It was just a couple of days.
That's all they were gone for.
But in just those couple of days, I worried. I stressed. I wondered. I got angry. The phone was blowing up every hour with Nikki pleading for us to let her and Mariel come back, to not make them stay for the 2 weeks we had planned because Lola's in Seattle and nobody would be here.
Be here to what? To take care of them? It hit me how ridiculous a thought that was when I listened to Nikki crying about there not being any food to eat, no toys to play with, and basically no parents to take care of her or her baby sister. Physically, they were there. Emotionally, I believe my aunt and uncle have detached themselves from their daughters and it's so disgusting.
Nikki had woken up early in the morning (as is her habit, despite staying up late playing with her DS) and gotten Mariel ready for breakfast. No breakfast. No food. Nothing in the cupboards or the fridge. She had tried to get her parents to get up and get some food, but they couldn't be roused. How can you be too sleepy to feed your children? Not tired. God knows that BUM isn't tired.
"Wow. All that shit I didn't do today really wore me out."
Well, they're back and I think that it's best that they're back. I believe that it's better that they're here instead of over there. Honestly, I was against it at first. I thought that these two little girls should at least spend a little time with their parents. I see know that it's futile. Completely useless.
Who would want to know parents like that?
My dad left me and my mom to go to Australia, but he never once forgot about is. He sent money, cards, letters, candy, and so many little gifts. He called us repeatedly even though his phone bill racked up to over a grand. My dad slept in a tiny room in his brother's family's house because most of his pay went to taking care of us. Then, after all of that... he left all he knew during that time; family, friends, familiar places and his job... to come and be with us. And now he's working overtime whenever he can fit it in. I never see him sit back and relax anymore.
My mom has worked herself to the bone for as long as I could remember to make sure I was taken care of. Her knee has all but given out. She's gotten boiling, hot oil spilled down her legs by a careless worker and still carries those scars. She gets up at 7 in the morning and isn't home until 7 at night. And despite all the stress and emotions piling high on her right now, she'll still talk to me and kiss me on the forehead.
These are MY parents. This is how I grew up, so I don't understand... I can't understand what the hell is going on in my aunt's and uncle's minds. It's like somebody threw a wrench into the gears and made them forget that they're parents.
Dear, God. Don't let that happen to me.