Written in tribute to my sister, Pamela Frances Ball who died on Valentines Day 1978 at age 13. Magnificent music/guitar by Frozen Entropy. This clip has been dedicated to the organization "Stop Aids Now" although Pamela never had aids .. she died from renal failure following a rejected Kidney transplant.
I've written this, once before. When I had written my autobiography. I had to delete it then because the government were keen to cover up information relating to the death of Hamidur Rahman and they needed to delete all my writing. But it isn't connected to his death, and only because it happened that you died it is connected to yours.
I had judged you harshly, and not to excuse myself, it was the custom of our family to do so. You were sick and I resented what blessings you had. My mother was sick too, but although I had contempt for her, I hadn't fully comprehended the nature of her disease. She did not know how to be a parent and she was hurt. She set us against each other. She didn't need to feel to blame if we were blaming each other.
It happened when Mother had been found out for drinking by Dad. She made out she was defending Cathy's right to have a cat, or John's right to push his fist through a glass door. Dad slapped her, once, simply across the face.
Mother got all shocked, and said she had never been hit before .. and told all of us to get in the car. Dad told us not to, but the two older ones were in the car with Mom, and you and I were firmly instructed to go to our rooms.
Mom drove down the hidden driveway and onto the street of 101 Winant Rd in Princeton NJ. I have a google Earth map showing it.
Not much time passed. Dad told us to stay in our rooms no matter what. But soon Cathy was at our windows, indicating we should go outside and get in the car.
I got out quietly, and you could have too, but you decided to argue. So Dad heard us leaving, and he got in his car and chased after us in mother's car. We were going down the highway, and John remarked that we had lost Dad, but Cathy said he'd know to come here, as it was the only way out of town .. and Dad was behind us. Mother pulled over and Dad got out of his car saying he only wanted you and me, the others could go.
So after making us leave the rooms we had been ordered to stay in, Mother turned us over to Dad, whom she had stoked into a rage.
He raged a lot on his way back home. Saying we had betrayed him. We got out of the car in the carport, and walked up the steps to the landing at the kitchen. Dad told us to stop there. He cornered us against a wall and continued to rage at our betrayal. He slapped us down, and then began to kick at us .. not hard, but the rage and spit and threat were terrifying.
We couldn't get up, we were lying on the ground as he swung his shoe into us with slow but determined strides. You said "Dad, stop. My colostomy bag."
I didn't think he intended to hurt us .. but I could tell he wasn't thinking straight either. I said "If you are going to kick, then kick me."
He didn't stop what he was doing, but something of what was said penetrated his rage. "You want me to kick you?" he asked.
"No. I don't want you hurting Pam."
Forever after he would call me a martyr, and say I was sanctimonious. He eventually let up and ordered us to our rooms again and said if we betrayed him again he would kill us.
It wasn't long after you got the offer of a new Kidney. A possibility of a life without that colostomy bag. No more dialysis.
I resented you. But I love you too. Happy valentines day, Pam.
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