Tears of My Heart

By Sandra Palmer

The story tugs at the heart strings of the reader with such a force that you can't help but shed a tear. The book takes you on a journey through numerous emotions that you feel daily, but somehow take for granted. It makes you sad, it makes you happy, it makes you laugh and want to take risks and face any challenges laid before you. The plot is moving and inspirational and it will leave an impression on you that will last a lifetime. It depicts the struggle and beauty of motherhood despite many adversities. How a woman selflessly gives herself to the obligations of her family. It gives great life lessons. This is not another feel good book, this book makes you realise your actions can affect the lives of others in more ways than you can imagine. A book that will keep you engrossed from the first chapter. An unforgettable story of faith, survival and courage. A triumph of human strength in the face of overwhelming odds.
A sotry of loving and letting go. A celebration of hope, forgiveness and life. A real page turner!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Aug 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456783334

Sandra Palmer

Sandra Palmer was a senior lecturer in Religious Education at Manchester Metropolitan University for seventeen years. She is actively involved in interfaith dialogue.

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© 2011 by Sandra Palmer. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 08/02/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-8332-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-8333-4 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

CHAPTER 1

The Wedding

CHAPTER 2

The Crawfords

CHAPTER 3

Procedures, Pregnancy & Peter Snr

CHAPTER 4

Alcohol, Abuse And Anxiety

CHAPTER 5

Handouts And Holidays

CHAPTER 6

Seaside Bliss

CHAPTER 7

Kayla

CHAPTER 8

Family Sentiments

CHAPTER 9

The Burglary

CHAPTER 10

Peter’s Fateful Decision

CHAPTER 11

Abandoned At Sea

CHAPTER 12

Trevor

CHAPTER 13

Through Sick And Sin

CHAPTER 14

False Promises

CHAPTER 15

Stress! Stress! Stress!

CHAPTER 16

Farewell Mommy

CHAPTER 17

Chris And Linda

CHAPTER 18

Monster-In-Law’s Evil Tactics

CHAPTER 19

Time For Action!

CHAPTER 20

Survival And Tragedy

CHAPTER 21

New Beginnings… .

CHAPTER 22

Failure, Remorse And Anguish

CHAPTER 23

Leon

CHAPTER 24

Embracing The Inevitable

CHAPTER 25

Moving On—New Emotions

CHAPTER 26

Kids, Cats And Catastrophes

CHAPTER 27

Mixed Emotions As Court Brings Closure

CHAPTER 28

Elize

CHAPTER 29

Teen Dilemmas

CHAPTER 30

Barry

CHAPTER 31

Controlling Mannerisms

CHAPTER 32

Coaching The Chinese

CHAPTER 33

High Volt

CHAPTER 34

Meeting Mike

CHAPTER 35

Love, Laughter And Rage

CHAPTER 36

The Abuse Continues

CHAPTER 37

Abundant Attraction

CHAPTER 38

Heartache And Lies

CHAPTER 39

Dear John

CHAPTER 40

Forgiven, But Not Forgotten

CHAPTER 41

Releasing The Past And Rekindling Happiness

CHAPTER 42

Love, Hope And Misfortune

CHAPTER 43

Weaknesses And Strengths

CHAPTER 44

Getting Acquainted

CHAPTER 45

Severing Bonds

CHAPTER 46

Passionate Promises

CHAPTER 47

Soul Searching

CHAPTER 48

Rebels And Rebellion

CHAPTER 49

Securing Foundations

CHAPTER 50

Farewells And Departures

CHAPTER 51

Bitter Sweet

Preface

The reader is irresistibly swept through the emotions of love, heartache and the grandeur of a family saga and family secrets. The plot is inspirational and moving.

Trista relates her life’s experiences, overcoming a physical and emotional abuse. Her unfailing attempts to overcome her alcoholic husband’s addictions and surviving financial struggles in the midst of extreme measures. Through many trials and tribulations both she and her family have survived a ship wreck, unemployment, death and many of life’s lessons. Laughter, love and hardships bind the family and their unfailing faith, lead them to new beginnings. As the lives of these characters intertwine love and hope, emotionally and otherwise, are the ties that bind, making this love story about family relationships and the choices and bids that were made.

A dazzling relationship evolves sweeping the reader through many humorous and heart wrenching events, always holding onto faith amid every situation.

I was shaking with rage and I found myself thinking…it would be the easiest thing in the world to grab him by his throat and kill him!

Quoted from: The Holy Bible

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

A Time for Everything

There is a time for everything,

And a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

Dedication

To my children:

      Gareth

      Jonathan

      Lisa

You are all extraordinary children and I love and cherish you dearly. Without your inspiration, encouragement this would not have been possible.

To my Husband, Eric

Thank you for all your encouragement and dedication.

You will have my heart forever.

Love you always.

CHAPTER 1

The Wedding

It was a Saturday afternoon in October as I stood in front of the window watching the Easterly wind blowing through the trees in front of the bedroom window.

The hairdresser had just finished adding the finishing touches to my long platinum blond, hair. Soft curls draped my shoulders and a beautiful white orchid attached to a sprig of Gypsophilla was attached to my long veil.

The dressmaker had just finished helping me dress for what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life—my wedding day! The photographer was due to arrive to capture memories of the eventful day. My parents’ house bustled with family finalizing all the arrangements, while others were making their way to the church and arranging lifts for elderly relatives.

I did not let the noise in the house distract me. Thoughts began to control the present moment while emotions welled up inside leaving me unaware of all the activity around me. Time seemed to stand still.

I heard the grandfather clock chime four pm and knew that shortly I would make a decision that would affect my whole future.

Would the time that remained allow me to make the right decision, or result in me regretting the decision? More than one hundred and fifty invited guests were eagerly waiting my arrival at the church.

I wondered Was it natural to have doubts at this late stage, or was it intuition trying to tell me something? Only time would tell…

I had known the man, who was waiting at the altar, for a mere six months. My parents told me that, at the age of only twenty years, I was too young to get married. My father had said so many times that I should enjoy my youth and not think about settling down. There would be plenty of time in the future for me to consider marriage. But I listened to my head instead of my heart and decided to ignore his advice. I was determined to follow my dreams and never to let it go. My desire for love was my main goal and I thought that I had found it and I grabbed it with both hands and embedded it into my heart.

Most of my friends were either engaged or married so I did not want to be left on the shelf.

I was the only daughter of an elderly couple with three older brothers. I was always known as the apple of my father’s eye as I "could not do anything wrong in my father’s eyes. It took a lot of convincing to get my father to give his consent for me to be married to Peter.

We had been working together as ground crew for the national airline, when Peter started taking more than a friendly interest in me, I began looking forward to going to work each day just to be in his company. We worked in the same office at the airport. He was extremely intelligent with figure work and he had held a responsible position for many years. He did all the documentation of the weight and balance of the aircraft and he was responsible for the allocation of the loading of all the cargo. He also had to calculate the amount of fuel that it required for the next sector. He was in constant communication with the pilots. He had a good brain for figures and he had proved to be excellent at his work. It was the only work Peter had ever done and he was totally dedicated to the airline.

He was one of the handsomest and most eligible bachelors I had ever met. He stood more than six feet tall and he had the ability to melt any girl with his piercing blue eyes. His mannerism and quiet spoken voice gave an impression that he was the perfect gentleman. His jet black hair was always immaculately combed. The airline’s uniform of a dark suit with gold striped epaulettes and cap, complimented his exceptionally good looks.

He portrayed the perfect partner with his gentle, affectionate nature. I reveled in the envy of all my colleagues and secretly gloated in my achievement of having such a perfect suitor. He was eleven years my senior, so I thought the age difference would not be a problem. He was financially stable, and he appeared to be the perfect match for me.

Dreams flooded my brain of a perfect future with my dream man. I often wondered whether it was too good to be true and this led to me looking forward to my marriage to him. We had dated for only three months before he proposed to me and we had set our wedding date for six months later.

I was young, vulnerable and yet so captivated by him, that I never even considered anything would ever go wrong. I had found the perfect man and I was convinced that we would live happily ever after.

However, there had been a few incidences in the past few months that concerned me about Peter. I thought that, once we would be married, they would be totally irrelevant.

After all, he was going to make vows to me at the altar to have and to hold; to love and to cherish, to protect me and to live together for better or for worse, until death do we part, so any concerns that I might have about him then would not be a problem. I was under the impression that vows are meant to be sacred and to be upheld no matter what.

However, experience should have been the teacher and I should have learnt from other peoples’ marriages. My immaturity led me to believe that ours would be the perfect marriage and that nothing would mar our love for each other. Peter would be the perfect husband and that our love would survive and conquer all. After all, perfect love endures and conquers all. It was this understanding that I relied on and upon this foundation that I built my hope and trust. I looked forward to the security of a sound marriage, a beautiful home and a rosy future with the man of my dreams.

Emotions began tearing at my heart as I suddenly recalled past events, bringing tears to my eyes. My father had always been the most loving, caring and soft hearted person I had ever known. He would take the shirt off his back and give it to someone in need. He was a dedicated husband, excellent provider and exceptionally hard worker.

What was it about this sixty-three year old man, handsome in his day with graying hair?

He stood six foot tall with a rounded figure. He wore his hair in the short back and sides hairstyle, held in place with Brylcream. He was exceptionally smartly dressed with collar and tie being his dress code. He wore a hat wherever he went and everyone regarded him as the perfect gentleman. His image was always immaculate.

He did believe in old fashioned values and he ruled the family with a firm hand. He demanded respect from his children and always installed good life values. He made us understand the value of having a good character.

Yet, it was his weaknesses and faults that led to my insecurity. For more years than I could remember, he had suffered from high blood pressure and together with an extremely bad temper, he was unable to control his emotions and so as a result he abused my mother terribly both physically and emotionally.

Over the years his abuse progressively worsened, so much so, that the family lived in fear of his next outburst of rage and the horrific physical torture that my mother would have to endure. So many times she had to seek medical treatment for the damage he had caused. Her being hospitalized was a frequent occurrence in our home.

At all times, my mother would put on a brave face. She would defend him, in fear of being beaten to a pulp if she ever revealed the source of her injuries. She dared not defend herself, as he would use his strength to hit and kick her, smashing and breaking whatever he could lay his hands on. His excuse in defense of his actions was that, due to his extremely high blood pressure, he had no control over his emotions, temper and actions.

I recalled my first memory of abuse as far back as a toddler. I had always tried to keep the peace and to try to come between the beatings so that my mother would not get hurt, yet my young, weak body was not enough to stand up against my father’s strength. He was not a drinker so his outbursts could not be blamed on alcohol abuse. My three brothers were a lot older than I was and they were always at work or out the house at friends when the attacks took place. Many neighbours and family members were aware of his outbursts and his abuse, yet nobody dared do anything about it.

This emotional and physical abuse continued for all my life. I often had great difficulty concentrating at school as I feared for my mother’s life. I would pray the day through and wished time away so that I could go home. I was also afraid, as to what waited for me once I got home, always secretly hoping that a more peaceful and happy atmosphere would prevail, especially if I had tests and examinations to study for.

The family learnt to live with it and as a result his behavior became, in a manner of speaking, acceptable.

After his many outrageous and violent attacks, he would calm down and become rather subdued and silent. He would even isolate himself in the garden. Maybe he was ashamed or embarrassed, I did not know.

This affected my whole life and my recollections of my father were always marred by bad incidences that had taken place. Despite his occasional outbursts, I loved him dearly. He was so soft hearted and his passion for birds was second to none.

Over the years he accumulated a wide variety of wild birds, pheasants, parrots, ducks and doves. The back yard was filled with aviaries and enclosures. He was known throughout the country for his collection of birds. He continually added other species. Buck, crested cranes and squirrels were also amongst the variety of animals and birds that created the paradise garden that everyone came from far and wide to admire.

His passion didn’t only include birds, but gardening as well. My parents’ garden and green houses were absolutely breathtaking. They shared the passion for nature and creating beauty. Their landscaping and the vast collection of beautiful plants and flowers made their garden look like a nature reserve, complimenting the aviaries. They derived much pleasure from their hard work and I would watch them work together as a team creating beauty from nothing. I admired their dedication and devotion and I wished that someday that I would be able to acquire such fulfillment from a lovely garden as they had.

Everyone knew my mother as an excellent cook and baker. Her talents did not end in the kitchen however, she delighted herself in the garden and making the house beautiful. Over the years she had studied and attained many distinctions and diplomas for her outstanding embroidery. She was a master at her craft and all the family benefited from the works of her hands. She was never to be seen with idle hands. It was always a tablecloth, tray cloth or some other Irish linen design that she busied herself with, creating the most beautiful pieces of work. Everyone was proud to own one or more of her works of art in their homes. Being the only daughter, she filled my kist with a trousseau of beautiful tablecloths, tea showers and many more useful items that I could use in my home.

Her creativeness was limitless as she passed all her skills onto me. She taught me to crochet, knit, sew, dressmaking together with cooking and baking. Many of the skills are not recognized in today’s world, but nonetheless it was good having the knowhow and the experience that goes along with it. I never thought that I would ever have the need to use many of the crafts that she taught me, as they appeared to be rather outdated. However, as the years passed, many of them came back into fashion and I was grateful at having the ability and knowledge to do them. As with clothing, if you keep something long enough, it comes back in fashion again. The same rule would apply with arts and crafts. I have seen many techniques being reintroduced.

I learnt from her example and I will always endeavor to pass it onto my children in the future. She would ensure that before my father arrived home from work, she would be neat and tidy, with her hair brushed and lipstick on. Not only did she take exceptional pride in their home but also in her appearance. She would always say to me Your man may read the menu elsewhere, but he must eat at home. She was a strong, powerful woman who endured much hardships being married to my father, yet she faced each day with new enthusiasm and always tried to hold the family together through thick and thin.

In spite of the physical and emotional abuse from time to time, my parents loved each other. They had been married for fifty years and they had endured many trials and tribulations and they had managed to overcome many obstacles in their lives. Their marriage was strong and they did try to be good parents in their own ways. They would hold hands whenever they went out and they had pet names for each other. I enjoyed the times when love prevailed in our home.

As I stood staring out the window, feeling like a princess in my beautiful white wedding gown, the veil and lace train sweeping across the bedroom floor, questions began flooding me. Will I be able to leave my mother in the hands of my father? What if he killed her? I wouldn’t be there to protect her! So many times I had prevented her from my father’s blows by jumping in between them. I thought to myself; I can’t spend the rest of my life defending her and being the peace maker, surely I am also entitled to a life of joy and happiness?"

The older my father got, it seemed that his temper and his outbursts worsened. The doctor told my mother that the more his arteries calcified, the higher his blood pressure went, the more pressure was on his brain. He often told us that the pain he was experiencing in his brain was terrible and that the medication he took had had little effect. He would say that he could not help feeling irritable, yet his abuse continued.

I had witnessed so much physical and verbal abuse and now I had found love with someone who offered me a recluse away from the situation that had made me so unhappy for so many years. I saw it as a solution to escape so that I would not have to experience the same life as my mother had to endure all the years in secret from the outside world.

I asked myself how I would live with myself if anything had to happen to my mother and whether I should go through with the marriage. I took the responsibility of being my mother’s protector and together we kept the secret from everyone.

Two weeks prior to my wedding my father’s brand new car got stolen. The shock of the ordeal and its timing could not have come at a more inconvenient time. He was not long on pension when he had purchased the car with his lump sum payout. He would not easily be able to afford to replace it with another car equivalent to what he had. The news was devastating and it contributed to his bad state of health. He suffered a major setback and he was hospitalized for a few days leaving us to cope with the wedding arrangements.

Trista ! The photographer is here! Are you ready yet? I heard my father call from the lounge. He opened the bedroom door and saw me standing there with tear filled eyes. He had a lump in his throat as he fought back the tears. I was torn between my parents and the man I loved! He did not question my tears, as he stood staring at me, taking in the moment. You look beautiful my girl and he gave me a loving hug and kiss.You still have time to change your mind you know! he said over his shoulder as he walked out the room.

I caught a