A Bonnet of Hope
She revisited the memory with tenderness and fresh tears of relief. The delicate, snow white tissue paper was worn from folding and unfolding. Its contents, perfectly undamaged, revealed the treasure and gave reason to the surge of emotion surfacing once again.
The lifelong, relentless questions that had surrounded her mind like storm clouds were finally receiving answers. They came as a healing balm to the cold and hollow emptiness of feeling alone and abandoned.
As a young girl she often wondered about her father. Grandmother never had anything good to say about him and she learned the hard way not to pry or give voice to her unanswered ponderings. Mother worked to take care of her while she was left tended to by Grandmother's harsh and angry ways. Nothing seemed to make her happy and any moment could bring a backlash of hateful words and numerous, undeserved punishments.
Late at night, sleep would often evade her as thoughts of being hopelessly forgotten by her father taunted and teased like children on the playground. She prayed that one day answers would come and fill the hole in her heart.
Days turned to months and months to years. She grew into a beautiful young woman, found love of her own, and mothered with care, five children. The years would not dull the ache or the unanswered question yet she gave herself wholeheartedly to her family.
Years later, with weathered and fragile fingers, the answer came, quietly and without fanfare. It began with a phonecall that stirred her soul and brought a surge of hope into her heart. Through her grown daughter and an old letter, an aunt was discovered. The sister of her father...
The story began to unravel and her heart responded to its truth. Her father had been consumed with love for her mother but after she was born, Grandmother forbid him to see her. He considered taking her away but rethought the plan realizing she was a nursing, dependant infant. He grieved the thought of walking away but had no choice. He would never forget this little girl and to be sure, the last time he saw her, he snuck unnoticed to her baby buggy and took the white, crocheted bonnet from her head.
He carried it with him through World War I, carefully wrapped in white tissue paper. It compelled him not to give up. Each time he felt the pain of separation from his sweet girl, he would reach into his pocket, pat the bonnet, and remind himself that one day he would indeed find her. He sent gifts and cards never to be received.
This answer came too late for a meeting. Her father had passed away years before but not without telling the story of this long lost baby girl that held a piece of his heart. And so, after many years, the discovery of this aunt and two brothers brought a delicate peace to her heart. It also quieted the hauntings of being forgotten and forsaken.
As her fingers gently hold the baby bonnet, she says with quiet confidence and a tear in her eye....One day, I'll see my Dad. He'll know me and I'll know him. That will be a grand reunion indeed.
This story is dedicated to my grandmother, the sweet baby girl whose father never forgot about her.
The lifelong, relentless questions that had surrounded her mind like storm clouds were finally receiving answers. They came as a healing balm to the cold and hollow emptiness of feeling alone and abandoned.
As a young girl she often wondered about her father. Grandmother never had anything good to say about him and she learned the hard way not to pry or give voice to her unanswered ponderings. Mother worked to take care of her while she was left tended to by Grandmother's harsh and angry ways. Nothing seemed to make her happy and any moment could bring a backlash of hateful words and numerous, undeserved punishments.
Late at night, sleep would often evade her as thoughts of being hopelessly forgotten by her father taunted and teased like children on the playground. She prayed that one day answers would come and fill the hole in her heart.
Days turned to months and months to years. She grew into a beautiful young woman, found love of her own, and mothered with care, five children. The years would not dull the ache or the unanswered question yet she gave herself wholeheartedly to her family.
Years later, with weathered and fragile fingers, the answer came, quietly and without fanfare. It began with a phonecall that stirred her soul and brought a surge of hope into her heart. Through her grown daughter and an old letter, an aunt was discovered. The sister of her father...
The story began to unravel and her heart responded to its truth. Her father had been consumed with love for her mother but after she was born, Grandmother forbid him to see her. He considered taking her away but rethought the plan realizing she was a nursing, dependant infant. He grieved the thought of walking away but had no choice. He would never forget this little girl and to be sure, the last time he saw her, he snuck unnoticed to her baby buggy and took the white, crocheted bonnet from her head.
He carried it with him through World War I, carefully wrapped in white tissue paper. It compelled him not to give up. Each time he felt the pain of separation from his sweet girl, he would reach into his pocket, pat the bonnet, and remind himself that one day he would indeed find her. He sent gifts and cards never to be received.
This answer came too late for a meeting. Her father had passed away years before but not without telling the story of this long lost baby girl that held a piece of his heart. And so, after many years, the discovery of this aunt and two brothers brought a delicate peace to her heart. It also quieted the hauntings of being forgotten and forsaken.
As her fingers gently hold the baby bonnet, she says with quiet confidence and a tear in her eye....One day, I'll see my Dad. He'll know me and I'll know him. That will be a grand reunion indeed.
This story is dedicated to my grandmother, the sweet baby girl whose father never forgot about her.
posted by Yanna @ 1:05 PM
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