Who Votes for Skipping April?

I have put off writing this, but in the spirit of open and honest authenticity, here it is: April.

April is hard for me.

April 1st is the anniversary date of the death of my uncle. When I was a kid he was my favorite relative, everyday he spent hours playing board games, telling me stories, watching old movies and tv shows, listening to me read, giving me all his attention. But there was something else he gave me, something I was in denial about for a very long time. Sexual abuse. Every day for five years. 

I clearly remember when he died. He had been in the hospital for several days and in my father's family when someone is in the hospital, life stops. Everyone takes off of work and stays out of school to be at the hospital the entire time. On this day I went to a neighbor's house for a few hours to borrow some books and eat some lunch. She brought me and my cousin back to the hospital that afternoon. A family member met us by the elevators and said, "He died." I was crushed, I remember crying hysterically right there in front of about 25 people waiting for the elevator to arrive. She looked at me and said, "It's over."  Just like that.

"It's over."

What did that even mean? In my nine year old brain I was angry. Angry at her for being so cold. Angry at my family for sending me away from the hospital. Angry at my uncle for dying. Angry at all the people staring at me in the hallway. I also remember my cousin who was also standing there (not the one who had been with me at the neighbor's house) saying "Stop crying." That made me angry too. Here my world was falling apart in the middle of the hallway and he expected me to stop crying. The neighbor took me back to her house. God bless her.

It took me a long time to forgive that family member for doing that to me. I didn't understand why she had acted that way. For years I spent the first day of April in grief. I've never played an April Fools joke; there was no joking on that day in my life. When I got older, I finally admitted to myself that in the midst of all of those memories of attention and fun there were other memories. Memories of abuse. And what plagues me even more, darkness where memories should be. I also eventually made peace with this family member, I came to find that she had her own set of memories from a childhood spent with this man. She had a very good reason to stand there cold and unaffected with only the words "It's over,"  for a eulogy. For me, it still is not over.

Now on this day, I still grieve. I grieve for the man who was probably my best friend as a child. I grieve for the childhood he stole from me and for the person I might have been. I grieve for the other childhoods he stole (at least three he was convicted of before I was born, but no jail sentences given, and others I know of that he was never charged with). I grieve the fact that I had a father and grandparents who knew this man was a child molester, they still sent me into a room alone with him each day for five years with no thought to my safety, and chose to cover up the abuse they knew was happening. I enter into this month feeling conflicted at every turn. I retreat so far into my own mind and memories that I'm sure it is difficult for anyone who has to live with me. 

So what is the answer to all this grief?  Joy! Joy is always the answer.

So today I choose to rejoice.

I rejoice in a husband who holds me when I cry, and understands me the best he can. I rejoice in a God who loves me so much He pursues me with a passion that is simultaneously scary and beautiful. I rejoice in a daughter who, even as I write this, has made me a pretend snack of all of my favorite things. She teaches my inner child how to do fun and carefree everyday. I rejoice in friends who support me in my healing, teach me how to be open, love me even when I feel damaged, and show me my wholeness. 

This April has brought all the conflict and grief of years past and mixed it with the stress and things surrounding me now, until I have thought I would break under the weight of it. As I fight against behaviors rooted in my survivor coping techniques (those techniques that hurt more than they help), I fight to open my mouth and speak out my feelings. To not punish those around me for things that happened so long ago or for things happening today that they can't control any more than I can, and to have real conversations (not mindless fights) about the things we can and should control today.

I was reminded this weekend of a picture I drew several years ago on an April 1st.  I dug back through my archives to find it and was hit with how true that picture still is, so I will leave you with this...

...and I will go make puppets with my daughter.
And live in JOY. 

And as to skipping April? Not me!
I vote to overcome April.
To stand strong throughout it (even if I can only stand on my knees)
Because that is what surviving really is...and I am a survivor!