Where It All Began

I was born and raised in New Haven, CT. My paternal grandmother took my twin brother and I in when we were babies. I can remember my grandmother being a strong, very outspoken, no nonsense type of woman. She would give someone the shirt off her back, but she was tough as nails. She was tasked with taking care of a set of twin babies well in to her 60s and I now realize how hard that must of been for her. I can remember her sobbing sometimes as situations arose that reminded her that she had to step in and take care of other people’s responsibilities because they weren’t equipped to do the job. One thing’s for certain, I know she loved us and we loved her too.

Grandma always made sure that we stayed connected to family. We called her Ma/Mommy. That’s who she was to us. I remember her not being too fond of my mother, but, she wasn’t against her coming to visit unless there was a fresh conflict amongst them. Usually, the conflict Grandma had with my mother would have something to do with us and an unkept promise that hurt our feelings. Nonetheless, she encouraged the relationship. My father was in and out as well. Family was always around in some capacity from both sides of my family tree. Although majorly dysfunctional, this was my family.

It was tough to take care of us (my brother and I). Grandma helped raise children before us, but what was different for her this time was that she was aging. She took care of us well, we had everything we needed and we didn’t want for anything. Christmas was huge for us in our home and birthdays were a big deal too! Grandma couldn’t get around on her own, but she would make things happen. She’d get rides from friends in the neighborhood, enlist the neighborhood bums that she would always provide meals and clothing for to go shopping for her- sometimes they wouldn’t return with the items. I can assure you that she handled that, I told you she was tough! My grandmother meant the world to me! She was a heck of a disciplinarian, but even at such a young age, I understood her struggle.

Grandma sent us to the soup kitchen for food. We stood in line at the church for the government handouts that were widely used in our neighborhoods (cheese, milk, etc.). She had a tab at the corner store (Penguins), and she would try to keep the bill paid so we could go to the store and get whatever we wanted. I’m not oblivious to the times when she hadn’t paid the bill yet, but the store owner (Ms. Mary) would give us stuff anyway! We had what we needed by any means necessary! Grandma was surrounded by a village. She did the best she could with us.

As she began to age, Grandma required more care for herself. A visiting nurse was coming to the house to ensure that she was managing her medication appropriately. She was diabetic and had multiple heart attacks. My brother required daily medication as well. So, in addition to managing her own care, she needed to manage that of my brother. She would show me which medication to give him in case she would forget. Unbeknownst to me, she was fighting an internal battle that would change all of our lives.

My grandmother was battling Alzheimer’s disease. She was becoming forgetful and wasn’t remembering to give my brother his medication or take her own. Apparently, DCF (Division of Children and Families) found out about this somehow and decided to intervene. My grandmother was extremely overprotective of us twins and would not have given us up willingly, so they came up with this idea to trick her, so to speak. It was a Friday afternoon, my brother and I were about 9 years old. I remember a DCF social worker coming to our grandmother’s house and sitting on the couch explaining to my grandmother that she would like to take my brother and I for a weekend and bring us back on Sunday so that we would be able to go to school on Monday. My grandmother packed us enough clothes for a weekend. We never returned.

When this plan was carried out, I suffered a tremendous loss in more ways than one. I lost my grandmother as I knew her, and ultimately, I lost my family-the family I knew and loved. I feel like my life was interrupted and of course there was absolutely nothing I could do about that as a child. Everyone’s ideas of what was best for me were projected on to my life without even considering ME! Nothing was ever explained to me during that time. It was simply here is your new life, adapt and move on. I have always carried that experience with me. I just believe it could have been handled much differently. I also had the burning questions of “Where was the rest of my family, didn’t they want us?” Why didn’t anyone come to our rescue?

We were taken in to foster care by a woman who loved us as her own. She took us in and was very patient as my grandmother worked through the plight of losing us as well. Her environment had been interrupted by the removal of us from her home. I can remember the constant phone calls back to back from Grandma to my foster mother’s home requesting that she bring her children back home, or else. I will never know what was taking place behind the scenes, or how we ended up in this situation. However, I do know that it was the start of a series of events that would have such a huge impact on my life.

I believe that this is why I grew up feeling like an outcast, as if, I truly didn’t belong anywhere. I always longed to belong and be a part of something. There are times that I felt so out of place because I was without my birth family. I was asked so many questions with regard to family that I never had the answers to. I was completely out of touch with myself and who I really was; struggling to simply be myself as I never truly figured out all the parts of me. I am still unclear on how extensive my family tree is. My grandmother was the glue that kept me connected. Without her presence, I was lost.

Isaiah 56:5

Even to them I will give in My house

And within My walls a place and a name

Better than that of sons and daughters;

I will give them am everlasting name

That shall not be cut off.