Sunday, February 13, 2011
The Boiling Point
"Aaaggghhh! I hate you all! I wish you never chose me! You chose me and made my momma die! I want to go back. I miss them so much!"
"You take Harry to movie and you don't take me! You buy everyone shoes, I hate shoes, I won't have any new shoes until I am 18 and I don't care. They are idiot shoes! I hate it here! I want to go back to Africa. No one tell me I can't do this or I have to do that. You kill my mom. And I don't even remember my dad. He was my dad! Not you! And you...you are a bad momma! I hate you! Everyone hate me, no one care about me."
We all sat in stunned silence.
Isabel started crying.
"I don't care about you, Isabel! You better run because I am going to hit you!"
Isabel screams for me. George has picked up the seat belt buckle and has raised his hand to hit Isabel with it.
Joe pulls over the car. We get Isabel out of the back seat and she crawls onto my lap in the front seat.
George screams. It is like an animal. Unrecognizable.
Joe quietly says, "George. We love you..."
"No you don't! No one does!"
Joe repeats. "George, we love you. We all love you. We all hurt for you."
George continues screaming...like a seriously wounded animal.
That's it. I have to do something. I get out of the front seat and climb into the back and simply wrap my arms around my son.
"Oh, momma! I miss her so much." George starts to sob.
And then he tells me this story..."My Africa mommy love me so much. She gave me a shirt and pants. They were ripped. But they were good shirt and pants. She tried to give me clothes when I was cold. But I was still cold. She made me a good breakfast every morning." Then he stops and chokes up. "But, I never said thank you to her."
The tears are streaming down George's face and all I can do is hold him and tell him that mommas know that kind of stuff. I tell him that most kids don't tell their mommas "thank you", but we know they mean it.
"I miss her. And I miss my Africa father. But I don't remember what he looks like anymore."
The pain was almost unbearable for all of us as we sat in the Suburban....stunned at what we were going through. We had just gone through an hour of extreme rage directed at us - so many hurtful words came pouring out of George's mouth that we just didn't even know what to say. He attacked everyone in the car verbally, intentionally trying to wound us all. And then, we all heard his heart breaking as he got to the core of it all.
If we try to walk in his shoes for a minute, he experienced great poverty and death. And then, one day, his mom who he loved so much just left him. And he is so, so sad about that. More sad than I could ever imagine.
George calmed down, relaxed in my arms and then said, "I want to give my mom a present. I want her to know that I know she was a good momma. Can I give her a ring? Where can I get a ring?"
We had just spent a wonderful weekend in Wisconsin Dells! We played and laughed and stayed up late. And George had moved so close to me! He held my hand on long walks. He sat on my lap for long stretches of time. There was no fighting...there really was LOVE! I thought to myself - we have really turned a corner. And then, as we were deciding on a place to eat on the way home on Sunday afternoon, George snapped.
"I don't want to eat with you."
We were pretty surprised. Where was this coming from?
We get in Denny's and George scowls at me. I ask him to come with me to the bathroom so we can talk. On the way to the bathroom, he throws himself on the floor and screams at the top of his lungs. I pick him up and get him into the bathroom where he continues screaming as if I was whipping him. I couldn't believe it.
So, I said, "We need to go to the car. You and I can eat in the car," and as soon as we get through the door, he bolts across the parking lot. Joe chases him down and eventually gets him to settle down. George joins us at the table and picks up a knife (thankfully a butter one!) and starts to try to cut himself. I lose it, crying. What is going on? We just had such a nice weekend!
We all decide to just get through lunch.
Joe takes George to the car while the rest of us use the restroom and finish up. Apparently, during that car time, George let loose with a vicious diatribe. When I got to the car. Joe is visibly shaken. And we pray.
Lord, help us! We have no idea what is going on! You have to help us....
And that is when the screaming began and the terror shook us all.
We still don't know why today George mourned, and I mean truly mourned his losses. But something triggered this emotional release. I have never heard him cry like this. And I have never felt so much heart ache FOR HIM. Thank God, I didn't make this about me. Thank God, for the past few weeks of searching for help and for answers which led me to think that maybe all this rage is really covering up great hurt. Thank God my heart broke for George. Thank God for Joe who knew to stop the car and simply tell his son how much he loved him...no matter what was said.
As I write this, about three hours after this amazing episode, George and Lincoln are crawling around the house pushing police cars and fire trucks, playing happily. As soon as we exited the car, George ran to Isabel to hugged her and said he was sorry. And he has come to Joe and I several times with huge hugs and heartfelt apologies.
Joe and I have begun talking about how important it is for George to really mourn his parents. We are talking about a church service - or a time where we gather all the people who are important to George and celebrate his birth parents, and also mourn their passing away. I don't know...there isn't much "out there" from other parents in our situation. But we know that George needs a way to say goodbye...and to say thank you to his momma.
Posted by Traci Weldie at 2:17 PM