Matthew’s Journal
December 17th, 2012
I’m finally able to write. It’s been a few days, but I don’t know what to do. The car...it crashed. Amanda’s dead. If I hadn’t sat in the back with Elizabeth, I would be dead, too. The car was folded like some sort of sick accordion when I was dragged out. The shrapnel reaching towards the cloudy sky like the quills of a frightened porcupine. All this happened while I was sleeping, and I never shall face such a harsh awakening again. I had slowly awoken to the screams of Elizabeth, who was hitting me with her small hands and trying to shake me back to consciousness. She shrieked, and I looked up in shock to see Amanda’s body limp and contorted. I tried to reach for her, but was met with an excruciating pain, searing through my arm. She lay just a few inches from my extended fingers. I could not. My left arm was crushed between folds of hot metal. By now, I was overflowing with desperation. I struggled to free my arm, but was met with the same failure and agony.
I was told that we were driving on a narrow mountain pass. A car came racing up behind us and there was no way to turn. The front was smashed. Amanda died from the wounds this morning. Luckily, Lizzy is okay with just a minor concussion, but my left arm was crushed. I’m an artist...and now I’ve lost my writing hand. My mind is in a haze and I’m not sure what to do.
December 19th, 2012
I had to tell Lizzy that her mother won’t be coming home. Despite the crash, she seemed so cheery up until now. She was certain that Amanda would be coming home, and was eagerly waiting to welcome her back. I can’t forget the way her gap toothed grin slowly faded from her expression when I told her. She wouldn’t even look me in the eye. All she could do was stare off into the distance. She wrapped herself around my leg, tears seeping through my jeans. I crouched down to hug her and kissed her forehead. We rented a taxi back to the apartment. The duration of the trip seeming to grow longer and longer as the price took its toll. The taxi took a route along the soup kitchen where ragged and anxious people lined the street and watched as cars passed by. Panhandlers were at every corner on the way. At the border of this solemn area, our apartment building stood, tall and a dreary gray. I stepped out, feeling the crunching under my feet. I took out my wallet to pay the driver, but clumsily dropped it into the snow. Lizzy picked it up. I kept trying and failing, until I was nearly in tears from frustration. The driver seemed equally upset with me as I was with myself. I asked Elizabeth to take out twenty dollars and give it to the driver, who was furrowing his brows so low that he might only see out of half his eye. He snatched the money from her, and she returned to me with an empty wallet.
“That guy wasn’t being very nice,” she said pouting her lip.
“He was just trying to get to another customer. He has to make a living, too, Lizzy,” I responded.
“Yeah, but being nice is worth more than a few dollars.”
I smiled at her. “You’re absolutely right. ” I told her. ‘You have a beautiful heart. It must be made of gold like your mother’s.” She looked up at me with a brow furrowed in confusion.
“But my heart can’t be made of gold. It would be too heavy.” She muttered.
I thought about what she said. A heart burdened with empathy is indeed a heavy load to carry.
December 20th, 2012
My first attempt at contact with anyone was awful. He still hasn’t responded. I didn’t want to talk, so this made matters worse. I feel anxious. I fear contact, because it makes me sound shallow. I had to talk about Amanda as if I was only interested in the money she made. It was obviously not what mattered most, but still, I knew that I would have to downsize. I knew I would soon be in need, but I worried that everyone would treat me as if I were selfish and greedy. I began a struggle I had never faced. It didn’t really bother me until the weeks progressed. The hospital bills drained the last remaining paychecks that I and Amanda had gotten. It was exceptionally painful. I had to lose my time, my lifestyle, for having unjustly lost what I loved most. I would be fine, if I only had to afford my own care, but Elizabeth needs care, too. I feel so stupid. I couldn’t afford insurance and only had a couple hundred dollars in savings.
I was the only of three siblings to go to college, and my parents were thrilled that any of us could. Amanda’s parents never liked me. I don’t even think that they like Lizzy that much. They’re strict Catholics and think I’m a bad influence with my “immoral and atheist beliefs”. I sincerely worry that they’ll try to take Lizzy, since she isn’t actually my daughter. In fact, Amanda had Liz when she was really young. You’d assume that they’d be proud of her for keeping the child, but they shunned her either way. They outcast Amanda, and then wonder why Amanda never came to them for help. Seeing as my family is too poor and Amanda’s hates my guts, I have no one to fall back on without causing them distress. It’s better that I don’t burden anyone. In addition, I have no transportation if I did plan to stay with anyone, since my car is destroyed.
December 21st, 2012
The utilities bill came today. It’s winter, so the expense has soared. I might be able to make it through New Year’s if I can avoid the expense of utilities. I keep Lizzy swathed in blankets and jackets while I try to keep myself from shivering. Since I can’t make much a use of my art supplies, I let Lizzy use them freely. She enjoys drawing pictures of us before the crash, and of her and Amanda catching butterflies during the summer. I watch as she paints with messy brush strokes and presses pencils so hard against the paper that I thought it would rip. I’ve restricted her to watercolors after a couple incidents of stained carpets, and walls, and clothing, and ceilings. Well, a lot of things.
December 22nd, 2012
During lunch Lizzy finally must have gotten cabin fever. She sat kicking her legs and beating the table with the soft palms of her small hands.“I want to go sledding,” Liz told me with a big smile. “Pleeeeeease.”
“Not if you beg,” I told her. Truth is, I didn’t want to go. I hated people bothering me about my arm and the lacerations on my face and body from the crash. Plus, I felt sad all the time. All I wanted to do was sleep the day away. I suppose Elizabeth’s presence is a blessing for me. She gives me a sense of responsibility, which helps me to get up every morning and to eat regular meals. A ray of brilliant sunshine in my life that has become nothing but stormy day after stormy day.
“It think you need to go sledding. You’ll be more happy.” She told me.
“It’s happier.” I said, bitterly. “Not more happy. Do you really think I can do that with my arm broken like this?” I demanded. “Do you think that’s realistic?”
She laid her head down on her folded arms, and her wavy blond hair hid her face entirely. I felt guilty and was frustrated with myself for taking my stress out on her. I brushed her off of her face. She turned her head away from me. “Liz, I’m sorry for being so harsh. I’m just feeling really awful, and I have a lot going on right now.” I told her. She took a long while to respond.
“But you don’t seem like you’re doing much.” She said.
I bit back my irritation, and took a few deep breaths like I was always taught to. “It’s not always what you can see that matters. A lot of people have problems that seem invisible, until you really look up close.” I informed her. “Hey, I might not be able to go sledding, but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be able to.”
December 23rd, 2012
Well, I got a few of the neighbors to watch Liz while I went shopping for a sled for Christmas. I had already handmade her the majority of a stuffed dragon before the ski trip. Finally I’ve been able to sew its eyes on with a moderate level of frustration, but I’m proud of it, and I really think she’ll like it.
I walked around town for a while, noting how long it takes without a car or bike. I eventually arrived at a suitable store, and asked for a sled. Some were a solid $50, but no one else seemed bothered by the cost. I settled on a saucer for $20. I wanted it to be something that would last. It was purple and glittery, perfect for Lizzy.
I was able to buy a nice dinner for Christmas Eve and some of Lizzy’s friends invited us over, so I made sure to have some cookies to offer them, too.
December 24th, 2012
Lizzy is almost literally bouncing off the walls. She’s dressed in fleecy clothing and her bright blond pigtails are as bouncy as she is. She has the same warm brown eyes as my dear Amanda did. It still breaks my heart to think about her. My wife, I thought she had beaten the odds. She dropped out of school for a couple years to take care of Lizzy, but she went back to get her diploma with straight As. She got herself a scholarship to make up for her parents’ lack of support, and went to college. And yet, one event and all of her efforts are gone. She’s gone.
Lizzy looked through my journal today, and enjoyed looking at all of my old pictures, before I damaged my hand. She’s been drawing and coloring feverishly, but she won’t let me see them yet. She says it’s a surprise. In fact, everytime I walk past her room, she has to emphasize that I’m “not supposed to ruin surprises since it’s not nice.”
December 25th, 2012
I was surprised to have woken up before Elizabeth but I shouldn’t be. I mean, she is a seven year old child and it’s Christmas. Still, she seemed oddly patient. I noticed that my journal was missing from the table, but I shrugged it off. I assumed that I had misplaced it the night before. As I walked in, Liz eagerly sat in front of the pile of presents. I quickly joined her.
“There’s one for you!” She said, wrapping her arms around my neck. I was a little confused. She had no time to get presents, and certainly no one would have brought me one.
“Why don’t you open yours first.” I said and I handed her one of three boxes of stuffed animals, starting with the dragon. She had a wide grin as she tore open the packaging and clutched the toy to her chest.
“It’s a dragon!” she said, twirling around. “RAWR!” She shouted as she pretended to fly it over my head. She proceeded to open the other boxes, and was still enthused, but nothing was better than the dragon.
“Have you checked under your bed?” I asked. She shook her head. “We don’t have a chimney or tree, so Santa has to leave it there, so the surprise isn’t ruined. He knows how you like surprises.” She laughed and trotted off to her bedroom to look. Meanwhile, I noticed a small bundle of clothing -- no something wrapped in a blanket. I checked to see what it is, only to find my journal, stuffed with papers that had never been there before. I opened it to reveal a misspelled and crudely written note with a drawing on the bottom. I won’t copy it word for word, but I’ll keep it in this notebook. It explained how I drew such “nice” pictures, but she was sad that I couldn’t draw, so she drew pictures for me.
I choked up, as I looked through the journal. It was the first time since the accident that I had cried. It triggered all the events leading up until then. I wasn’t even aware of Elizabeth coming up behind me. “You’re going to ruin the water colors if you cry on it.” She said matter-of-factly. I gave her an awkward side hug with my good arm and she hugged me back.
Then she said, “so are you going to take me sledding?”
December 27th, 2012
I had to explain to my boss that I wouldn’t be able to finish any work for a while, and I must say that I’m impressed with his ability to sugarcoat “you’re fired until you can draw again.” I tried to take it with a level head, and later talked with the landlord about downsizing and why I had to.
“It’s funny,” he said. “I just had another request for downsizing from another family upstairs. Maybe you would share with them? It would be half the cost.”
“I don’t know them,” I said sternly. “and I have a seven year old daughter.”
“Well,” he said softly, “if you take that route, you’ll be on the street or at another place within a month. I doubt you’ll get vouchers in time,. The weather’s cold, and the crime rate on the streets is nothing to mess with. I wouldn’t risk it, but it’s up to you. I’m trying to help. Plus, it’s a single mother and her son. It won’t kill you.”
January 2nd, 2013
So, the other family moved in. A “single” mother and her 11 year old son. He told me single, because her husband was convicted of a crime a few months back. I can see that the landlord made sure to leave that out. All the time, she goes on about how it was her fault that he left. That, and her son seem to idolize his father, which bothers me even more. She never really talks to me. She always seems distracted, which makes her awfully difficult. Her son is very rough. He never listens and continuously breaks things for amusement. I knew it was a bad idea, but I didn’t feel as though I really had a choice.
January 14th, 2013
Things had been going fine, until Troy, the dastardly child that moved in, ripped the head off of the dragon toy I made, with the sole purpose of hurting Elizabeth’s feelings. He was grabbing another, when she grabbed it. He pushed her off, so she bit him, when he wouldn’t let go. This was something Liz would never have done on her own. It obviously had been building up for a long time. Troy hit her in the face, giving her a black eye, which to me was unbearable. I had fought the urge for a long time, but I finally grabbed him by the wrist, to which he seemed oddly amused. I dragged him by the wrist in front of his horrified mother.
His mother never reprimanded him. Not once. Not a single time, and he made a doormat of her.
January 16th, 2013
I can’t decide which is better for Elizabeth. Staying here and doubling up, or going elsewhere. The problem is that I don’t know any other place to go. My computer’s still broken. I haven’t had the money to fix it. I’ve decided that I’m going to have to take up another job. I can’t just let myself waste away. I’ve found a job as a cashier at a nearby clothing outlet. It’s the only job I can do with this injury. I have to leave Liz at aftercare for an hour after school, but it’s worth the expense. She’s also only at home when I’m with her, too. They restrict me to 30 hours a week, so I can’t receive any benefits, and I’ve finally had to use vouchers of all kinds, which always make me feel embarrassed. That being said, I’d rather be embarrassed than suffer. Food banks have given me some fresh produce that I couldn’t easily afford on food stamps, so I’ve been able to adequately nourish Liz.
That reminds me. Her maternal grandparents finally called, and keep bothering me about “what are you going to do with the child?” Every time, I have to assure them that it’s fine, and I’m working. They never like my responses, because they seemingly want to take Lizzy. Amanda would have wanted me to care for Elizabeth, so I will, regardless of what they think. I can’t believe that they haven’t called me until now. I think they care more about how much they disapprove of me than they did about Amanda. They seldom called her, and now they expect me to just give Liz over. I will not.
I was married to Amanda, and have every right to care for Elizabeth, even it kills me. She keeps me going and I refuse to give her up, for I fear she won’t come back.
January 20th, 2013
To tell the truth, I don’t think that it’s any good for Lizzy and I to stay here. Troy and his mother devour my hard earned food and seldom contribute. Some of the rooms in the apartment were robbed today, though we were lucky. I don’t think that we should stay here. The neighborhood is getting progressively worse as time goes on.
To top it off, the store I worked at closed, and most don’t want a temporary worker. Also, the family I’m staying with is behind on their rent, due to what I assume to be addiction from her countless containers of alcohol. I knew it was going downhill. I had to weigh my options. I had Liz hang out at our friend’s room upstairs, while I went to the library to research different choices of housing.
Well, it seems as though there are no cheaper alternatives in any reasonable neighborhoods, and I missed the slot for affordable housing as only opens every September. that’s ten months. It’s not a viable option for me right now. I absolutely refuse to be in the middle of Five Points, or an equally awful neighborhood. Programs for affordable housing have extensive waiting lists, and most shelters won’t let me and Liz stay together. It’s hectic for a single father. I can’t decide if I feel better or worse about the situation now, knowing my options. I called a few programs about housing, even temporarily, but have only been stuck on waiting list after waiting list. I’ve found programs in Colorado Springs, but I really don’t want to move so far away or give up work for so long. Some of those programs, like Partners in Housing and Habitat for Humanity, seem appealing, but the waiting list and travel is a nightmare.
I would make enough for rent if she paid her share. I felt very reluctant, but called Elizabeth’s grandparents. It killed me, but I asked if they would take Lizzy or I until I could heal and return to work. I told them that they would need to drive me, as they lived in the suburbs (I couldn’t afford a taxi that far). I’d rather not see Elizabeth miss school or be scared, for my own selfish desire to keep her with me. I have to come to terms with it, and do what’s best for her. I know it’s best, I just wish that I could convince my that heart it is.
January 30th, 2013
They came today and told me that I couldn’t stay with them. It was hard being honest with them about the situation, but they already known about my injuries and loss of job. They were actually surprised by my resilience and effort towards working, which they said they didn’t expect of me. How pleasant. I told them about the apartment scenario and how Amanda really helped me to afford it. Then with tears streaming down my face, I helped them to pack Lizzy’s belongings into their car.
“How long will it be until I see you?” Liz asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, my voice trembling. “but I hope as soon as possible.” She stepped into the car, and I bit my lip. I knew it might be a very long time.
February 10th, 2013
It’s so lonely without her. If I hadn’t lived beyond my means, none of this would have happened. Now, I’ll have nothing. I finally decided to save the little money I had left, a measly couple hundred in all, and I’ve left the apartment. I feel incredibly ashamed. I try to convince myself that it’s not my fault. I wander aimlessly during the day and struggle to sleep at night. I remember packing my things in an old hiking backpack, and how I couldn’t stop gazing back. I already missed what I had, and I miss it more with every day. Those other two staying with me, they’ll fall to the same fate. My downfall is theirs, they’ll have no housing either, but they couldn’t pay their share anyway. I traveled from shelter to shelter, trying to find one that would take me. It’s hard. Fights break out, and the weather’s bad enough on its own. Someone stole my jacket, so I had to use most of my remaining money to survive the freezing temperatures. I thought I was lost back when I started this journal, but I’m truly lost now. It’s hard to write with cold hands. It was bad enough with my right hand. I think I’ll have to give it up for some time. It doesn’t matter, as if anything really does right now. It just reminds me of what I lost. It’s no longer a relief, a solace, but a trigger, and I’d rather not look upon it again.
I found this old journal today. I had forgotten about it, but not about my experience. It’s been a year or so since then, but I had never felt like sorting through my old backpack until today. Unpacking the belongings would be unpacking the memories as well. I wasn’t ready until today, but Liz asked about that event when she was seven. I’ll finish this on a good note, because it must be completed. Every story needs its ending, and I’m exalted to say that mine has a good one. I got a better job than before due to an opening. Once my hand had recovered, I practiced using it for a few weeks and was able to do more than get my job back. I had a better one. I was able to have Liz move back in with me in a new and better apartment. It turns out that Liz’s grandparents realized how much she missed me, and only disliked me out of assumption, but they really admired what I went through to care for Elizabeth and how much I cared for Amanda. Our relationship was finally positive and we were able to work together. Last year, I thought my life would never get better, but it did, and I’m determined to make a difference for others like me. Please, if you ever read this, remember that it gets better. If you give up now, you’ll never find your happy ending.
December 17th, 2012
I’m finally able to write. It’s been a few days, but I don’t know what to do. The car...it crashed. Amanda’s dead. If I hadn’t sat in the back with Elizabeth, I would be dead, too. The car was folded like some sort of sick accordion when I was dragged out. The shrapnel reaching towards the cloudy sky like the quills of a frightened porcupine. All this happened while I was sleeping, and I never shall face such a harsh awakening again. I had slowly awoken to the screams of Elizabeth, who was hitting me with her small hands and trying to shake me back to consciousness. She shrieked, and I looked up in shock to see Amanda’s body limp and contorted. I tried to reach for her, but was met with an excruciating pain, searing through my arm. She lay just a few inches from my extended fingers. I could not. My left arm was crushed between folds of hot metal. By now, I was overflowing with desperation. I struggled to free my arm, but was met with the same failure and agony.
I was told that we were driving on a narrow mountain pass. A car came racing up behind us and there was no way to turn. The front was smashed. Amanda died from the wounds this morning. Luckily, Lizzy is okay with just a minor concussion, but my left arm was crushed. I’m an artist...and now I’ve lost my writing hand. My mind is in a haze and I’m not sure what to do.
December 19th, 2012
I had to tell Lizzy that her mother won’t be coming home. Despite the crash, she seemed so cheery up until now. She was certain that Amanda would be coming home, and was eagerly waiting to welcome her back. I can’t forget the way her gap toothed grin slowly faded from her expression when I told her. She wouldn’t even look me in the eye. All she could do was stare off into the distance. She wrapped herself around my leg, tears seeping through my jeans. I crouched down to hug her and kissed her forehead. We rented a taxi back to the apartment. The duration of the trip seeming to grow longer and longer as the price took its toll. The taxi took a route along the soup kitchen where ragged and anxious people lined the street and watched as cars passed by. Panhandlers were at every corner on the way. At the border of this solemn area, our apartment building stood, tall and a dreary gray. I stepped out, feeling the crunching under my feet. I took out my wallet to pay the driver, but clumsily dropped it into the snow. Lizzy picked it up. I kept trying and failing, until I was nearly in tears from frustration. The driver seemed equally upset with me as I was with myself. I asked Elizabeth to take out twenty dollars and give it to the driver, who was furrowing his brows so low that he might only see out of half his eye. He snatched the money from her, and she returned to me with an empty wallet.
“That guy wasn’t being very nice,” she said pouting her lip.
“He was just trying to get to another customer. He has to make a living, too, Lizzy,” I responded.
“Yeah, but being nice is worth more than a few dollars.”
I smiled at her. “You’re absolutely right. ” I told her. ‘You have a beautiful heart. It must be made of gold like your mother’s.” She looked up at me with a brow furrowed in confusion.
“But my heart can’t be made of gold. It would be too heavy.” She muttered.
I thought about what she said. A heart burdened with empathy is indeed a heavy load to carry.
December 20th, 2012
My first attempt at contact with anyone was awful. He still hasn’t responded. I didn’t want to talk, so this made matters worse. I feel anxious. I fear contact, because it makes me sound shallow. I had to talk about Amanda as if I was only interested in the money she made. It was obviously not what mattered most, but still, I knew that I would have to downsize. I knew I would soon be in need, but I worried that everyone would treat me as if I were selfish and greedy. I began a struggle I had never faced. It didn’t really bother me until the weeks progressed. The hospital bills drained the last remaining paychecks that I and Amanda had gotten. It was exceptionally painful. I had to lose my time, my lifestyle, for having unjustly lost what I loved most. I would be fine, if I only had to afford my own care, but Elizabeth needs care, too. I feel so stupid. I couldn’t afford insurance and only had a couple hundred dollars in savings.
I was the only of three siblings to go to college, and my parents were thrilled that any of us could. Amanda’s parents never liked me. I don’t even think that they like Lizzy that much. They’re strict Catholics and think I’m a bad influence with my “immoral and atheist beliefs”. I sincerely worry that they’ll try to take Lizzy, since she isn’t actually my daughter. In fact, Amanda had Liz when she was really young. You’d assume that they’d be proud of her for keeping the child, but they shunned her either way. They outcast Amanda, and then wonder why Amanda never came to them for help. Seeing as my family is too poor and Amanda’s hates my guts, I have no one to fall back on without causing them distress. It’s better that I don’t burden anyone. In addition, I have no transportation if I did plan to stay with anyone, since my car is destroyed.
December 21st, 2012
The utilities bill came today. It’s winter, so the expense has soared. I might be able to make it through New Year’s if I can avoid the expense of utilities. I keep Lizzy swathed in blankets and jackets while I try to keep myself from shivering. Since I can’t make much a use of my art supplies, I let Lizzy use them freely. She enjoys drawing pictures of us before the crash, and of her and Amanda catching butterflies during the summer. I watch as she paints with messy brush strokes and presses pencils so hard against the paper that I thought it would rip. I’ve restricted her to watercolors after a couple incidents of stained carpets, and walls, and clothing, and ceilings. Well, a lot of things.
December 22nd, 2012
During lunch Lizzy finally must have gotten cabin fever. She sat kicking her legs and beating the table with the soft palms of her small hands.“I want to go sledding,” Liz told me with a big smile. “Pleeeeeease.”
“Not if you beg,” I told her. Truth is, I didn’t want to go. I hated people bothering me about my arm and the lacerations on my face and body from the crash. Plus, I felt sad all the time. All I wanted to do was sleep the day away. I suppose Elizabeth’s presence is a blessing for me. She gives me a sense of responsibility, which helps me to get up every morning and to eat regular meals. A ray of brilliant sunshine in my life that has become nothing but stormy day after stormy day.
“It think you need to go sledding. You’ll be more happy.” She told me.
“It’s happier.” I said, bitterly. “Not more happy. Do you really think I can do that with my arm broken like this?” I demanded. “Do you think that’s realistic?”
She laid her head down on her folded arms, and her wavy blond hair hid her face entirely. I felt guilty and was frustrated with myself for taking my stress out on her. I brushed her off of her face. She turned her head away from me. “Liz, I’m sorry for being so harsh. I’m just feeling really awful, and I have a lot going on right now.” I told her. She took a long while to respond.
“But you don’t seem like you’re doing much.” She said.
I bit back my irritation, and took a few deep breaths like I was always taught to. “It’s not always what you can see that matters. A lot of people have problems that seem invisible, until you really look up close.” I informed her. “Hey, I might not be able to go sledding, but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be able to.”
December 23rd, 2012
Well, I got a few of the neighbors to watch Liz while I went shopping for a sled for Christmas. I had already handmade her the majority of a stuffed dragon before the ski trip. Finally I’ve been able to sew its eyes on with a moderate level of frustration, but I’m proud of it, and I really think she’ll like it.
I walked around town for a while, noting how long it takes without a car or bike. I eventually arrived at a suitable store, and asked for a sled. Some were a solid $50, but no one else seemed bothered by the cost. I settled on a saucer for $20. I wanted it to be something that would last. It was purple and glittery, perfect for Lizzy.
I was able to buy a nice dinner for Christmas Eve and some of Lizzy’s friends invited us over, so I made sure to have some cookies to offer them, too.
December 24th, 2012
Lizzy is almost literally bouncing off the walls. She’s dressed in fleecy clothing and her bright blond pigtails are as bouncy as she is. She has the same warm brown eyes as my dear Amanda did. It still breaks my heart to think about her. My wife, I thought she had beaten the odds. She dropped out of school for a couple years to take care of Lizzy, but she went back to get her diploma with straight As. She got herself a scholarship to make up for her parents’ lack of support, and went to college. And yet, one event and all of her efforts are gone. She’s gone.
Lizzy looked through my journal today, and enjoyed looking at all of my old pictures, before I damaged my hand. She’s been drawing and coloring feverishly, but she won’t let me see them yet. She says it’s a surprise. In fact, everytime I walk past her room, she has to emphasize that I’m “not supposed to ruin surprises since it’s not nice.”
December 25th, 2012
I was surprised to have woken up before Elizabeth but I shouldn’t be. I mean, she is a seven year old child and it’s Christmas. Still, she seemed oddly patient. I noticed that my journal was missing from the table, but I shrugged it off. I assumed that I had misplaced it the night before. As I walked in, Liz eagerly sat in front of the pile of presents. I quickly joined her.
“There’s one for you!” She said, wrapping her arms around my neck. I was a little confused. She had no time to get presents, and certainly no one would have brought me one.
“Why don’t you open yours first.” I said and I handed her one of three boxes of stuffed animals, starting with the dragon. She had a wide grin as she tore open the packaging and clutched the toy to her chest.
“It’s a dragon!” she said, twirling around. “RAWR!” She shouted as she pretended to fly it over my head. She proceeded to open the other boxes, and was still enthused, but nothing was better than the dragon.
“Have you checked under your bed?” I asked. She shook her head. “We don’t have a chimney or tree, so Santa has to leave it there, so the surprise isn’t ruined. He knows how you like surprises.” She laughed and trotted off to her bedroom to look. Meanwhile, I noticed a small bundle of clothing -- no something wrapped in a blanket. I checked to see what it is, only to find my journal, stuffed with papers that had never been there before. I opened it to reveal a misspelled and crudely written note with a drawing on the bottom. I won’t copy it word for word, but I’ll keep it in this notebook. It explained how I drew such “nice” pictures, but she was sad that I couldn’t draw, so she drew pictures for me.
I choked up, as I looked through the journal. It was the first time since the accident that I had cried. It triggered all the events leading up until then. I wasn’t even aware of Elizabeth coming up behind me. “You’re going to ruin the water colors if you cry on it.” She said matter-of-factly. I gave her an awkward side hug with my good arm and she hugged me back.
Then she said, “so are you going to take me sledding?”
December 27th, 2012
I had to explain to my boss that I wouldn’t be able to finish any work for a while, and I must say that I’m impressed with his ability to sugarcoat “you’re fired until you can draw again.” I tried to take it with a level head, and later talked with the landlord about downsizing and why I had to.
“It’s funny,” he said. “I just had another request for downsizing from another family upstairs. Maybe you would share with them? It would be half the cost.”
“I don’t know them,” I said sternly. “and I have a seven year old daughter.”
“Well,” he said softly, “if you take that route, you’ll be on the street or at another place within a month. I doubt you’ll get vouchers in time,. The weather’s cold, and the crime rate on the streets is nothing to mess with. I wouldn’t risk it, but it’s up to you. I’m trying to help. Plus, it’s a single mother and her son. It won’t kill you.”
January 2nd, 2013
So, the other family moved in. A “single” mother and her 11 year old son. He told me single, because her husband was convicted of a crime a few months back. I can see that the landlord made sure to leave that out. All the time, she goes on about how it was her fault that he left. That, and her son seem to idolize his father, which bothers me even more. She never really talks to me. She always seems distracted, which makes her awfully difficult. Her son is very rough. He never listens and continuously breaks things for amusement. I knew it was a bad idea, but I didn’t feel as though I really had a choice.
January 14th, 2013
Things had been going fine, until Troy, the dastardly child that moved in, ripped the head off of the dragon toy I made, with the sole purpose of hurting Elizabeth’s feelings. He was grabbing another, when she grabbed it. He pushed her off, so she bit him, when he wouldn’t let go. This was something Liz would never have done on her own. It obviously had been building up for a long time. Troy hit her in the face, giving her a black eye, which to me was unbearable. I had fought the urge for a long time, but I finally grabbed him by the wrist, to which he seemed oddly amused. I dragged him by the wrist in front of his horrified mother.
His mother never reprimanded him. Not once. Not a single time, and he made a doormat of her.
January 16th, 2013
I can’t decide which is better for Elizabeth. Staying here and doubling up, or going elsewhere. The problem is that I don’t know any other place to go. My computer’s still broken. I haven’t had the money to fix it. I’ve decided that I’m going to have to take up another job. I can’t just let myself waste away. I’ve found a job as a cashier at a nearby clothing outlet. It’s the only job I can do with this injury. I have to leave Liz at aftercare for an hour after school, but it’s worth the expense. She’s also only at home when I’m with her, too. They restrict me to 30 hours a week, so I can’t receive any benefits, and I’ve finally had to use vouchers of all kinds, which always make me feel embarrassed. That being said, I’d rather be embarrassed than suffer. Food banks have given me some fresh produce that I couldn’t easily afford on food stamps, so I’ve been able to adequately nourish Liz.
That reminds me. Her maternal grandparents finally called, and keep bothering me about “what are you going to do with the child?” Every time, I have to assure them that it’s fine, and I’m working. They never like my responses, because they seemingly want to take Lizzy. Amanda would have wanted me to care for Elizabeth, so I will, regardless of what they think. I can’t believe that they haven’t called me until now. I think they care more about how much they disapprove of me than they did about Amanda. They seldom called her, and now they expect me to just give Liz over. I will not.
I was married to Amanda, and have every right to care for Elizabeth, even it kills me. She keeps me going and I refuse to give her up, for I fear she won’t come back.
January 20th, 2013
To tell the truth, I don’t think that it’s any good for Lizzy and I to stay here. Troy and his mother devour my hard earned food and seldom contribute. Some of the rooms in the apartment were robbed today, though we were lucky. I don’t think that we should stay here. The neighborhood is getting progressively worse as time goes on.
To top it off, the store I worked at closed, and most don’t want a temporary worker. Also, the family I’m staying with is behind on their rent, due to what I assume to be addiction from her countless containers of alcohol. I knew it was going downhill. I had to weigh my options. I had Liz hang out at our friend’s room upstairs, while I went to the library to research different choices of housing.
Well, it seems as though there are no cheaper alternatives in any reasonable neighborhoods, and I missed the slot for affordable housing as only opens every September. that’s ten months. It’s not a viable option for me right now. I absolutely refuse to be in the middle of Five Points, or an equally awful neighborhood. Programs for affordable housing have extensive waiting lists, and most shelters won’t let me and Liz stay together. It’s hectic for a single father. I can’t decide if I feel better or worse about the situation now, knowing my options. I called a few programs about housing, even temporarily, but have only been stuck on waiting list after waiting list. I’ve found programs in Colorado Springs, but I really don’t want to move so far away or give up work for so long. Some of those programs, like Partners in Housing and Habitat for Humanity, seem appealing, but the waiting list and travel is a nightmare.
I would make enough for rent if she paid her share. I felt very reluctant, but called Elizabeth’s grandparents. It killed me, but I asked if they would take Lizzy or I until I could heal and return to work. I told them that they would need to drive me, as they lived in the suburbs (I couldn’t afford a taxi that far). I’d rather not see Elizabeth miss school or be scared, for my own selfish desire to keep her with me. I have to come to terms with it, and do what’s best for her. I know it’s best, I just wish that I could convince my that heart it is.
January 30th, 2013
They came today and told me that I couldn’t stay with them. It was hard being honest with them about the situation, but they already known about my injuries and loss of job. They were actually surprised by my resilience and effort towards working, which they said they didn’t expect of me. How pleasant. I told them about the apartment scenario and how Amanda really helped me to afford it. Then with tears streaming down my face, I helped them to pack Lizzy’s belongings into their car.
“How long will it be until I see you?” Liz asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, my voice trembling. “but I hope as soon as possible.” She stepped into the car, and I bit my lip. I knew it might be a very long time.
February 10th, 2013
It’s so lonely without her. If I hadn’t lived beyond my means, none of this would have happened. Now, I’ll have nothing. I finally decided to save the little money I had left, a measly couple hundred in all, and I’ve left the apartment. I feel incredibly ashamed. I try to convince myself that it’s not my fault. I wander aimlessly during the day and struggle to sleep at night. I remember packing my things in an old hiking backpack, and how I couldn’t stop gazing back. I already missed what I had, and I miss it more with every day. Those other two staying with me, they’ll fall to the same fate. My downfall is theirs, they’ll have no housing either, but they couldn’t pay their share anyway. I traveled from shelter to shelter, trying to find one that would take me. It’s hard. Fights break out, and the weather’s bad enough on its own. Someone stole my jacket, so I had to use most of my remaining money to survive the freezing temperatures. I thought I was lost back when I started this journal, but I’m truly lost now. It’s hard to write with cold hands. It was bad enough with my right hand. I think I’ll have to give it up for some time. It doesn’t matter, as if anything really does right now. It just reminds me of what I lost. It’s no longer a relief, a solace, but a trigger, and I’d rather not look upon it again.
I found this old journal today. I had forgotten about it, but not about my experience. It’s been a year or so since then, but I had never felt like sorting through my old backpack until today. Unpacking the belongings would be unpacking the memories as well. I wasn’t ready until today, but Liz asked about that event when she was seven. I’ll finish this on a good note, because it must be completed. Every story needs its ending, and I’m exalted to say that mine has a good one. I got a better job than before due to an opening. Once my hand had recovered, I practiced using it for a few weeks and was able to do more than get my job back. I had a better one. I was able to have Liz move back in with me in a new and better apartment. It turns out that Liz’s grandparents realized how much she missed me, and only disliked me out of assumption, but they really admired what I went through to care for Elizabeth and how much I cared for Amanda. Our relationship was finally positive and we were able to work together. Last year, I thought my life would never get better, but it did, and I’m determined to make a difference for others like me. Please, if you ever read this, remember that it gets better. If you give up now, you’ll never find your happy ending.