Tell The Story

By Felicia Pearson

  This is the story of two generations suffering through hurt, pain, abuse, and displacement  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Felicia Pearson
• Release date: Jun 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781393572756

Felicia Pearson

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Book preview

You may discover yourself in this book; you may be enlightened by something in this book. You may have found yourself in the same position, had the same experiences, or you may have seen something similar. Perhaps you have a friend who has gone through a similar situation. Okay, you have a problem, and you're saying to yourself, how can this book solve my problem with childhood trauma? 

Start by changing your mindset and how you think. Renewing your mind by seeking. You should begin by knowing you are not to blame for the situation that was completely out of your control.

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Felicia Pearson, the youngest of three siblings, has been in the medical field for more than twenty-three years. An avid plant lover, she loves helping, nurturing, and encouraging people.

Creator of two successful podcasts, Unmasking the issues in relationships and Morning Coffee on Podbean, her Podcasts allow her to meet different people from different walks of life and travel to other hair salons and barbershops to carry out live interviews. She has learned much from the experiences, mistakes, and relationship horrors of her interviewees.

Dedications

To

Richard Andrews 

I dedicate this book to Richard Andrew. Richard, I want to thank you from the depths of my heart for inspiring me to put the book into existence. Thank you for believing in me, encouraging me, loving me, and being supportive. Thank you for the late-night conversations, the gut-busting laughs, teaching me how to detail, and daring me to think differently. Thank you for seeing the best in me and not giving up on me.

Acknowledgments

To

Richard Andrews

Angel Robinson

Jimmy Davis

Dr. Smith, Maasia

Thank you for answering my late-night calls, listening to my crazy ideas, laughing with me, crying with me, being supportive, and encouraging me to fight for my dreams. Daring me to dream the all-American dream, thank you.

The word legacy is one of the more commonly used words nowadays. Legacy refers to something that an individual leaves behind when they die for the generation to follow. A legacy can be filled with pain, molestation, and abuse. A legacy is something that has been handed down from one generation to the next by ancestors, predecessors, the ancient philosophers who have walked before us. It can be a gift delivered by a grandparent, parent, or another relative that may be in the form of money or property. There are some things that can be passed on from generation to generation. In the past, the generations of my family were based purely on survival, with no education given to the children on how to raise their family. In my opinion, this legacy should have been passed on to anyone who ends up inheriting it. In the past, I would ask myself, do these issues and problems only happen in African American families? My question was whether or not this is the case in Caucasian families or in other cultures around the world. 

TABLE OF CONTENT

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Chapter One

Barbara.................................................................

Jimmy.....................................................................

Jean Barbara............................................................

Chapter Two

Scotty.....................................................................

Francine....................................................................

Saundra.....................................................................

Chapter Three

Theft and Robber..........................................................

Suffering a trauma ...............................................29

Barbara-Jean Culinary School .....................................40

You Abandon Me

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My father dropped some seriously heavy shit on me that shook my entire world. These are two different generations. Listen while we tell the secrets of the family, different households, and the secret you dare not tell anyone.

The summer of 1968 in South Carolina was very hot and the humidity could get dangerous at times.  It was a normal school day. I am the oldest. My parents told me to wait for my brother and sisters. Make sure you walk home with them and hold their hands. I waited in the school yard for Jimmy, Barbara, Jackie, Barbara-Jean, and Francine. We all held hands as we walked home.  As we were getting closer I saw all of these people and lots of cars in front of the house, so I started walking fast. Francina was the youngest, and she said, You're walking too fast I cannot keep up!  I stopped in my track and told them to start running, and Jimmy asked me why. I told him, I have a bad feeling about something. We started running towards the house. As we got closer and closer, I heard someone crying. I could hear someone ask where the kids are.

Where is my mother?

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The night before my father and mother were arguing about our education and different places she wanted us to travel at a young age.  We have a big family and she wanted us to spend the summer at four different family members' houses. She wanted us to spend two weeks in New York, two weeks, in D.C., two weeks in Maryland, and two weeks in Virginia. My mother wanted each child to have the same experience until we got to a certain age. Then she wanted us to experience different schools. My mother wanted the best education for my brother, sisters, and me. My father wanted Jimmy to play baseball. Jimmy was the second child He wanted Jimmy and Scotty to have structure, and Scotty wanted to be a doctor. My father allowed Jimmy and Scotty to pick their careers, and my mother told the girls what their careers were going to be in life. They were not born into a rich family, so we have to help them any way we can.  My Father told my mother she was wrong for not allowing the girls to pick their careers.

They should have the right to pick their careers, my father told my mother, Their job should be to support them and supply the proper education. A father helps them in any way he can in life.

My father with a loud voice at school said they should be on their way home now. I remember as we ran up to our father, I asked what was wrong; my father asked why we were running. Was someone chasing you? I said, No dad, we saw far off all these people and cars so we started running home. My father told us to come into the house and go upstairs. He wanted to talk to all of us together. I and my siblings went upstairs and sat on the floor. Some sat on the bed while we waited for our father to come into the room and talk to us. Thirty minutes later the bedroom door opened slowly and my father walked into the bedroom.

He sat on the side of the bed and dropped his head, the smell of liquor reeking from him. Tears poured down his face like a river. He started to get choked up and could not speak. He cried like a baby before he could get a word out. Our mother died at the age of 45 years old, leaving behind 6 children, and Scotty who was the child born from the affair.

My father slid off the side of the bed onto the floor onto his knee crying with a loud voice, My wife died today! I got down onto the floor to comfort our father. My brother Jimmy looked at me, and I looked at my sibling and said to myself my mother is dead.  I began to cry, then my sibling began to cry after they saw me crying, my father got up off the floor, he sat back on the side of the bed, my father explained how white folks have priority and presidents before black folks.

He told us, with my shortness of breath, she was left in the hallway of the hospital while the white folks received the care they needed while my wife lay on a gurney in the hallway of the hospital dying.  She kept saying what about my children? What about my children?  As she coughed up blood, she gave me this long steer held my hand tight with blood sliding out the side of her mouth with sadness written all over her face leaving her family and friends behind. My father, sister, brother, and I sat in the room crying for hours. My father said he did not know what to do from here?  My father stood up and said he was going downstairs to talk to the family as he walked out of the room he turned around asked if we were hungry. We replied no, and he walked out the door shut behind him. We sat there in silence, looking at one another. My brother Jimmy said, Why did no one come to the school to come get us? I said, I don’t know why.  Daddy thought it probably was best for us to wait until we came home from school. I could hear people talking and laughing. My sibling and I stood at the top of the steps listening to my father, my Aunt Alice he may have to separate the kids, my father told my father we have to start planning my mother funeral start tomorrow morning it’s been a long day for me and the kids. Aunt Alice said she and Uncle Alejandro will be by in the morning at ten o’clock. People stayed until twenty o’clock.  More people from town were dropping off food and drinks in the house.  It was small-town Jacksonville, Florida, and everyone knows everyone. When family and friends finally left, my father came up stairs and stated tomorrow we will plain his wife and our mother's funeral. My father told us to come downstairs and eat something while he straightened up the house. There were liquor and beer bottles everywhere. There was a knock at the door; my father opened the door Mrs. Mattie rushed in. She was my mother’s best friend. She was out of town and she just heard about the passing of our mother. Mrs. Mattie apologized for

Tell The Story

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coming so late, she started crying and asking questions. My father told us to go to the kitchen to get something to eat. Before we went into the kitchen Mrs. Mattie jumped over her feet, bent down one knee, and kissed and hugged us all. She promised us everything was going to be okay. As we walked to the kitchen. I could hear Father telling Mrs. Mattie, he was planning a funeral tomorrow. I stood listening to the kitchen door. My father went into detail about the passing of our mother and how she lay in the hospital hallway with internal bleeding and shortness and shortness of breath. Grasping for hearing as tears rolled down her face. My father spent every moment holding my mother's hand as her spirit slipped from her body onto immortality. You know that feeling when someone is talking to you. You don’t even hear, and then you don’t even see their lips moving. Father recalls standing in the hallway after the hospital workers took my mother's body away feeling confused, helpless. At that point, he had to call someone to tell him what to do. Mrs. Mattie told my father she could help with the children and she could come over to make meals. Mrs. Mattie asked my father if he knew what he wanted to do for the funeral. My fathers called into the living room, bring me some paper so I can write on and pen. Barbara-Jean was my dad’s favorite. She ran upstairs to get a pen and paper for my father. There was a knocking at the front door and my father went to answer it. It was Mrs. Mattie's husband. He told their father came as soon