Deathbed Confessions: My Twisted Anecdotes for Quenching My Thirst for the Truth

By Olive May

Confess! Confess your love, your hate, your lusteverything. By the time you are on your deathbed and feel the urge to do these things, it will be far too late. The ears of the ones who need to hear the confessions will not be there to hear your heartfelt truth that they deserved to hear so many years ago. Don't wait until the hands of time are wound so tightly that the beauty in your confessions no longer exists. Do it as you feel it. The naked and raw outcome is refreshing and peaceful.

Olive May has lived her entire life in lies and deceit, in all ways. Every decision she has made arose not from truth and honesty, but from treachery, masked by thoughts of judgment. She was born the seventh child of a tormented woman, her mother dying within the first year of her birth. Her father did not want her, but eventually she was adopted by her mothers ex-husband and his new wife; joining her mothers six other children created unusual circumstances that laid the groundwork for her later problems.

Now she sees the pleasure in truth, and she longs to help others see this light.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jul 22, 2010
• ISBN: 9781426938313

Olive May

Olive May lives in Nanaimo, British Columbia, and has grown up all over the world. She now lives with her husband and two children, all of whom stand by her side, supporting her writing every step of the way.

Book preview

DEATHBED CONFESSIONS:

My Twisted Anecdotes for Quenching

My Thirst for the Truth.

Olive May

Part 1

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© Copyright 2010 Olive May.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN: 978-1-4269-3760-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4269-3759-0 (dj)

ISBN: 978-1-4269-3831-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010909977

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

This book is dedicated to all the authors whose beautiful words inspired me to write my own. Thank you George Orwell, Milan Kundred, Wally Lamb, Lao Tzu, Desmond Morris, Noam Chomsky, Ray Bradbury, Jostein Gaarder, Tom Robbins, Echart Tolle, Aldous Huxley, Yann Martel, Roald Dahl, and many more.

In this book I hope to convey my passion for writing as well as my lessons learned. There are many more to come—lessons and books. Life is what you make it. Every time my stepmom would say that phrase, it angered me. I was consumed with guilt; at the same time, I knew she was right. She had no idea the repercussions that followed such philosophical words.

Chapter One

As I sit waiting for our meeting to begin, my palms begin to sweat. Crap! I prepared myself all day to remain calm, but no, here we go again. My heart starts to race at an unhealthy rate. I start to squirm uncontrollably in anticipation. With every moment I head towards heart failure, I’m sure of it.

Oh wait, look at that cobweb. Um, must have missed that one. I’ll be sure to get it later, I think to myself.

Leah.

Okay, here we go, be cool, be cool. I enter the room, and as always, I inhale the rich, deep aroma of his cologne. As expected, it smells quite recently applied. I like to take this to be personally for me. Now for the always uncomfortable first few seconds of painful silence as we shuffle around the room in preparation to discuss my troubles. He sits; I sit. We stare for what seems to be an eternity and then I dart into my intense battle with insomnia, again.

This has been an ongoing issue for most of my life. Now, having been medicated for the past ten years, I have actually been sleeping quite comfortably with a few bumps. Three nights before the meeting, unfortunately, my beloved sleeping pills had abruptly stopped and I have not slept since. Feeling disoriented from lack of sleep and the torment of infatuation, I fumble through the conversation, trying to be impossibly intelligent with no success.

He sits back, lifts his finger to his chin, slants his eyes, and thinks for another eon of my torturous trip to heart failure, now at 387 beats a minute. He finally speaks.

Have you ever considered why you don’t sleep?

As my mind refocuses from my sexual fantasy of him having his way with me on the examining table, I am taken aback by my mind’s answer to the question.

No .... I said, confused by my intrigue.

He went on to explain the depth of insomnia and the subconscious, being sure to make it clear he was not a psychologist. He was very concerned with the fact I had never explored this alternate path. We both agreed that I should see a counselor. Meanwhile, I had been seeing a psychiatrist for a few months, but he concluded that because I couldn’t remember her name, it wasn’t working. He made a good point that if your memory forgets such a common detail as someone’s name, the level of respect needed for therapy is missing. So naturally I agree with him as I do with anything that comes out of his mouth. I have quite the weakness for the British accent. Also the intelligence of his background made my mind crave his conversation. To end our visit, he supplied me with a small amount of sleeping medication and said he’d like to see me the next week. He handed me the business card of the counselor he thought suitable and I left with my thoughts a whirlin’, not only of him but that question: why can’t I sleep? I had been medicated for so many years I had forgotten about the issue.

Now that he has issued me the task of discovery, it is an unknown and very windy road that I have never been on. Nonetheless, it has brought me to a turning point in my life. I have become aware, and as always, ignorance is bliss, but I choose to not be ignorant of my past or my future. So this is a story of my life, all the good, bad, and ugly. It will be a journey of life’s lessons, repeated over and over and over until they painfully make a statement by teaching me in a way I understand and hopefully, finally learn.

Now the question: where do I start? As everyone always says, From the beginning.

Chapter Two

In the Beginning.

Let’s start with Max Dietrich: a simple man from a simpler time. A man with such humility, people should strive just to have a hint of his love and generosity. He had a work ethic like no other and a soul that shined brighter than any before him. Max believed in love. Like many men, he wanted a family of his own: a loving wife and many children. He grew up with his very German parents in the time of World War 2. Having to go to work at the age of nine, he did not receive the education that so many of us take for granted. So he struggled through life with a very limited ability to read. He was raised on a farm and learned the benefits of good honest hard work. He rode horses, excelled in hockey and baseball, and was an excellent athlete. He was full of passion and hope, having no idea of what lay ahead.

They met on a beautiful spring day, through mutual friends, and he loved her instantly. Rose Cooper. Her and her identical twin sister, Rachelle, made quite an impression on Max. They were two very different girls: Rose full of life and surprise, passionate, and mischievous; Rachelle, very conservative and calm, and seeming to always bring reason into every situation. Obviously, it was Rose whom he fell for, as our hearts always tend to want a piece of the excitement—good or bad.

As a relationship developed with its ups and downs, Max got a glimpse of a troubled future. When it came to love, his own reason and common sense seemed to be replaced with a fuzzy concept of perfection that he would rather see in the other person.

Soon after, they wed. With stars in their eyes and love on the brain, they started a family. Jake, the firstborn, was Max’s dream come true. Hoping the next was a girl, they continued to build their family. All along, Rose’s mental state would have severe drops and encouraging lifts. Max chalked it all up to the difficulties of pregnancy and raising a family.

They, in the end of their family-making, were left with five boys and a new baby girl. Apparently, they had decided to continue having children till they were blessed with a girl. Well, six kids later, here she was. Lily Lynnae Leah—everything Max had ever hoped for in a daughter. They had an instant connection; she was his angel. In all the chaos that came with a family of this size, Rose proceeded down her spiral, and I guess in trying to cope, had become addicted to drinking to solve her problems. The boys don’t tell me much of this time as I’m assuming it wasn’t a pleasant one. Lily, being too young to remember, has a very different outlook on the situation. Dad, also until recently, left all those years out of his storytelling.

As the drinking got worse, so did the lies. I’ve been told of many infidelities that took place within their marriage, but I guess Dad did his best to keep in together for the family and his own hopes of rekindling their love.

When Lily had turned four, Dad finally decided that the kids’ safety should come first. He left, with all of the kids in tow and without a fight on Mom’s part to keep it together. So you can imagine Max, Jake, Dale, Raymond, Jared, Joel, and Lily off to hopefully regain somewhat of a normal life. Max had started a pool company, which he did exceedingly well at with his good work ethic and honest ways. The boys worked a lot with him between school, and I’m not sure of Lily’s details, but she managed, which was the important thing.

Rose had her own troubles to deal with. She had started to date a gentleman named Scott Linder. Unfortunately, my details on this relationship are very minimal as I have yet to meet anyone who knows any details other than the few terrible things I’ve heard through the years. I guess their drug abuse and drinking had brought them together. He ran a successful carpentry company and had a degree in English but chose not to enhance his scholastic abilities. Instead, he turned to the bottle and drugs. Anyway, as I said I’m in the dark about most of their relationship, but the few stories I know, I will relay.

I guess he was quite a violent man and would beat her regularly. I’m not sure of why she stayed, but no one can ever figure out why people stay until they experience it themselves. Rose soon became pregnant again, much to her delight. According to the boys, this was the only time she was happy. While she was pregnant, the beatings became more intense. At one point during what he considered teaching her a lesson, I’m not sure what for, while she was seven months pregnant, he made her stand naked in the snow until he figured she had learned her lesson. I’m not sure why people do these ugly things but I hope to never have to see the things she did. She rarely saw the other kids during this time as I’m sure she wasn’t the ideal parent in Max’s eyes.

Now back to Max. During all of this, he also had met a new love, Gwen: a single mother of three with a good sense of humor and in need of a mate. Their relationship moved quite quickly. I’m not so sure whether it was based on romance or the intense need for each other’s company. Max had a good job and was kind. Gwen was fresh out of a violent marriage, with no money, and she was lonely. I like to think they had a special connection, but in reality, I think it was life’s circumstance that threw them into a speedy marriage. Hey, whatever works, I guess.

Rose had also married Scott. Again, no understanding of why she would do such a thing. I would love to know the feeling Max experienced during all of this. I don’t think he has ever truly gotten over the love he had for Rose. I catch him sometimes, seeing her in me, and I think it causes him pain, still, so many years later. I guess you never stop loving those you have loved. It just seems to change into a