(Note: Please excuse me if this piece lacks fluidity. I'm finding myself having to walk away and come back to this. I've never really spoken on such a personal level before.)
I ran through a number of titles for this but could come up with nothing better than Family.
For those of you who don't know, my family is from Haiti. My parents were born and raised in Port-au-Prince. I grew up in Jamaica, Queens and went to an elementary school abundant with Haitian-American kids. I had friends that I would throw around Haitian Patois (or Kreyòl)phrases with. We were all like Family.
A long time has passed since grade school but thanks to Facebook, I managed to reconnect with a large number of my Family that I hadn't really seen since we all signed each others' uniform shirts on that last day of our eigth grade year. The smiling faces all looked the same, familiar like Family always does. But now, after the tragedy that struck, I know my Family hurts just as I do. And like them, I watch the footage and see the pictures...in pain.
My mom...is broken by it all. Every child she sees is like one of her own. Every body in the street is like someone she knew personally or was related to...Family. My dad hides his emotions and stays strong for her. When I speak with her, I carry myself the same way. For her. And when we exchange our heart felt 'I love you's' and hang up, it's different story. See, I could always gauge how much hurt my mother feels. When the crime in New York (Queens, especially) was too much for her to stomach, I knew her pain and never told her what I had to deal with on a daily basis on my way to high school. So you could probably imagine how much greater this personal pain was for her. Especially since she still hasn't heard from her sister who had recently returned to Haiti to see Family.
And now, my sister who is just a couple years into her residency at a hospital in Pittsburgh, called me at 2 this morning to tell me she and her best friend (who is also a doctor) from college have arrived safely in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic and were en route to Haiti as part of a Medical Mission. So, once again I put on my father's bravado telling her to be safe out there and to keep in touch all the while, tucking away yesterday's video footage of a little boy who was pelted with rocks. He stood there after being carried to safety, dazed and confused, not realizing that it was blood from his own head that he repeatedly wiping from his eyes and face. It hurt so much because he's Family too.
So here I sit, praying for the safe return of my Family in Haiti trying to make a difference, for the safe return of my Family that found themselves in the middle of the difference and to the Family who will forever be different.
And for everyone who has extended any kind of prayer, words of encouragement, thoughts and well wishes...THANK YOU ON BEHALF OF MY FAMILY.
I ran through a number of titles for this but could come up with nothing better than Family.
For those of you who don't know, my family is from Haiti. My parents were born and raised in Port-au-Prince. I grew up in Jamaica, Queens and went to an elementary school abundant with Haitian-American kids. I had friends that I would throw around Haitian Patois (or Kreyòl)phrases with. We were all like Family.
A long time has passed since grade school but thanks to Facebook, I managed to reconnect with a large number of my Family that I hadn't really seen since we all signed each others' uniform shirts on that last day of our eigth grade year. The smiling faces all looked the same, familiar like Family always does. But now, after the tragedy that struck, I know my Family hurts just as I do. And like them, I watch the footage and see the pictures...in pain.
My mom...is broken by it all. Every child she sees is like one of her own. Every body in the street is like someone she knew personally or was related to...Family. My dad hides his emotions and stays strong for her. When I speak with her, I carry myself the same way. For her. And when we exchange our heart felt 'I love you's' and hang up, it's different story. See, I could always gauge how much hurt my mother feels. When the crime in New York (Queens, especially) was too much for her to stomach, I knew her pain and never told her what I had to deal with on a daily basis on my way to high school. So you could probably imagine how much greater this personal pain was for her. Especially since she still hasn't heard from her sister who had recently returned to Haiti to see Family.
And now, my sister who is just a couple years into her residency at a hospital in Pittsburgh, called me at 2 this morning to tell me she and her best friend (who is also a doctor) from college have arrived safely in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic and were en route to Haiti as part of a Medical Mission. So, once again I put on my father's bravado telling her to be safe out there and to keep in touch all the while, tucking away yesterday's video footage of a little boy who was pelted with rocks. He stood there after being carried to safety, dazed and confused, not realizing that it was blood from his own head that he repeatedly wiping from his eyes and face. It hurt so much because he's Family too.
So here I sit, praying for the safe return of my Family in Haiti trying to make a difference, for the safe return of my Family that found themselves in the middle of the difference and to the Family who will forever be different.
And for everyone who has extended any kind of prayer, words of encouragement, thoughts and well wishes...THANK YOU ON BEHALF OF MY FAMILY.
2 comments:
you, honey, are my Family. & this hurts me because, though i am not of Haitians or from Haiti, i look at the eyes & faces of the survivors (even the dead) & recognize them all. i hurt because you hurt. i hurt because they hurt. & your mother's hurt breaks my heart most of all.
i'm glad you got a chance to get this off of your heart, at least a little, & no one cares how coherent or concise it is. pain doesn't fit in a neat package.
i appreciate you & love you & yours. wishing your sister a productive trip & a safe return & you the heart & stomach to manage it all.
i love you.
wow....
Where do I start. Should I say the pain is felt by all but still yours and all the Haitians here, there and throughout the world feels it even more. I'm glad you shared this. Writing has always been a way for me to deal with pain, better than a 50 dollar co pay for a therapy session. I am from Jamaica born and raised. Spent most of my teenage years in Miami Fl the third world Mecca of America second to NY of course. The thing that gives me solace right now is my understanding of the Haitian community and how you all stick together. I mean next to the Hispanics I have never seen another culture that build each other up the way the Haitians do. Though I am sorrowful I am also hopeful. I know Haiti/Haitians will come out of this stronger. I go to bed every night, and wake up every morning reminding myself to not forget Haiti. To remember their struggle, their pain and to continue praying, hoping, and giving. I pray your sister will be safe and that your family finds peace..and that your aunt is safe.
Thanks for sharing...
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