A Short Memoir of Becca R.M.

A Short Memoir of Becca R.M.

A Story by Becca
"

It's been my only wish to inspire and with this short story I hope I help someone out there, some where.

"

Growing up, I remember few things. Many of the memories weren’t as pleasant as I would have liked, but at the time I thought it was normal. The alcohol, violence arguments were all I knew. My story didn't start then, it started when I was just eight months old.


I grew up in and out of hospitals my first few months in this world. Doctors didn’t know what was wrong with me. My Kookum was always very spiritual and giving. I don’t remember much about her, but the stories people tell me are beautiful. Hearing her name brought up in my small community almost brings tears to my eyes today.


One day, when I was just a few months old and I was very sick, lying in my crib. My dad overheard my Kookum speaking in Ojibwe to me. She was talking to the spirits and asking for a favour. She wanted nothing more than for me to be healthy, and to live a long life, so that is what she wished for. Little did I know there was a catch, my Kookum asked if her life would be taken and I would be spared.


A few weeks later my Kookum was home with my mother. She was in the bathroom when she came out in a panic. Something was wrong and she was going purple. My mom got my Aunt to take me and my brother. My mom and Kookum rushed to the hospital. That night my dad came in the city to find his mother laying on the deathbed. Her brittle and petite body was covered in the blankets. It was just my dad and her.  My Kookum could hardly breathe, never mind see. “My son,” she croaked.  Just like that she left the world. It was all too sudden.


Over the next month I became healthier. Each and every day, I wonder if people would hate me if they were to hear the story I hold closest to my heart.


When I was about six years old, my parents drinking grew tremendously. Almost every night there would be family members and sometimes strangers in my house, on a binge. I would creep down the stairs to find drunkards passed out on the floors. I would try to keep quiet, frightened of the strange people.


Over some of those times I would see my parents argue, occasionally getting violent with each other. I would cry and scream my head off, telling them to stop. One of my three brothers would pick me up and lock us both in one of the bedrooms. There would be me, my little sister, and my three brothers; hiding in one of the rooms, crying.


About five years later my dad decided to move us back home, on the reservation. We stayed with one of my relatives for the time being, until we got our own place. My mom however, did not come along with us. My parents at the time wanted time alone.


On the reserve, I was fair skinned. I was criticized and I hated it. The teasing is came from my own family and some friends. I dreaded going to school on the reservation. I couldn’t wait until I was done with elementary. The kids weren’t like my old friends I had in the city.


During my years living on the reservation I kept very few friends in contact from the city. During my time I ended up falling in love with the place. The trees, wild animals, people and spirituality were meant for me. I finally found who I really was.


My oldest brother was starting his own family now. The second oldest was living with his mom, while my other brother, just three years older; went to live with my Aunt in the city. He always had these dreams to play football, and that is what he went to pursue.

Valentine's Day was the day my cousin was murdered. I was everything, but happy. It was a tragedy. It really hit home for my whole community. It was a dark time for me personally. I faced a great amount of depression. One of my friends were there for me during that time. Right now we're not too close rigt now, and he is going through a difficult time. I tried to be there for him at the start, but he is a long way gone now. I will always remember him for his thoughtfulness.

 

It was on the reservation where I took my first hit of marijuana, it was also the first time I realized I wasn't going to end up like them. After getting high my head spun. I knew that this was probably one of the effects. I found myself feeling really guilty when I walked through my doors. I went in my room and wrote it all down.

 

 

Even today my friends from the reserve are doing drugs and alcohol. I've tried to offer some help, but they chose to go the other way. I did know that just because I hung around them, it didn't mean I had to participate in their bad habits.

 

 

Going into my last year on the reserve I was given a role in leadership. I was named the Junior Chief. I had plenty of duties and expectations, which I surpassed. I managed to get done what I promised. I was also able to talk in front of hundreds of people about local issues. I still hold many of those occasions closest to my heart as I am very proud of what I accomplished. People would tell me I'm just like my dad who was always big on Indigenous Rights. Every time people would compare me to my father I would have to remind them that I wasn't ever going to be like him, nor did I hope I would be. I planned to be better. I had to surpass him, just like each and every generation after me would surpass me.

 

It was my last year that in elementary that meant everything to me. A group of youth, including myself, planned on taking thirty-five people to Florida. In five months we managed to raise $50,000. It was in June that we were on our way to Florida.

 

 

My dad is almost three years sober now. My dad has been one of the biggest inspirations and my only true best friend. My three brother's I'm not sure about anymore. The two oldest haven't finished high school, but the other one should be graduating next year. My mom is slowly trying to quit drinking and gambling. My parent's are still not together and I don't think ever will be. They do talk and hang out sometimes. My little sister though, I have a feeling will have a bright future. And for me, I'm currently starting high school in the fall. I'm nervous like any teenager would be.

 

 

I've battled through depression at different times in my short life. I've been able to accomplish plenty of things already, and I plan on doing much more. I am still learning and growing up as I go along. I know my life wasn't as big of a struggle as others, but I just hope maybe someone out there can relate to me.

© 2013 Becca


Author's Note

Becca
I am a proud Anicinabe of Canada. I just wanted to let you all know that Kookum is what we call our Grandmother in our language. It was only respectable that I stick with that as I was honouring my Kookum.

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this was an amazing writing and I want to thank you for posting it..
I wish you all the best in life.
Take care, K.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on July 23, 2013
Last Updated on July 23, 2013
Tags: memoir, short story, autobiography, personal, nonfiction

Author

Becca
Becca

Manitoba / Ontario, Canada



About
I'm a Freshman in high school. I grew up in the prairies and mountains of Canada. I've dedicated my entire life to writing. I've written plenty of stories. I'm in the midst of transferring them onto t.. more..