**FEATURED ON WATTPAD's UNDISCOVERED GEMS**
Janey Cameron's life is falling apart
Caught in the middle of her parent's tragic marriage she has no one to turn to and finds herself searching the woods at the family's summer lake house looking for c...
I have been drowning in self-pity this last year, wondering how I shall continue. And regretfully I've been an abysmal mother in the absence of Patrick's father. He's been left to fend mostly for himself. Of course we have staff, but J. I feel that I have altered the trajectory of his life by my actions. It makes me even more sorrowful, knowing he's had to grieve his father but then also deal with the abandonment of his mother. But that's the nature of us all, isn't it. We're merely the product of our upbringing. I know my father and mother altered me irrevocably over the course of my early years. I hope I can regain some of the ground I've lost with him, before it's too late.
I do feel like I'm beginning to see the opportunities that may still be available to me again though. I am only just forty-eight years old. I have a ten year old son and hopefully thirty more years at least to put under my feet. There is more life to be lived, and while I really didn't want to walk that road without my husband, perhaps Fate has seen to it, I must be stronger than I want to be.
Patrick. My boy Patrick.
He is stubborn, pigheaded, extremely smart, logical, absolutely loving and loyal. He has decided that since papa is no longer here, he needs to pick up on the masculine role of telling me what to do. He's still my baby, but I fear he may grow into a tyrant if I don't watch closely. He'll be a benefit to a wife someday with his single minded devotion, but heaven forbid someone disagree with him. I can't wait to see the man he'll become, but I worry for his heart and mind. One cannot remain content and happy with such a rigid nature.
It is very odd to know that my small child will have children of his own someday. To know that my son has sons, and then eventually yet another generation. Our tree has some kind of power that way. It's a beautiful knowledge, and I hope I never take it for granted. I do hope your father has told you about some of what my early years were like.
They weren't fun years. But they were meaningful, and filled a void in my heart for a time. I was able to help those young women from a shortened life and years of misery and pain. I think perhaps I need to find an occupation that will fill that void again. It was once full of love for Lawrence, but now that he is gone... Perhaps I need to travel again, come out from hiding and join myself to a good cause.
The Lake house hasn't held the same sanctuary it once did for me. Without Lawrence there the desire is gone for its tranquility. However I know that the love that built the place will find you again, and that warms my heart, and has made me realize how important that house will be. I shall always provide for it, dear girl. And while it is yet in my power I will make sure you will never lack that beauty in your life.
All my love,
Mabel
One of the most amazing gifts Mabel's journal gave me was a photo tucked in the front cover. There was my great-grandmother posing on a bench along the stone path Lawrence and the crew had laid in the garden. Long dark hair curled around her head in a thick braid pinned as a crown. A sweet smile on her face, round cheeks and long neck. Her eyes were light and her womanly shape implied health and happiness. She was looking off to the side, past the photographer...a look of love that could never be imitated. She was beautiful. And she looked like everything I wanted to feel. I showed Peter the picture, and he peered at it closely, furrowing his brows and pursing his lips. He looked at me, and then back at her several times. Then he gave it back to me, looked in my eyes and told me that we looked quite similar, but that I was prettier than she was. I didn't know what to make of that. So I ignored his comment, but I haven't forgotten it.
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I have always been self-conscious of my person and never extended myself unless I had to. I have few defining traits, average is a good descriptor. Neither of my parents had made a point to comment on my appearance one way or the other. So with only modern media to compare myself to, of course my self-image was poor. Every girl relies on others to determine their beauty or self-worth. Our own opinions aren't reliable.
Mabel's words stuck in my throat. I couldn't put them down. The journal was a lifeline of love when I needed it so desperately. Her confidence gave me the courage to write to my dad. I wasn't ready for a phone call yet. I wasn't sure I could say the words I needed to say to him. School had started a month ago and my friend circle was growing. Not only were the girls on my floor friendly, but a new friendship with Peter had expanded my social network to include others that I would never have approached. Kev and his girlfriend were just a few of the new people I'd met. It was a new experience and gave me the courage to step into the void of personal communication that I would normally ignore.
Whenever my heart was full, my mouth seemed mute and I couldn't talk. But my pen was never stifled, so I gathered paper and pen and sat at my desk to write a letter.
September 24, 1995
Dear Dad,
Thank you for writing to me, and sending me Great-Grandma Mabel's journal. Her writing means the world to me. I've wanted to talk to you for so long, I have so many things I want to say, I don't know how I'll get them all out.
I appreciate you reaching out, even if it was five years later than I would have liked. You gave me your history, so I feel it only fair that I give you mine.
After you left, Richard and Marcie ignored me almost entirely and have continued that course 'til now. It feels like I am the only reminder left over from my mother's previous life with you, and if they could ignore me perhaps that history never happened. Their coldness has never stopped hurting.
Mama sent me to school here at Chesterwood when I was going into eighth grade. I think she didn't want me around anymore. I was an irritating hindrance in her new life...and honestly I'm grateful. I never wanted to be a burden to either of you and at least across the country, I'm not in the way. To my regret, I don't call her mama anymore. She ceased being my mother a long time ago. She is Marcie, and I will call her by her name.
Dad, I've missed you so much. You were the one who took care of me when I was sick. You were the one who let me go with you everywhere. You took me fishing, and let me drive the boat. You taught me to work hard and be proud of a job well done...and when you left, you took my heart with you. Even if you didn't know it. I've cried my eyes out over you for years now.
My life was always reflected in yours, and when you wanted to die, you took me with you. I have been in so much pain wondering if you ever loved me. If you never wanted me around. I heard you once say, you wished I'd never been born. Sometimes I wished that as well. I have hated you with passion, loved you with all I had and wanted so much to be the one to help you find yourself again.
Did you know I found Grandma Mabel's tree? You were so drunk those summers, I don't know if you ever realized where I was. But I found it and that tree has magic in it somehow. It saved me in more ways than I can count over the years. I hope someday I can introduce you to our Finding Tree in a way that you'll truly understand.
I am so happy to hear you have Hannah. I do want to meet her one day and thank her for loving you when you couldn't.
Honestly, I'm scared to let you back in my life. In a month I'll be eighteen, so I know that Marcie will have no say as to whether I can see you or not. But I don't honestly know if I can survive another abandonment. Please only respond if you are serious about wanting to be in contact again, I'll need you to stay this time.
