Sweet Journey

By Aisha De Irish-Hamilton

“Sweet” grows up in a middle class two parent home with a great support system. She attends great schools and holds on to good morals. That is until she meets new friends and lovers that would influence her and her future greatly. She gets involved in a world of drugs, alcohol, dirty money, sexual immorality, and lewdness. She had even escaped death. When she begins to lose people and material things in her life, she goes on what she may believe to be a down ward spiral. She loses her self-esteem and all hope, causing herself to go into a depression. She will learn that she cannot fight this fight alone. Her life has purpose and she will experience a sweet journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781728351742

Aisha De Irish-Hamilton

From Bronx, New York to Bridgeport, Connecticut, I’ve had the opportunity to come in contact with those from many walks of life. Regardless of where we come from and what we look like, what we have and have not, we all experience joy and pain, good times and bad the same. Mountains will always block our view and stand in our way. It is essential that we know that there is a living God that moves mountains. Let him lead the way!

Book preview

Chapter 1

I remember at the age of five, being tucked in by my mother one winter night in the Bronx. It’s the night that I would realize just how different I was. My father was in school to obtain a masters’ degree in social work, usually leaving my mother and me home by ourselves late two nights a week. I was very fidgety and sweaty. I got these visions of my uncle that lived in Mississippi. It was strange because I had only really remembered seeing him twice before in my young life. I was afraid of what I was seeing and cried so much. My mother had no idea what had come over me. She asked me over and over again what was wrong. I could not even answer. It’s like no words would come out of my mouth no matter how hard I tried.

There he was, Uncle Tay. He was long and slender in size. Brown skinned and handsome. He was no older than nineteen years old or so. I could see him and two other guys shooting craps in front of a shack-like establishment, that I later found had been a bar. He was gambling and taking everybody’s money. There was a chubby short man with braided hair that kept yelling something. I had finally made it out as him saying stop gambling in front of my place he had a really deep southern drawl. Uncle Tay continued doing what he wanted anyway, ignoring the man. Soon afterwards, a very good looking woman had passed him. She kept trying to enter the bar, but my uncle kept grabbing her arm. He had really wanted her. She told him over and over to let her go and that she had a man. He ignored her and was very persistent. It was clear that he was drunk. His friends tried talking to him, but his mind was set. The woman finally managed to get away from him, and went into the bar. On her way in he called her all types of bitches and whores. She was upset of course. Just a brief moment later, the woman came back outside with the chubby guy that had asked him to move. Turns out he was not only the owner, but the woman’s husband. The man was furious. He had disrespected him and his wife. The man pulled out a knife and my uncle pulled out a gun. The man reacted so fast, my uncle was dead within seconds. He had been stabbed in the chest twice and once in the throat. He didn’t even have a chance. The man had been very drunk as well. That’s how the whole thing went down. The weirdest thing about it all, was that when my uncle hit the ground to his death, it’s like he looked right at me. He gave me a look like I could save him or something. It was crazy.

Now my mother was standing over me debating on whether or not to call 911. She was panicking. She said that she thought it to be a seizure at first, but I had composed myself too quickly. I had been breathing heavily like I would have after a nightmare. I told her what had happened to me and what I saw. At that moment, I knew that she had not believed me. She said she would stay with me until I fell asleep, assuming that I did in fact have just a nightmare. I had almost convinced myself that I had had one too. But this was just all too real.

I couldn’t sleep peacefully, and I was still sweaty. My body was warm (according to my mother) so as soon as my father got home, she went to a 24 hour pharmacy to get medicine for me. My dad (who was my whole world) came in the room and kept wiping my neck, forehead, and face with a cool wet rag. Then, the phone rang. He said to me with his thick Jamaican accent Sweet, daddy soon come back. The phone is ringing. He went into the kitchen to answer the phone. I could hear him from my bedroom. The apartment was only but so big. He said over and over again Jesus Christ. How can I tell Sharon this? I ran to the door to see what was up. He only sent me back to my room. He didn’t even come back into the room when he got off the phone. He sat on the sofa rubbing his head. I knew that he was doing some heavy thinking. That’s the way he was.

My mother returned with a little yellow plastic bag that contained my medicine and some ruby red lipstick. No wonder it took her so long to get back from the store that was less than two blocks away. Suppose I was dying? That woman just loved looking good. I could tell that she was excited and ready to give me the medicine so that she could go through all of her outfits to see which ones looked nice with her new lipstick. I was still watching from the door. She saw me come here sweet, lemme give you your medicine baby no no no sweet go in your room for a moment, I need to talk to mommy my father said. I saw his face before going back into the room, and his eyes were red and glassy. I guess my mother then noticed too because her face looked as if to say What’s goin on? I closed my door, but listened through the wall. My father had told her exactly what I had seen in my vision. My mother let out a scream and I could hear the plastic bag drop on the floor. I was hurting for her. This was the night that I first knew that I had something that everyone did not.

My mom was not herself for a little while. Her brother was very close to her. They only had one other sister from their parents, but she never really liked home. She was very light skin and had green eyes. She could pass for white, I guess due to my half white grandmother. She always thought that she was better than the rest of them. She only kept white friends and boyfriends. She would only show them younger pictures of her white grandmother and pass it on as her mother. She never brought anyone home. So when she was old enough to leave home, she got married and never went back. She hated being black. It was difficult to be black living in the Deep South at that time. To this day no one has ever seen her white husband and children. So now my mother was all alone. She would miss her little brother so dearly. We were on the first flight to Mississippi to say goodbye….

I looked out the window at the friendly skies. I was excited because it would be the first time that I would remember. I had gone to Jamaica twice before that, but I was a baby. My mother was out of it still, but I asked her if uncle Tay was further up in the sky. I thought that’s where heaven was. In her state, she nonchalantly asked my father do you know that sweet told me word for word how my brother died? I didn’t even believe her, but she was right…..she was absolutely right I nodded my head yes. its true daddy and it scared me at first, but I’m ok now. He gave both my mother and me a crazy look. He looked behind him to make sure no one was looking or listening to us. He said to my mother Look Sharon, I know you’re going through some things right now, but watch what you say. People will think that you are crazy. They will lock you up and put you in Bellevue, especially now that you have sweet believing this too. I hope to Father God you are not going crazy. I kept insisting daddy it’s true, I saw it. He put his hand over my mouth. My mom didn’t even care what he said. She was going through so many emotions. My father was working as a social worker and had seen so many things. He saw children getting taken away from their mentally unstable parents almost every day, and didn’t want that for me. But it made him so paranoid. I would tell him of many visions, but he was always a skeptic. He always warned me not to tell people anything like that, because they would call me crazy. I grew tired of trying to make him believe me and him believing that maybe I was crazy. That’s when my mother and I decided to no longer tell him of any of my visions. My mother believed me, and she also believed that I had a gift from God.

Chapter 2

O ne Sunday morning in January when I was eight years old, I received some news that I didn’t want to believe to be true. I had to find out at church of all places, and not from the mouths of my parents. The message was change. The pastor put emphasis on how change was good. He said that when God said to move, we had to move. What I did not know, was how literal that pertained to me and my family. After a few selections, Pastor Palmer asked that my family stand up. I didn’t know what was going on. I looked over at my parents and my new baby brother Joshua. I saw my heavy set and constantly sweaty Pastor walk over towards us with the oil in his hands. He stopped for a second and signaled for us to meet him halfway. Now I really had to see where this was going. Pastor then started. Sisters and brothers let’s pray for the Moore family. Let’s keep them in our hearts and pray that God covers them, keeps them, and continue to bless them abundantly as they begin a new chapter of their lives in Connecticut. What!? I yelled. My father pinched me almost as soon as I said it. It was almost as if he knew that I was going to react. I knew nothing about Connecticut. We talked about it briefly in my third grade social studies class. I knew it was the constitution state, and that it was small. That’s all I knew. As the pastor began to put oil on each of our heads and pray, I still continued to ask. Why mommy when she ignored me, I turned to my dad and asked the same question. Even as I continued getting pinched, I continued asking. The stings no longer fazed me. I was upset and full of questions. I gave up and put my head down. My pink and white hair beads covered my face. As a tear began to flow, I had a vision. I saw a slightly overweight girl that looked to be my age. She was a brunette with dark eyes and cute little freckles. She reminded me of one of my favorite television characters, Punky Brewster. I envisioned us with rubber boots on running up a snowy hill. Once we got to the top of the hill, we would sit on trash can tops and slide down the hill in circular motions. I was excited to be making a friend, but I could not get over the fact that I had to move. I loved the Bronx and at that moment it felt like life was over for me.

Pastor Palmer made it harder for me the more he spoke. It was like pouring salt on the wound. Brother Donald, thank you for being our Mr. Fixit. You’ve done everything from screwing in light bulbs to the plumbing and landscaping. You have also been here encouraging many of the young men here in the house of God. We appreciate your encouragement, and years of service to our church home. God has had a way with you. He has favor on you and will continue blessing you as the man and the head of your household. We also thank the woman in your life that prayed consistently for you to enter the house of God when you were in your mess. She came to church as a praise team instructor while studying dance and theatre at NYU. The Lord had his way with her. She said Broadway, but the Lord said his way. Thank you Lord! Hallelujah!! Last but not least, the little ones. Little sister Sweet. We want you to continue making the honor roll and making your parents proud. God smiles on you. And right now he is telling me to tell you to always seek him when the sun arises’ ‘(I would only later in life understand what that prophecy truly meant). Pastor then reached for baby Josh. Josh reached for his full beard and smiled. You are special. So young, so innocent, so precious. Life for you little one, is just beginning. You will bring joy to all those you come across. He gave the baby a kiss on the cheek and smiled before giving him back to my mother. I wish that I could feel as happy and joyous as my baby brother seemed. That was the last I would see Lamb of God church and Pastor Palmer.

A couple days later, my father and his brother Uncle Travis arrived in an orange and white moving truck. My mother and Uncle Travis’ wife, aunt Pam sat in the apartment sipping tea while surrounded by boxes. This would be their last time chillin in that apartment together. I was still having a hard time. I walked around moping. Daddy and Uncle Travis had been in and out of the place moving the boxes and furniture. The emptier the place became, the more I began to feel butterflies in my belly. I knew that time was growing nearer once my mother and Auntie Pam finished their tea and washed the kettle to pack it away. Judging by their conversation, my mother was excited to be leaving the boogie down, and my aunt was happy for her. They made plans to visit at least once a month, and that seemed strange to me. At that time I didn’t realize how close we would still be to the city.

With all my attention seeking, Uncle Travis was the only one that gave in. He knew that I didn’t want to leave. I usually spent a lot of time with him. He was also my God father. When his kids came on the weekends from Brooklyn, we had such a great time. I wondered if my cousins would be with him the weekends that he decided to come see us in Connecticut. Auntie Pam was not their birth mom, but she was constantly fighting with their two mothers. Those women had no right to fight with Aunt Pam, they slept with her husband. She was married to Uncle Travis for at least fifteen years at the time. Anyway, Uncle Travis has given me a cassette to listen to. It was Bob Marley. I put it into my fairly new Walkman, and before I pressed play, my uncle told me to play number four. He said that that song usually got him through plenty of hard times. As I fast forward to number four, I heard the sweet tune of the musical genius don’t worry…about a thing…..cuz every little thing…..is gonna be alright. I pressed stop and looked up at my uncle who was already smiling. I gave him half a smile, but thought to myself easy for you to say, you have women fighting over you all the time. Most men would hardly call that stressful. He then picked me up and gave me a big hug. His dreads covered my little face. I could smell the bees wax. For some reason I liked that smell.

We all gave hugs and kisses and jumped in the truck. I sat next to my baby brother who was all bundled up in a sky blue snowsuit with a little giraffe on the front. My mother was in the front seat brushing her hair in the mirror. I looked over at my dad, and he was finding his radio station before taking off. He turned to me and asked me ready princess? I just nodded and turned my attention to the window. As I looked out, I began to think. I saw all the places I would miss. First there was Marco’s pizza. It was the best in all New York. One slice was equivalent to two elsewhere. Every Friday night, my mother and I would go there and pick up a pie. It would always be half mushroom and half pepperoni. Whenever Marco himself was there, he would give me a free cherry slushy. He said it was because of my charming smile and cute dimples, but I knew it was because he liked my mother. Everyone liked my mother. She was very pretty and was in great shape. After all, she was a dancer. Thinking of Marco’s was making my mouth water. I then turn to my left, and see Sandy’s place. It was the best Jamaican restaurant ever. I stand by that still til this day. Sandy and my dad were longtime friends. Their families had been friends for generations. Sandy was big and round. Her big broad smile exposed a mouth full of gold caps. She was a big woman with a big heart. Any food left at the end of the night would be distributed to the homeless by her or her adult sons. My dad went over there at least twice a week to play dominoes with all the old school Jamaicans. They reminisce about growing up in Jamaica, watched football (soccer) and cricket matches on television, and drank rum. When my mother went to work at the dance studio on the weekends, I would go over to the restaurant with my dad to play dominoes. I was always the only child there. My father would sometimes let me play his hand to master the game. The men would hate losing to me because I was a kid, but my father had me focused since the age of three. I was very wise when it came to my favorite game. This also meant that I learned math at an early age. You have to know the numbers in order to win. The men even tried cheating me, but I knew all the tricks in the book. I called them out on hiding a domino in their sleeves or under the table. At that very moment, I had an outburst. Where can we play dominoes now daddy? We don’t know Connecticut. There are only farms. No Jamaicans, no ackee and saltfish (my favorite), nothing. And in my father’s usual calm and cool voice, he said plenty of Jamaicans mon, nuff salt fish. Jus cool mon. My mother then gave her input. You are a young lady anyway. You don’t need to be around a bunch of men gambling while they smoke their ganja and drink. Maybe now you can be the daughter, we already have our son. Think about school for now Sweet. I didn’t like what she had to say. I pouted and folded my arms. I could hear my mother whispering to my father It’s your fault that she likes those types of things and he whispered back in response but babes, she’s good. And play better than a lot of the men I know too. She shook her head, and directed her attention to a magazine that rested on her lap. I played the tape that my uncle gave me over and over. This thing was happening whether I liked it or not.

Before I knew it, the scenery changed. The air was very clean and crisp. I thought I was in New Rochelle or something. I was wrong. I was in Connecticut. I had seen the sign. When I realized how close we really were to New York, I had begun to feel a little better. Maybe the song was right. Maybe everything was really gonna be alright.

Once we got into the town of Rockport (where we would be living), we got a little anxious. Many areas reminded us of the Bronx. There were areas that had project housing, and there were upper and middle class areas. I did not expect any of it. Through it all, we came upon a pretty pastel colored house on a hill. It was not too big, and not too small. I was excited about it, but I couldn’t let my parents know that. When the truck stopped, I ran to the spacious backyard. I couldn’t hide my excitement. When I looked behind me, my mother was not far behind. We did not have a backyard to play in the city. Sometimes we would go to the park. The yard we now had was the size of the park. I went crazy when I saw a tire swing hanging from the tree. I had always dreamed of having one. Although it was winter time, and snow was everywhere including the tire swing, I went for it. I swung on the swing, and didn’t care that my butt was wet and freezing. My mother was too busy trying to figure out where to grow her flowers and veggies in the spring. She got right down to business. When she finally realized what I was doing, she ordered me off the swing. I was about to get myself in trouble by talking back, when my dad came towards us with baby Josh in his carrier. "Did you all forget something? ‘’ he asked. We looked at the baby with his bright eyes and smiling face, and we laughed. We then somehow broke into a snowball fight, and had so much fun. That day turned out so much better than I expected. I was actually looking forward to my new life. The family scene displayed outside in the snow looked like a painting and felt like a fairy tale.

I could not help but feel like I was being watched for a while. I looked up twice and saw nothing. There was a big window in the house right next door. Every time I looked up, the person moved back quickly. I knew this because the blinds would jump back in place and the curtains moved. When I finally met eyes with the person watching, I was happy. It was a familiar face. It was the girl that I saw in my vision while at church. She was laughing at the snowball fight. I waved and she waved back. I waved her over, and she signaled for me to wait a minute. I guess she was getting permission. Seconds later, she came over with a good looking white woman and a well-built chocolate man. They introduced themselves to my family and welcomed us to the neighborhood. My future best friends’ name was Ashley, her mother’s name was Wendy, and the handsome chocolate man was her step father Wayne. He was a Jamaican just like my dad. We already had something in common. And on that night Ashley’s family came over and we all ate Chinese food on top of boxes and crates. We had such a great time. Miss Wendy seemed so fun and Mr. Wayne loved her so very much. He loved Ashley like she was his own, and together they made a wonderful family.

Chapter 3

A s time went on, Ashley stayed