Memory

My Dad worked as a Childcare  Worker at the nearby residential school. He also worked as a full time father to make up for the father he lost at 7 years old to the Second World War.

He had memories that he hid from himself and us. Memories that came to light and were given air to breathe after his passing. Visiting with his brothers sons and his sisters daughters, they related to me stories of him they were eager to share. Stories they got from their parents, those mysterious brothers and sisters of my Dad's we never knew, until after his passing because he kept them out of his life and subsequently ours. Those brothers and sisters whom we believed were all dead...

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Rose towered over him, she was 6 years his senior, big boned and had a mean streak that ran as deep as the devil's rut down in his home of hell. She grabbed both little boys by the hair, one in each hand and dragged them screaming and kicking to shed out behind the house. It didn't matter that she was 14 years old, my Dad only 8 and his little brother was a mere 6 years old. She threw them in the shed yelling at them that she warned them to shut up and stop fighting or she would punish them.

As the door shut behind them, they sobbed lying where they landed. Don was the first to sit up, he reached over and grabbed his little brother by the hand. He didn't resist he got up and crawled over to where Don sat. He leaned into his shoulder and cried uncontrollably.

"Shh," Don soothed him and said in a furtive voice,"If we stop crying she'll come back. We have to be quiet. Look the light is coming through the cracks anyways. It's not so dark in here."  He fought down his own tears and sobs as he knew instinctively it was time he played the big brother and took control. His little brother needed him now.

Night came, and they had slept a little bit. Don woke up cold, and could hear his little brother breathing not far from him. The warmth emanating from his body was comforting, he slid closer and put his arm around his tiny waist in an effort to keep him warm as well as himself. He lay there holding his brother, hating his sister. He knew she might very well leave them overnight. She loved to torture them all. He began to wonder how his sisters fared, probably not much better under her reign while Mom was away working to keep them well fed.

He closed his eyes tight, and fell asleep again listening to the sounds of the night and praying that his little brother would sleep through the night. He didn't.

"I have to pee. I 'm cold." the tiny scared voice brought him up out of his sleep  in a hurry. He sat up and looked at his brothers eyes shining in the dark looking at him.

"Go pee in the corner and come back I'll keep you warm."

"I'm too scared it's dark." He began to cry softly.

"I'll come with you then."

In the morning, sound of the paddle lock being rattled brought them to their feet. They stood up together and faced the door. It opened slowly and there stood Rose with a homemade loaf of bread. The sunlight behind her was blinding, she was a large menacing shadow that threw  them a piece.

"Fight for it" she sneered.

Don let his little brother have it. Rose stepped in and knocked him on the side of his head with her fist. "Next time I want to see a fight or that's all you get."

The boys looked at each other, and his little brother nodded. They started circling each other, they'd danced this for her before.

"Hit him!" she screamed. This brought his sisters running to see what was going on. Little Milly started to cry,"Nooo don't fight brothers."

"Shut up you litlte bitch!" Rose screamed in her face.

Don let his little brother throw the first punch and they lunged at each other. He tried his best to wrestle his brother to the ground and not throw any punches. His little brother was kicking and swinging and pulling his hair. They rolled around on the ground and Don realized how hungry he was. He was torn between hitting his little brother and winning the fight so he can eat.

All the while they could hear Rose's screams, jeers, and maniacal, shrill laughter.

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"Dad?"

"Yea?"

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" a little girl asked her Dad.

"Yea, but they're all dead."

"Oh. But that's so sad."

"Yea it is."