way for me to help change the world I see around me, is to prove my existence.
They eliminated me, they nearly destroyed my spirit. There is power in reclaiming the life they stole from me. Remaining anonymous feeds their power. I cannot fully realize the importance of who I am unless I can prove it to be true. This is not something I wanted to face!
It is in the eyes, the joy, our love, our zest for life. It is reflected in our eyes. The sparkle in my eyes as a child seemed to light my whole being. Therein lies the beauty of a person, any person. It was this light they stole, so it follows, by proving I exist, the light can return. Perhaps it already has just by coming to South America. Is this what people see when they come up to me and shake my hand on the busy streets of Otavalo or on the bus? Is this why a complete stranger will hold my face in her hands as she kisses me on the forehead, then walk on? I do belief there is truth in this.
When I told Miguel’s friend I was happy now, she said “no, you are not happy yet , but you are closer”. The things she said at the time made me feel defeated, especially when she said I still had much work to do. These were the words of Grama Grizzly 20 years ago, so I began to wonder if I would ever make it to the other side of this situation. Her belief my story would fall on deaf ears if I didn’t have proof, was the most difficult aspect of our conversation for me to accept. I am now sitting here accepting the truth of her words. Thoughts of my mother’s choice to keep me alive combined with the memory of my fathers eyes in the dreams the last few days, have made the difference. In order to reconcile with the past, first I must accept the truth of her words.
From my dreams, I understand there are items saved for me. I was anxious to retrieve these items well before I realized who left them for me. By that I mean before understanding the complications of who it made me because of who left the items.
Worldwide there are many, many people who have been confronted with the unexpected knowledge of their life being a lie. There are many reasons for this to happen, and commonly, I believe, we are told it is for our protection, for our own good. Why is it secrets are kept for our protection? Should we not be the judge of what we need protection from? Assuming we do not have the strength to deal with the truth is a judgement others have no right to decide.
Years ago I watched the historical movie Oranges & Sunshine. It was a story dealing with the thousands of British children, many who were orphans taken by social workers and packed onto ships bound for Australia. The were promised oranges and sunshine, but this was not the case as so many suffered the abuse of workhouse situations.
This movie is the story of a woman who tried to help the survivors. There was the one character I identified with very strongly, simply because of one thing he said which described exactly what I have felt, but could not put into words so succinctly. At the time I had yet to understand so much about my past, myself. I don’t remember his exact words, but he described being left with a hole in his heart that could just never be filled. The way he said it , the emotion he carried on the words fit me like a glove. This is the moment, I believe when I knew I had been brought to Canada under similar circumstances, although at the time there was much more I needed to learn.
These are real situations, which most of us are unaware of, have difficulty comprehending. How does one accept this level of cruelty, especially towards children?
In my situation, I had everything, I was not an orphan, I was well cared for, loved and happy. There were no gaps needing to be filled. Yes, perhaps my situation was complicated, the full impact of which I would learn to appreciate in the years to come. But at the age of 2 or 3 years, I was not concerned with such difficulties.
To be born to 2 such unique and dynamic individuals who were also so polarized politically and geographically, still amazes me. But it is wrong to think it cannot be possible, just because it seems unlikely. No, I have not wanted to prove the reality of my life, this only makes it that much more difficult to face. The torture, rape and displacement of such a young girl a sickening prospect. By not proving it, I can still remain partially hidden behind the facade of the life I thought had been mine.
Perhaps to some it is an easy decision to do what is necessary to prove who I am….or not. But both sides of my family are still as polarized as my parents were, each connected to government. The chances they will be happy to learn of my existence, not great. There is no easy answer, but my mother seemed to believe there was purpose for my life, her need to protect my life greater than my need to keep it. My fathers spirit also never leaving me, seems to confirm he wishes the story to be realized, even if just to me. I must understand the importance of their wishes.
Although I spent more time with my mother, and she obviously did a great deal for my continued welfare, it is and always has been my father who I connect with. It was his spirit, not hers, which has kept me going, kept me trying. In life he could not acknowledge me, nor could my mother. Is it possible for the truth to come out now? Can there be acceptance for me? Is there room in the world for me, for my story today?