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God's Broken Lil' Baby

God's Broken Lil' Baby

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God's Broken Lil' Baby

Lunghezza:
264 pagine
4 ore
Pubblicato:
Aug 26, 2020
ISBN:
9781645316763
Formato:
Libro

Descrizione

Life is most definitely not fair. Sometimes, we are dished more than we feel we deserve. This book is about how it took a toll on me and what I learned from it. My hurts, pains, joys, and accomplishments are the beginning and end of me. If I can survive them, so can you.
Pubblicato:
Aug 26, 2020
ISBN:
9781645316763
Formato:
Libro

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God's Broken Lil' Baby - E. Jay Ford

baby.

Chapter 23

23 Damn, Not My Brother

Death of My Brother

There were five of us, and now there are four.

I think it was the hardest disappointment I had ever taken.

Gone before I had a chance to say goodbye,

not a reality until you are at the funeral and my family is in mourning.

Sorrow and pain are my new best friends.

Momma and Daddy are in disbelief.

He was eighteen and already six feet deep.

It’s been a while now, and the void is still there.

To me, it will never be clear

how you are here one day and the next day you are gone.

I have the feeling and more that I that are like no other

all this insanity from the death of my brother.

He’s dead. Just like that, he’s gone. He was eighteen years old. I had a feeling it was going to happen, but it still wasn’t real. My little brother was shot in the head last night. He tried to rob the dope man. Story has it that he and his best friend and one other nigga hatched this plan with another lame ass dude after a couple of bad life events. The one nigga he was hatching this plan with was one of the low-life ass dudes that had been hanging around our family for a while and started dating one of my family members. We knew him from the hood, but that lame ass dude was no more hood than my granny. Dude was soft as cake mix. The dude that gave them this inside information on who to rob was a close friend of Mr. Lame Ass. That’s where my brother went all the way wrong because to be all the way honest with you, both of the niggas were some snakes. Listening to them was step number 1 to losing his life. Hittin’ a lick with some non-gangsta shady ass dudes at their behest was dumb as fuck. My brother’s best friend was there, but he just followed my brother. I mean, it was his best friend, so he went along with it.

Anyway, they sat around getting high and drunk and decided they were going to execute this dumb shit. Now let me set the scene. Dope man lived on the third floor of Village Square Apartments in Indianapolis, Indiana, on the corner of 30th and Moller Road. There was only one way in and one way out of this apartment. They heard the dope man was out of town, so they needed to act now. Dude said he knew where the safe was. This was supposed to be an in-and-out job. My brother had on the only Halloween mask; the other two had bandanas covering their faces. They left their ID cards and shit at my sister’s house down the street. Here was where shit really got ridiculous. My brother was the only one with a fuckin’ weapon. His best friend had a can of mace, and this ignorant ass third man had an aerosol can of some kind of house cleaner he was supposed to use to blind the housemates. What in thee fuck! Whose idea was that? I don’t know, and I’m still trying to figure out why that shit was a go.

Night fell and it had hit the peak of the wee hours. They had decided it was time to execute. They walked from my cousin’s house which was only about ten apartments down from the dope man’s apartment. The Lame Ass was living with my cousin, but that’s a whole other story that I may or may not tell. These geniuses climbed three flights of stairs to do a robbery with one real weapon and two of the dumbest weapons in the universe to do a robbery. My brother was holding the only assault weapon, and I don’t even think the damn thing had bullets. They got halfway up the stairs, and that cake mix ass dude broke running away from the job. Honestly, that’s one of the main reasons I believe this shit was a setup from the beginning. How you gonna run and it was yo nigga that provided the info? Anyway, my brother and his best friend continued as planned. They got to the third floor, and my brother kicked in the door. Mind you, it took three kicks to get in the apartment. Yes, my dude, three kicks, which means if the first one didn’t wake up everyone in the house, surely, that second and third one did. There was no one announcing police, so kick three definitely had the whole house locked and loaded. They were in and my brother grabbed the dope man’s little sister who was sitting on the couch in shock. He’s yelling at her to take him to the stash. He grabbed her and started dragging her toward the back hall closet where he was told the safe was. Meanwhile, Best Friend had sprayed the cousin that had jumped up from the floor. He kicked him back to the floor and yelled at him to stay down. He’s blinded and screaming. Brother had his arm around the girl’s neck and the gun to her temple dragging her down the hall with his back to the master bedroom. Dope man, not on vacation, was aiming his piece through the crack of the door as my brother violently dragged his sister closer to the hall closet. Pow! Just like that, it’s over. My brother went down. One shot to the back of the head and my brother was another victim of the streets.

Best Friend ran but not far. The sight of watching his best friend die had sent him into immediate shock. He was literally downstairs in some bushes balled up in the fetal position when the police found him. He later went just a wee bit nuts. While waiting on the trial to happen, he would talk to my brother as if he was really in the cell with him. It wasn’t an act. He refused to believe he saw what he saw. That didn’t stop him from being charged for the robbery and the murder. He was convicted and got forty-three years. I showed up to the court to beg for leniency, but that fell upon deaf ears.

On the day of my brother’s death, I was at work. By far, one of the worst days of my life. I was working at a foot orthopedic place. They made foot inserts for people with bad feet. I was sorting for shipping when Baby Daddy walked in during my shift. He was supposed to be bringing me lunch, so I wasn’t surprised to see him. I was in a great mood, so I was excited to see him. The look on his face, though, let me know something was seriously wrong. He kept asking me to come outside and I wouldn’t. I repeatedly asked what was wrong, and he couldn’t answer me. I finally yelled at him to just tell me. When he did, I immediately buckled. I hit the floor so hard. I didn’t pass out, but I rolled into the fetal position and just started screaming. At that point in my life, I had never cried so hard in my life.

He finally got me off the floor and into the car. The ride home was silent and seemed like forever. I lived in the same apartment complex as my mommy and sister. We all met up at their apartment. When we pulled up, there were so many sad faces greeting us. It was the emptiest feeling I had ever experienced. There was no description. It’s a pain that had no words. We sat in silence once we heard the story. I had so many questions for Lame Ass, but it wasn’t the time. Not to mention, his sister, Female Lame Ass, was pregnant by my brother, and she was completely outside her mind. He was busy trying to help her. She is another story I’ll explain to you later.

I don’t know why, but I had to go where my brother had died. I had to see where he took his last breath. I don’t know if it wasn’t real enough for me or what, but I guess I must have thought it would give me some kind of closure. I drove to the dope man’s house. I didn’t know how he would respond, but I had to see. I got to the apartment complex, and as I got out, I began to cry again. As I walked up the three flights of stairs, I started to imagine what it was like for my brother. I kept asking myself why he didn’t just stop. I got to the door and knocked with tears in my eyes. I explained who I was and let the family that opened the door know that I wasn’t there for any trouble. They let me in and let me see where my brother died. They told me the story, and it was basically the same as I had heard. I was wrong. Doing that did nothing for me. My brother was still dead, and I was still dying on the inside.

This was the first funeral I had ever attended. It was terrible. My daddy had flown in from California. Hadn’t seen his ass in years. My mommy was a wreck. My sisters were crying so hard I thought they were going to be sick. My baby brother was so damn brokenhearted he couldn’t see straight. This was some straight bullshit, but what can you do? He made a decision that fucked all of us up and over. The family will never be the same. You know, life teaches you lessons in the most fucked up ways. My brother was an angry ass dude. He had disrespected my mommy, fought my sister, and beat up countless people for no reason at all. His karma was killing all of us. Regardless of the shit he did, he was still my brother, and I loved him with every ounce of me. This whole situation was some shit I would have to live with for the rest of my life.

Death is hard. Losing my brother was one of the hardest losses in my life. We moved from East St. Louis in order to escape that possibility, and it happened anyway. I learned that no matter where you go, if you are the same person you are when you get there, nothing has changed but your location.

Chapter 8

8 Trust No One

Look into My Eyes

I’ve grown up my whole life thinking there was no way out,

no one there to teach me what self-esteem was all about.

I fought for what I wanted, and I fought hard,

always thinking and always on my guard.

My attitude is bad, but I try.

Try to keep that hard exterior so that my soft insides can continue to hide.

I’ve been manipulated more than once.

People disrespect you and treat you like a punk;

try so hard to tell those bad vibes goodbye.

You would understand me more if you took the time and just look into my eyes.

I saw my first dead body when I was eight years old. I had never seen anybody dead. My daddy killed him. He shot him. We were living in Los Angeles, California. Our apartment was right off Hillcrest Avenue one block over from Cocoa Street. We lived on the second floor. All the apartments had a view of the pool because they were situated in a circle basically around the pool. I watched my daddy shoot this man while I was standing on the balcony. I was stunned for a minute. I remember my mommy telling me to get my ass in the house. I couldn’t move. My youngest sister was just a baby. My mommy was holding her to calm her. The gunfire scared her. It smelled like the Fourth of July. It instantly reminded me of firecrackers. We were having tuna and corn that night. My mommy made the best tuna in the world, but that night, I lost my appetite.

It was so hot that day. My daddy had picked me up from school, and the leather parts of his seats were burning my legs and back. He drove a red Trans Am, and he would always drive it so fast. I loved when he picked me up from school. Where we lived, we had a carport. We pulled into the carport, and I guess my daddy parked a little too close to the car assigned next to ours because when my daddy opened the door, he hit it. It left a ding in the door. My daddy sent me upstairs while he went to knock on the neighbor’s door to tell him he had scratched his car. He told him to find out how much it would cost and he would take care of it. My daddy had a job, but he also sold dope as a side hustle so he had the cash. The dude was cool with it, and it was over and done. You would think.

Fast-forward four hours later. We were sitting down to dinner. Somebody started banging on the door. This was not a regular knock. This was what was known as the police knock. It’s when somebody is knocking on your door so hard, it sounds like they are about to come through it. My daddy, who had a terrible temper, was pissed. He jumped up from the table, stormed across the living room, and pulled the door open with a force and a look of anger that let you know you had life fucked up knocking on his door like that. It was that dude, our neighbor, drunk off his ass. He started yelling about how my daddy must have thought he was a punk and don’t nobody fuck up his shit and he doesn’t do anything about it. He invited my daddy downstairs to settle this shit. My daddy knew dude was packin’, and my daddy was far from a soft ass nigga. You did not fuck with my daddy. My daddy went and got his piece and met dude downstairs.

My daddy had his gun tucked in the front of his pants under his shirt. I saw him put it there as he was walking out the door. He always wore these walking suits that were really loose, and you would never know he was concealing as he was coming toward you. He stood about six feet one and weighed, I know, three hundred twenty pounds easy. Dude was already standing downstairs by the three feet end of the pool. He had a cheering section coming from his apartment. They were all drunk and screaming obscenities. You can tell who got his dumb ass hyped up to do this stupid shit. Daddy wasn’t moved. Dude was yelling something about what my daddy wasn’t gonna do. My daddy just stood there silent. You can tell he was pissed and completely irritated on a whole other level. Dude pulled a gun and tried to shoot, but the gun jammed. That was fucked up for him because my daddy was just as fast and his didn’t jam. He went down like sack of potatoes, and blood was leaking from under him spilling onto the concrete. My mommy started whispering under her breath, Oh my God. Oh my God. My daddy was walking around the body cussing and calling him a stupid mothafucka. He was angrier after he shot him than he was before he shot him. He kept saying it didn’t have to go down like this. My mommy dragged me in the house when the police showed up. She didn’t want me to see them arrest my daddy. Dude’s people were on the porch crying and screaming, This mothafucka shot him, like he wasn’t the one who pulled the gun first.

They allowed my daddy to come upstairs to say goodbye to my mommy. When he got upstairs, my mommy was in a silent cry. He hugged my mommy so hard and whispered something in her ear. They were so in love with each other. They showed that kind of affection between each another all the time. I actually remember what they were like before the drugs. The police told him it was time to go. I was in the hallway crying my eyes out. They were taking my daddy away, and it wasn’t even his fault. After they shut the door, my mommy cried so hard. I couldn’t sleep that night. The fire coming out of the gun and dude dropping would play in my head over and over again. I missed my daddy already. I must have finally dozed off because I was awakened by a knock at our door. My mommy was still up listening to sad music. I could hear her yell Who is it from the living room. Always and Forever by Heatwave was playing when she opened to door to let my daddy in. I ran to the hallway to peek around the corner to see what the commotion was. They had released my daddy. They considered the murder self-defense, so they had to let him go. Mommy and Daddy held each other and slow danced. I just sat there and watched with so much joy. Little did I know, that joy I was feeling would not be one I would often feel in my lifetime.

My daddy did the honorable thing, and that didn’t mean shit. He told the truth. He owned up to his mistake. He offered to make what he did wrong right. It doesn’t matter how good you are, people are going to be who they are, and you just have to handle the shit as it comes your way. That’s just what my daddy did.

Chapter 19

19 My Firstborn

Chocolate Doll

Skin tone’s a deep dark brown;

don’t be shame you are the cutest thing around,

chocolate doll.

You’re the reason I give my all.

Brown and silky fine as wine,

shining just as bright from noon till nine.

Chocolate girl,

more precious than any pearl,

they always say the darker skin is skin so pure.

In our case, that is so true.

You are my baby girl, and I’ll give you my all

because you will forever and always be my chocolate doll.

I went into labor at 7:00 a.m., January 14, 1992. I didn’t go right to the hospital because the pain wasn’t that bad at first. I also wanted to eat. I was told I wouldn’t be able to eat until I was done. I was nineteen years old, married, and didn’t have a fuckin’ clue as to what I was doing or how my life was truly about to change. My husband was in the army and was stationed in Germany at the time, so I was living at home with my mommy who was a full-blown crack addict at this time and my four sisters and brothers. I was supposed to be in Germany, but by the time they found housing, I was too far along for the plane ride out of the country.

When I went into labor, my mommy wasn’t there. My sisters and brothers were there taking care of me. She was off on another one of her smoke sessions that lasted days at a time. There is no telling where she was. It was dead of winter and cold as fuck, and there was no tellin’ which crack shack in East St. Louis she was in, but my sister went looking for her for me. I love my siblings to life. They mean the world to me. They have always taken care of me like that. My brother went to get me donuts. I had a little money that I had hid in case of emergencies, and this was definitely an emergency. That left me at home with my youngest brother and sister. They would get me water and hold my hand. I had called my aunt who lived in Centerville to let her know that I was in labor. She had warned me to call the ambulance because it was going to get worse and I didn’t want to be at home when shit got real. I was talking big shit. I told her I had this and, if this was labor, I could have five more kids. She simply said okay and said, Yo ass gone learn today, and hung up.

By 7:00 p.m., I was in the most ridiculous fuckin’ pain I could have ever imagined. I thought she was trying to bust out of my whole body. I wanted to die. I didn’t know if I wanted to stand up or sit down. I didn’t know if my back or my stomach was hurting. The pain was everywhere, and I had no control. I was crying and screaming as I rolled from side to side on the floor. It was horrible. All four of my siblings were rubbing my back, belly, and head telling me it was going to be okay when my mommy finally burst through the door. One of the crack shacks my sister had knocked at early had told my mommy that she had come by and I was about to have the baby. There was one thing about my mommy. I don’t care how much she smoked; her ass would jump into mommy mode in a heartbeat. I believe that is why it was so hard for me to believe she was as bad as people had told me. She had made some fucked up decisions on that shit and did some fucked up things, but she was on her shit when she did show up. On top of that, she never allowed the state to take us no matter how bad shit got.

There I was, at 1263 Kansas, on my hands and knees feeling like this baby was kicking the shit out my insides trying to get out. The hospital was on Scott Air Force Base in Belleville a cool thirty minutes away. Favorite Uncle had showed up to take me to the hospital. You have to remember, there were no beepers or cell phones back then, so all communication was delayed. I literally was not on my way to the hospital until almost 9:30 p.m. No one should have to endure

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