She knocked on my door and turned my world upside down. (page 2)

panhandlegirl

I find it interesting that, if I am understanding correctly, you are writing about yourself in two parts; as the young child opening the door and the one knocking on the door. That may be a way of discovering/explaining feelings. I am interested to see how this develops. I took creative writing a few semesters ago and learned a lot about writing. I am enjoying reading your writings.

compound complex

Greetings, Nancy, OODAD and panhandlegirl:

Thanks for your comments; they are appreciated!

This is where it all started (see below). Yes, panhandlegirl, two sides to Vincent. Maybe. Or two distinct persons? Big brother and little brother? Is the entire tale told by a so-called unreliable narrator?

Vincent, my dear Vincent. You are so sad.

You did all you could to ease Dad's way. You were always there for him, at great expense to yourself. He is gone now. You must focus on the moment. On yourself. On me. I am your little brother and I need you. You were away serving your god when I was little and didn't have you here at my side to lift me up when I fell, which was often. I got into some stuff that I might not have if you had been there to say no to my temptations. My delicious temptations. You would have intervened, you would have stuck up for me when I was bullied into doing things I shouldn't have but was scared to say no to. But it was so delicious after I stopped being scared. But you should have been there for me. You should have!

Our parents were there for me when you were away. Of course they were. They loved me. They were giving. Despite that all important fact, however, it was you I kept thinking about and why couldn't I be as important to you as your religion or your mother or your father. My rational mind has all these family ties and obligations sorted out neatly and logically. I can be totally objective, clear and cool in my reasoning. Then my heart starts beating a tattoo, louder, louder until my skull starts pounding and I grab my head at the temples and want to say 'get out of my head, Vincent!'

You are here now with me in the family home. Just us two, just us. I can see you at this moment while you sit on the front stoop, smoking another cigarette, staring into the sky toward the god you say has abandoned you. You have me now, I will take care of you, I will be your companion. You can rest and be free of burdens - at last. Taking care of your father became too much for you. You would never say no or I've had it or I'm putting you in a home. That was you. Not me by a long shot. Please come out of your mourning and see me and my needs, the needs of a little brother whom you abandoned when he was tender and vulnerable and at the mercy of adults who knew better when I didn't.

He is gone now. Your father and your unremitting doing and caring for him are finished. He went away and will never return. I slipped in to see him that last day he was here on earth, when you were in your room. That was okay, you needed a few moments to yourself. He smiled when I walked in but seemed a little uncomfortable in his chair. He didn't complain. Like you, never complained. Never uttered a word. But I could see he needed another pillow. He said no, I'm all right, but I said I really thought he did. He got a little restless, but I really knew he'd be more comfortable with another pillow ... another pillow. He got a little restless ... he got a little restless ... but I gave him another pillow, another pillow. It was so beautiful. He was so peaceful. I was with him when he was restless no more ...

He was so peaceful....

http://www.jehovahs-witness.net/members/meetups/197934/1/He-Killed-Our-Father

panhandlegirl

CoCo, I love the name Vincent. It remindes me of Vincent van Gogh. He was such a troubled soul. One of my favorite songs is about him, don't know if it is called Vincent or Starry Starry night. I listen to it often.