Dear Nadia: from a Mother's Love

By Lisa S. Gagnon

If you think lottery winning does not change your life, think again. After what happened
to Lisa S Gagnon in the past, she knows what she is talking about.
She met a gentleman named, Mustafa who she thought was the perfect man for her
life. He was caring, compassionate, and understanding. This was what she was looking
for all along. He immigrated to Canada from Lebanon in the 1970s.
Mustafa and she got married eventually and from their union was born two sweet
children named Amina and Nadia on the dates of 1987 and 1991 respectively.
Knowing Mustafa for eight years, suddenly decides to go to Lebanon for a family
trip. He claimed his life was chaotic and could not think clearly anymore and that he
needed to get away from the turmoil to get everything straighten out again. He said
Lebanon would be the proper place to do this because he had family there and had
their support.
Lisa decides to go with him and the children, for fear the children wont have their
mother and she didnt have a choice of say in the matter.
Stranded, living in fear with a trusted man she thought she knew, now was becoming
more possessive and controlling daily.
Being betrayed by him, she could not leave Lebanon.
She was on a mission like no other to leave with her children. An opportunity arises
but turmoil follows.
This riveting novel will tear your heart apart like no other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456853891

Lisa S. Gagnon

Lisa Susan Gagnon was born February 09, 1966 in Paspbiac, Quebec, Canada. Lisa studied in Montreal to be a Pharmacy Technician. She moved to Alberta Canada where she currently resides with her son Mathieu. She speaks English, French, and Arabic. Currently she is a published author who also does freelance writing. She has other books waiting to be published.

Book preview

Dear Nadia:

From A Mother’s Love

Lisa S. Gagnon

Copyright © 2011 by Lisa S. Gagnon.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011900755

ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-4568-5388-4

ISBN: Softcover 978-1-4568-5387-7

ISBN: Ebook 978-1-4568-5389-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

90653

Contents

Chapter 1

The Beginning

Chapter 2

Meeting Mustafa

Chapter 3

Custody Battle

Chapter 4

Confusion

Chapter 5

Fear

Chapter 6

Lottery Winnings

Chapter 7

The Mother in law

Chapter 8

During the stay in Lebanon

Chapter 9

Leaving Lebanon

Chapter 10

Arriving in Canada

Chapter 11

Betrayed

Chapter 12

Foreign Affairs

chapter 13

Missing

Chapter 14

Gone

Chapter 15

My life in Montréal

Chapter 16

Moving on

Chapter 17

Meeting Harley

Chapter 18

Self Help

Chapter 19

My Evil Mother

Chapter 20

Family intervenes

Chapter 21

The Move

Chapter 22

Moving In

Chapter 23

Settling in

Chapter 24

Amina leaves home

Chapter 25

Sarah (Sally) Loewen

Chapter 26

Henry Bergen

Chapter 27

Adoption of Harley

Chapter 28

Harley’s New Parents

Chapter 29

Family Activities

Chapter 30

Eight years later

Chapter 31

Henry Unruh

Chapter 32

Family Ties

Chapter 33

Family Crisis

Chapter 34

Sally’s Recovery

Chapter 35

Sally’s Home Visit

Chapter 36

Sally’s Ordeals

Chapter 37

Sally’s Relapse

Chapter 38

Moving away from Sally

Chapter 39

Sally last visit

Chapter 40

Two Years Later

Chapter 41

Sally’s last

Chapter 42

Relationship on the rocks

Chapter 43

My father’s passing

Chapter 44

Nadia

chapter 45

Obituaries

A message to the government

Author Bio

The ground at the foot of the Christ’s cross is level,

So no one is above anyone else

Acts 15: 9

DEDICATION

To my children Mathieu Gagnon and Candace Sarah Bergen for their patience and support. Amina Sakar (Amina Dawn Olfert) and Nadia Sakkar (Sakar).

In memory of Sally (Sarah) Bergen (Unruh) and Henry Unruh, for spending time with them at a time when not only did they need support, but I did too. May they rest in peace.

In memory of my Father, Jean-Yves Gagnon. I love you. May he rest in peace.

I would like to thank Rodney Kruse for his time and extensive effort on this project.

I would like to thank anyone who has given me any information that helped perpare this book.

I would like to thank Jesse Dean, Hairdresser, who works at Rumors Salon & Day Spa, Taber, Alberta. She did a wonderful job.

I would like to thank Glen Pearson, Photography, who works at Puremojo studios, Taber, Alberta.

He did a wonderful job.

May God bless you.

CHAPTER 1

The Beginning

OUR FAMILY CONSISTED of: Grandfather, Cléophas Gagnon born October 06, 1895, and his wife Marie Duret grandmother. My father, Jean-Yves Gagnon was born February 12, 1931. His father taught him to be a blacksmith. My mother, Sybil Norma Gallant September 18, 1947. She was a stay home mom. They married on February 12, 1965.

The siblings were: Keith, born September 16, 1964; Lisa Suzan Gagnon, born February 09, 1966; Tina Chantal Gagnon, born June 15, 1968; Marcel Jean-Yves Gagnon, born on November 25, 1971; and Larry Elmer Astels, born December 16, 1980.

Once I was playing with a wagon wheel made out of iron, it fell on my foot and I was crying. My grandfather came and picked me up for a piggy back ride to the house. It was fun. Then he gave me a quarter.

He also was Roman Catholic and very practicing in his beliefs.

He passed away of a heart attack at home in 1970. At that time I remember the priest coming to the house. We laid my grandfather out in the living room on a green leather bed, Keith and I pulled off his woollen socks he had two layers.

My grandmother made us eggnogs. Then we were told to sit in the living room on the couch and not to move off. We saw the priest come in and go to my grandfather’s room and, shut the door. The priest left and we never seen my grandfather again. As time went on my grandmother moved away. She left and went to live in Québec city with her daughters and I never seen her again. She died at the age of 102 years old.

After all this my father and mother had a lot of parties at home, drinking, fighting, upsetting tables, throwing cups. It was chaotic.

Then she left and sought a divorce in 1975, when I was nine

After my mother left we lived with our dad all four children, then my mother met another man and had another baby and his name was Larry Elmer Astels. He at one time lived with my mother but a couple years later went to live with his grandparents Willa and Elmer Astels of New-Carlisle, Quebec.

Sometimes Larry visited my mom and she always came and got me at my dad’s. I loved my little brother he was cute and funny. Larry was not well treated by my mother, so I had to be his saviour. I always despised the way she treated him. Scaring him, putting him in the bathroom with lights out and door locked for a punishment for not listening. I would actually tell her you are sick and leave Larry out of the bathroom.

Another incident when she lived in Montreal. Larry wanted to bring his tricycle down the steps he must have been four or five at the time, he was getting frustrated and angry because he could not get it down.

So I asked, Where is Larry?

She answered, Outside.

I went out in time. He just threw his tricycle down the steps and tumbled down and landed on the concrete cement banging his head I was so scared, and terrified I ran down the steps crying, and call my mom in a panic.

She came out asking, What is going on?

I said, Call the ambulance Larry fell down the steps and banged his head and there is a big lump.

She stood at the top of the steps looking down and said, why should I call the ambulance? He is not dead!

I picked Larry up off the ground, held him in my arms and took him up the steps. He sat on my knee the whole time until I called the ambulance. I was scared for him, poor little fellow. We got into the ambulance and the technicians thought I was his mother because they asked me all the questions about him.

They did keep him overnight for observation and I stayed with him while my mother went home.

One day when I came home from school I was 11 years old at my dad’s he said, Do not go anywhere the social worker is coming today to pick you up.

Like usual I looked to see if my father had made supper and there was none. I wondered why. I said, What does she want with me today?

He said, To take you for a ride. Then she appeared in the driveway and came into the house.

She looked at me and asked, Are you ready?

I was shocked and said, For what?

She said, You will need your clothes and I will be explaining it to you.

I looked at my father and he did not say anything. I remember him sitting at the end of the table looking straight at the TV while his cigarette was burning away in the astray. Keith left a few weeks before and we were never informed. My father never said anything. Then I left with the social worker. Once we crossed the crossings of the train tracks she said, "I am bringing you to a foster home in Saint-Siméon-de-Bonaventure, Québec.

I said, I want to go home!

She said, Sorry your dad could not handle you anymore, like not listening to curfew hours, and liking boys and hanging around boys, and such.

So this is why we are here. We got to the home and I was upset and I did not want to stay there.

Two weeks later I called my mother and said come and get me I am not staying here. She did come but had to bring me back until they found me another family.

This was in St-Alphonse de Caplan, Québec.

They asked if I wanted to be placed with my brother, Keith, and I figured what a great idea at least I will be with my brother. He treated me awful. I was bullied, punched; I had bruises on my shoulder from his punches. He would laugh at it and thought it was so funny while I cried and told him to stop.

He would not listen to the family, so they sent him somewhere else. They decided to keep me with them. They had a grocery store, Tabagie and they ran buses for schools.

At the age of fourteen I was told Keith Embert Gagnon was allegedly not my full brother, same mother but not the same father. I was devastated. My father knew but never told anyone, he preferred not too, raised him as his own while knowing he was a disgrace to his family. Born from another man, it happens my mother was pregnant when she met my father in a bar and they got married before Keith was born so he could take my father’s name and no one would know the truth, but everyone knew except us.

Keith, as far as I remember back was always trying to hurt me all the time. Plalying a game called knuckles. When his turn came up and he could hit my knuckles and the back of my hand he would hit so hard and twist the skin on the top of my hand so hard it turned red and I cried. Then he would say I was a baby for crying.

Another incident before leaving for foster care was he liked getting me to follow him to see his friends and as a group they would grab me by the legs and arms each guy holding me down, like one for each leg and one for each arm and have fun grabbing my boobs and laughing. While he sat back and laughed and watched. Then he says I deserved it and liked it.

He would actually set up the place and told them to meet him there and he will be coming with me. It had took place another time but this time one of the group spoke up and said leave her alone, but they still didn’t stop. This person did not participate this time.

Up until today I still do not have any communication with Keith, I do not consider him a brother and never did.

Later on, I was sent to reform school, which is also, known as group home in Matane, Québec called La Villa Dion where I was there until I turned eighteen.

CHAPTER 2

Meeting Mustafa

AFTER LEAVING MATANE, at the age of eighteen, I moved to Montreal, Quebec, and met Mustafa.

I was an employee for Mustafa at the time we started going out for suppers and bars after closing hours of his dépanneur. He had a drinking problem at the time, but I did not see it. He never mentioned that he was married. He just said he separated from his ex-wife and needed treatment in the hospital. He never mentioned he had kids; he had two children, one was five and the other two years old.

One day, this person comes into the dépanneur with two children and they had a conversation. I did not understand the language, for it was in Arabic. The man left without the children; I thought it was his brother; it turned out to be his brother-in-law who was looking after his children.

I looked at Mustafa confusedly and asked, Whose children are these?

He looked at me and said, Mine! I just could not believe what I heard.

I was in shock, What do you mean yours?

I am their father, he said.

Why did you not tell me? I asked.

I thought it wasn’t important, he replied. I stood there not knowing what to say.

Well, what happens now? I asked.

He