Last Commented Family Blogs (547)

The Translation :
I Will Come Back Mother Kissing Your Luscious Head
Divulging My Longing To You And Sipping Your Right Hand's Essence
Nuzzling My Cheek In Your Feet's Soil
Watering The Ground With My Joyful Tears
How Many Nights You Were Sleepless Working To Get Me Sleeping Like A Kid
And How Many Times You Were Thirsty But You Worked To Water Me With All Tenderness
And I Will Never Forget Your Rainy Eyes When I Was Sick
And Your Restless Eye Scared Of Any Danger May Happen To Me
And What About Our Farewell In That Dawn ,, What A Hard Dawn It Was
No Heart Can Ever Describe The Abandonment That You Faced By Me
Then You Said Something I Couldn't Forget Up Until Now :
It's Impossible That You Will Find Warmer Arms Than Mine



Oh My (( Life's Joy )) The Creator Of The Universe Commanded Me To Be Loyal To You
Your Content Is The Secret Of My Good Fortune And Your Love Is My Faith's Sparkle
Don't Be Sad Mother ,, Here Am I ,, I Came To You With Teary Eyes
Don't Be Sad Mother ,, There Will Be No Separation From Now On ,, Until The Separation Of Death

PAY ME

He slept in the back bedroom of the small end bungalow that was our home place, a room into which the high hedge let only meagre light, even on the sunniest day.

My aunt took him home with her from a seaside holiday. Invited here for my amusement, he struck a ghoulish tone that discomforted us beneath our laughter.

My grandmother, in her drawn-out Border brogue, would say: “Sure that oul’ thing’ll only scar’ the child.”

And so, after commanding an initial place of sideboard prominence, he found himself confined in a drawer of a dressing table in a corner of the back bedroom. There he would lie waiting for his rest to be disturbed by someone, usually me, making secret pilgrimage to the grim collection point he presided over.

He was a plastic skeleton in a novelty moneybox.

He was the dread numismatist of my childhood.

The rectangle of thin tin was fashioned like a coffin. Painted on its sides were cobwebs dripping with fat spiders, flittering bats with wet, red mouths. A black cloth concealed the coffin’s contents from sight.

And there was a button, marked in scarlet, with the instruction PAY ME illuminated in shivery capitals.

I remember a particular day when, having lifted the moneybox from the drawer, I stood poised with a brown penny hot in my small hand.

An emaciated light squeezed its way between the almost closed curtains. In the backyard I could hear my mother and granny working at the mangle, its grind and the skite of water from the scrunched clothes throwing out familiar, reassuring sounds.

I placed my coin carefully on the button, and pressed down.

A creaky whirr commenced, the workings of the toy’s internal mechanism ingeniously suggestive of a wooden lid resisting its slow opening outwards.

Then, out from under the jet black cloth, came a long, luminous arm of bone, the hand hooked clawlike to drag the coin down into the dark innards of the coffin where it rattled eerily to rest.

And, as the hand retreated, from under the top of the cloth cover appeared a livid green skull that seemed to nod acknowledgement of the token before bobbing back into the folds of its uneasy sleep.

The skull’s tilt forward brought its empty eye sockets and its stripped grin level with my child’s line of vision. The effect, burned into the retina of my imagination’s eye, was one of recognition.

I should have let it go at that, and slipped away into the sun. But I wanted to copy the daring of my older brothers. So, offering no coin this time, I reached my finger forward and pressed down again and again upon the button.

The skeleton’s arm shout out in search of its reward, dropped back with nothing, shot out again. And as the claw of bone scraped along the tin in frustration, the skull rattled back and forth to complete the mime of thwarted anger.

I was hypnotised by the rhythm set by the tiny deaths-head, and the guilt and fear that suddenly filled me permeated the plaything with menace. A message passed between us in a language that would resist full translation until years had elapsed. Trying to trick me was a big mistake, the skull seemed to say. If you don’t pay me, now you’ll pay me later.

I hurried away while the skeleton was still in motion.

My dad kept giving me love pats. Love pats are soft punches of encouragement that are administered on the knee, shoulder and arm.

I thought I'd tell you one of those "It's a long story ", story's.

I am a the product of a very middle class family, that had skeletons in it's cupboards,( oh hell yeah, we had a whole bloody graveyard full).
I'm the youngest of 6. I had three brothers, two sisters, an uncaring mother and a violent, abusive farther. I never saw my dad hit any of the rest of my family, just me,( I may need a violin for the next bit). He'd hit me with any thing that came to hand, a stick, a shoe, a belt, And if nothing came to hand there was always the good old fist in the side of the head. The last time he hit me was with a can of beans, More, about that later.
My brothers emulated his behavior towards me, I took quite a few nasty beating off of them, up until the point I could give them back as good,(Or as bad), as I got. I was 7 when they realised they could put me down, but I wouldn't quit an being only 7 I fought like a cornered rat.(pull hair, scratch, bite, Gouge kick, up close and nasty). after that My dear brothers acted like my mother and sisters,and ignored me.


This is how it went on for 3 more years. regular poundings from my daddy, and being excluded by every other family member. To spite him I would never cry, he could hit me as hard as he wanted to, but I wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction. This was Normal,(with a capitol N even ), family life to me.


The one time I told someone about what my dad did to me, was when I was 10 a PE teacher at school, asked me where I got the bruising .all down my back. So I told him,( my dad had taken using his belt on me).
He informed social services. I didnt know this until a few days later a social worker came came to call. Talk about happy family's.

Two weeks later....A social workers report ......
"..... The child is a liar, He makes up story's, He's careless, Clumsy, Sullen, "why I wouldn't put it passed him to have thrown himself down the stairs." (that was the family explanation for the bruises) ,We never saw or heard nothing, ect ,ect "
Was basically what the social workers report said.

My dad saw that as his cue to, (In his words,) "Teach(POW),You(Thwak) Not(Thunk), To(Bash).Drag.Outsiders(SPLAT). Into. Family . Matters.(KERPOWIE)", and he punctuated his words with the previously mentioned baked bean tin.
I dont clearly remember happened next Whether this was down to the blow on the head I had just got, or the fact I blew a fuse.
I do know I lost it big time. Red mist is the best way to describe it. The next thing I do clearly remember is my two oldest brothers struggling with me trying very hard to restrain me, and remove a cricket bat from. My Farther was sitting on the floor across the other side of the room, his noes all over his face looking totally shocked.
What I'm told happened is I headbutted him, then shoved him across the room where he fell against the wall. Then according to my brothers, I picked up the cricket bat and went for him
(Charge) and proceeded to give him 10 yrs worth of poundings. The one thing I do remember is Shouting over and over "You touch me again and your dead!" I know I meant it, and so did he. The look on his face was one of fear.
It's a shames to say, But for a long time I thought of that look on his face as my happiest childhood memory, (I dont now)

The upshot of this was When that school year ended, Having passed my 11+ with a passing mark that was in the top 5% for that year, in the City we lived in, (not bad for a worthless, brainless Idiot) I was destined to go to a grammar school, but my parents decided that I would be sent to a boarding school instead.

(Cont in part2) (if you wish to comment do it under Part 3)

I loved that place, acres and acres of woods out in the badlands of deepest darkest Norfolk, (where the rush hour consists of the postman and the milkman )
My only real saving grace at this time was that I was not a bully (unless they were a bully and in that case it was, "Stand by to have yer heid kicked in, yer scunner")
In the first year I cheeked the teachers, I didn't give a monkey about rules, at least once a week I had a detention to serve, but I was a smart arse,( Good grades all round just for spite ). I settled down a bit after a while, (only a bit mind you I was still a very wild child), and did really well without having to put much effort in to it.
At the age of 16 I left school with 3 'A'Lvl's, 6'O'Lvl's,a whole bunch of CSE's, and an attitude.
When I left school I didn't go back to my family's house.

All through my late teens and my early 20's I hated the world, everyone, and every thing, in it including me,(except my motor bike). So I cheerfully set course on a cycle of self destructive behavior,( "Arr full speed ahead!" "Aye aye! Cap'un!")
I was not a nice person at all.(To put it mildly! You could say I was an violent unfeeling little sh1t head and you wouldn't be wrong!)
As I saw it at the time there are only a few problems that could not be solved by punching somebody's lights out, and I was very good at problem solving.

(cont in part 3 ) (if you wish to comment do it under Part 3)

Have you ever found words to live by or had good advice given to you? My parents made sure that I was taught good manners. Be polite, to sit up straight, eat with your mouth closed, don’t put your elbows on the table, make sure that your bed is made, brush your teeth daily, wash your hands before you eat or touch any food. Blow your nose in private.

Do you wish you had been given certain advice or guidance earlier in your life? For me personally, yes. I wish that I had been taught how to date, how to recognize people who have drug and drinking problems, to know when you are being lied to, how to better handle finances, to be informed about dental care in its entirety, and to not rush into decisions too quickly.

Did someone hear your message or advice and use it to guide them in making a decision, or help them with a personal issue?

People at work told me that they valued my work ethic and the way that I conducted myself. I would not give advice if I had not been in their shoes, or had that experience for myself. The information so freely given and delivered off of the tip of a tongue these days is often just something that they heard or read about from somewhere. I have found that much of it is outdated, unpractical, and ill-advised. If you haven’t done the research and followed through for yourself on the advice that you are dishing out, then please don’t give it nor share it. It only causes heartache, frustration, and confusion in the end for the person on the receiving end of it.

Please feel free to share your words of wisdom with us. It might bring back memories, a few laughs, and maybe someone will learn from it as well. Thank you!

Life isn't fair. Throughout different stages of our lives, something is going to happen that we didn't count on, weren't expecting, and no one told us about.

I feel angry when it happens. Especially when it takes me by surprise and catches me off-guard. Some things make me sad or even cry.

How many of these things have you felt or suffered?

Who knew that your parents would get divorced? That your sister would be given up for adoption? My brother died of an Aids related disease. I thought that my grandparents would live forever. I loved their stories and the way that they always loved me and gave great advice.

Did you know that your heart would get broken over one kiss? The one kid at school that you had a crush on, could make you feel like dying? How about how embarrassed you were when the kids in your class made fun of you?

Why didn't someone tell me that my marriage wouldn't last no matter how hard I tried to keep it together? That we have no control over what the other person decides? How about those with children? Who knew that the government could find ways to take them from you?

And death, one of the most cruel things that could happen to anyone. Why is it so painful for some who have to endure years of suffering, and yet others die peacefully in the night? Why do little babies die after only a few seconds of being born? Did someone tell you about that when you got pregnant and were so happy to be having a child?

No one ever told me that strangers could take away your virginity, steal your identity, rob you of all of your possessions, drive drunk and kill someone that you knew and loved. I could be homeless despite working my entire life, or that I would be forced to apply for food stamps so that I didn't go hungry.

No one said that the things you watch on tv actually happen in real life. I didn't know that one day I could come home and there would be no home due to a fire, flood, or a default on the mortgage. Maybe your family left without saying goodbye. Perhaps you didn't know what bad food was supposed to look like and you ate it and got sick. No one tells you what a stranger looks like, and you aren't supposed to talk to them, but everyday you say hi to one or more whenever you go to the store with your parents.

I don't think we will ever know all of the things that we should know to keep us safe, healthy, alive and informed. All we can do is try to adjust, read, and keep alert. Do our best not to take anything or anyone for granted.

when I met my future wife .when we were going out .I said to her if we get married. and thing don't work out .let be friends .but things could not have works out much bad .not only I was not wanted .but or 9yo .little girl as well .I don't get that .so me and or daughter had to go .but I made sure she send mother day cards to her mother .not for my ex wife .but for my daughter .because .my wife was on drugs .and she might not live long .and it's was for my daughter .and so please .don't use you children if you're marriage dose not work out .think of you children .you don't matter .if you have children .they come first .thank you Terence

I feel so lame and so not genuine.

I had a short stint, about 2 months, looking after disabled kids and teenagers when I was 17. It was a voluntary job about 30 mins drive from my home. Transport and food provided. The facility was run by a local church that got its funding mostly from Sweden.

Some of those kids were lucky, they had families to go back home at the end of the day. Some were not that lucky......

There was a 9 year-old boy who was brought to the center with bloodied ankles. Apparently, his family had no one to look after him at home and decided to shackle him to the post outside the car porch so that he wouldn't soil the inside of their house...

A teenage mom who had an intelligence of a 5 year-old kid who had been impregnated by strangers over and over again.....she had the sweetest disposition, always smiling at waving at me when she sees me every morning....

Sadly, when I left that place after 2 months, I got too caught up in my own problems to think of them..

When I watched this clip, I can't help but feel in awe of this man. Admiration and respect quickly followed suit. Love his final statement..."There's always good in this world, more than the bad, always..."